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A  NEW  VARIORUM  EDITION 


OP 


Shakespeare 


EDITED  BY 

HORACE  HOWARD  FURNESS 


The  Tragedie  of 


Anthonie,  and  Cleopatra 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.  B.  UPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

LONDON :  s  HENRIETTA  STREET,  COVENT  GARDEN 

1907 


498x79 


Copyright,  1907,  by  H.  H.  Furnbss 


.J' 


ELICmOTYWD  IV  UPnN0OTT*«  MEM 

WCSTOOTT  A  THOMMN,  PHILAOA.  PHILAOA. 


IN    MEMORIAM 


PREFACE 


It  must  be  a  source  of  gratification  to  all  lovers  of  Shakespeare 
that  the  discussion  in  regard  to  the  superiority  of  this  or  that  Text  is 
gradually  declining,  and  that  what,  in  the  time  of  our  forebears,  was  a 
furious  ebullition,  is  now  subsiding  into  a  gentle  simmer,  whereof  the 
murmur  is  soothing  rather  than  exciting.  It  must  be  acknowledged, 
however,  that  the  flames  burned  about  certain  plays  more  fiercely  than 
about  others.  And  it  was  those  'stolne  and  surreptitious  copies,'  the 
Quartos,  that  supplied  the  fuel.  Undoubtedly,  the  Quartos  have  at 
times  yielded  valuable  assistance, — notably  in  Hamlet  and  in  Richard 
the  Third, — more  emphatically,  however,  in  supplying  deficiencies  than 
in  elucidating  the  Text.  As  to  the  Text,  it  is  doubtflil  that  any  very  pro- 
nounced superiority  can  be  observed  in  those  plays  whereof  we  have 
Quartos  over  those  whereof  we  have  none.  There  have  been  times,  I 
confess,  in  this  present  play,  when  I  have  been  tempted  to  sigh  for  a 
Quarto ;  but  the  sigh  has  been  stifled  by  the  reflection  that,  in  all 
probability,  instead  of  one  point  of  discussion,  we  should  then  have  sev- 
eral points,  and  that  there  would  always  be  disputants  ready  to  cast  up 
to  the  Quarto  the  stigma  of  its  birth  and  refuse  to  accept  its  testimony. 
Wherefore,  in  scanning  the  whole  horizon,  I  have  concluded  that  man- 
kind is,  in  general,  happier  under  the  grey  authority  of  the  Folio, 
and  of  the  Folio  alone,  which  is  nearer  to  Shakespeare  than  a  stolen 
Quarto,  and  that 

'  Calm  pleasures  there  abide,  majestic  pains. ' 

In  this  present  play  of  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  it  is  the  Folio  that, 
I  must  say  happily,  furnishes  our  sole  Text.  There  is,  to  be  sure,  an 
entry  in  the  Stationers^  Registers  which  warrants  the  supposition  that  a 
Quarto,  if  it  did  not  actually  appear,  was  at  least  in  contemplation. 
There  are  two  entries  on  the  20th  of  May,  1608,  and  they  are  as 
follows :  * 

*  Statumer^  Registers^  Arb€r*s  Reprint,  vol.  iii,  p.  378. 


vi  PREFACE 

*  Edward   Blpunt     Entred  for   his  copie  vnder  the  andes  of  Sir 

George  Buck  knight  and  Master  Warden  Seton 
A  booke  called.  The  booke  of  Pericles  prynce 
of  Tyre         yj<* 

Edward   Blunt       Entred  also  for  his  copie  by  the  lyke  Aucthoritie. 

A  booke  Called  Anthony,  and  Cleopatra  .  .     yj^* 

Shakespeare's  name  is  not  mentioned ;  these  entries  are  supposed, 
however,  to  refer  to  \^%  Plays.  In  neither  case  was  the  'booke/  so 
far  as  we  know,  in  print.  Edward  Blount  did  not  publish  Pericles 
by  itself  in  that  year,  nor  in  any  year;  it  was  printed  by  Henry 
Gosson  in  1609.  And  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  was  not  printed  sepa- 
rately, so  &r  as  we  know,  by  anybody  in  any  year.  There  still  remains 
the  possibility  that  it  was  printed ;  and  it  may  even  yet  be  discovered, 
imder  dust  and  grime,  to  become  the  prize  of  unscholarly  wealth. 

For  the  present  play  the  sole  Text  that  is  come  down  to  us  is, 
therefore,  that  of  the  Folio  of  1623,  which,  in  the  following  pages,  is 
reproduced  with  all  the  fidelity  which  unwearied  pains  can  bestow. 

It  is  not  generally  realised,  I  think,  to  what  an  extent  this  First  Folio 
survives  in  all  our  texts,  and  how  little,  how  very  little,  it  varies,  save 
in  spelling  and  in  stage-directions,  from  the  most  popular  texts  of  the 
present  day.  We  have  heard  so  much  of  the  '  corruption  of  the  old 
*  texts,'  of  the  labour  expended,  and  of  the  eminent  critical  ability 
demanded,  to  render  them  intelligible,  that  these  original  texts  are 
come  to  be  regarded  as  sealed  books  to  all  but  the  most  learned  eyes ; 
and  should  they  be  divested  of  the  emendations  of  the  critics,  it  would 
be  labour  lost  to  attempt  to  understand  them.  It  may  be,  perhap>s,  worth 
the  while  to  examine  how  far  editors  and  critics  have  amended  Shake- 
speare's language  so  as  to  fit  it  for  our  comprehension.  The  present 
is  the  longest  of  Shakespeare's  Plays, — it  lacks  but  thirty-six  lines 
of  four  thousand.*  Taking  as  a  guide  the  Cambridge  Shakespeare ^ 
edited  by  Dr  W.  Aldis  Wright,  which  is  accepted  the  world  over  as 
the  standard  modernised  Text,  and  examining  its  Footnotes^  we  shall  find 
that,  after  omitting  stage-directions,  metrical  divisions  of  lines,  mere 
pimctuation,  and  immoment  changes  of  spelling,  the  original  text  of 
this  play  in  the  Four  Folios  has  been  set  aside  and  emendations  by 
editors  or  critics  adopted  in  sixty  instances.f  I  am  aware  that  there 
is  not  in  this  calculation  the  nice  accuracy  of  an  astronomical  problem, 
in  that  the  omission  of  punctuation,  which  at  times  makes  the  difference 
between  sense  and  nonsense,  may  be  censured  as  ill-advised ;  yet,  mak- 

*  The  ntunber  is  given  as  3964  on  p.  354,  Skakipere  Society's  Transactions  for 
1874.  t  This  list  is  giren  in  the  Appendix^  p.  598. 


PREFACE  vii 

ing  all  allowances,  nay,  doubling  sixty  and  calling  it  a  hundred  and 
twenty,  there  still  remain  three  thousand  eight  hundred  and  odd  lines  of 
this  play  which  come  to  us  exactly  as  Shakespeare's  printers  have  trans- 
mitted them,  excepting  a  difference  in  spelling  which  would  not  trouble 
a  school-boy  withal.  Furthermore,  there  is  to  be  learned  from  this 
a  second  lesson,  to  be  deeply  conned  by  all  who  would  airily  undertake 
now-a-da)rs  to  *  amend  Shakespeare.'  With  the  exception  of  a  con- 
version by  Dyce  of  a  '  how ! '  into  a  ho  / ;  of  a  change  by  Steevens  of 

*  was '  into  wast;  of  a  change  by  Malone  of  a  long  f  into  an  f, — with 
the  exception  of  these  few  alterations,  I  repeat,  there  has  not  been 
admitted  into  this  standard  Text  of  the  Cambridge  Edition  a  single 
emendation  of  a  date  later  than  Dr  Johnson's  edition  in  1765.  Be  it 
noted,  in  passing,  that  of  these  sixty  emendations  that  have  taken  their 
place  in  the  Text,  Theobald  contributed  sixteen, — nearly  twice  as 
many  as  those  contributed  by  Rowe,  who  stands  next  in  rank,  with 
nine. 

From  what  has  just  been  said,  it  is,  I  think,  manifest  that  the  Text 
of  the  First  Folio,  with  its  three  successors,  is,  in  the  present  play,  even 
better  than  we  should  expect,  in  view  of  the  times  and  circumstances  in 
which  it  was  printed.  Nay,  it  may  be  deemed  especially  good  when 
we  consider  the  terse,  condensed  style  into  which  Shakespeare's 
thoughts  seem  to  solidify  at  impassioned  moments.  Of  course,  there 
are  here  and  there  inexplicable  words  and  phrases,  mistakes  of  the  eye 
and  ear  on  the  part  of  the  compositors ;  but  then,  is  there  a  play  of 
Shakespeare  where  these  are  not?  They  are  to  be  expected  when 
an  author  has  never  seen  the  proof-sheets.  We  should  be  grateful  that 
there  are  not  more.  And  inasmuch  as  these  textual  puzzles  are,  gener- 
ally, single  words,  such  as  *  Arme-gaunt,*  *  'ribaudred,'  f  etc.,  which 
hardly  affect  the  sense,  and  would  pass  unheeded  were  they  heard  from 
the  stage,  we  need  not  be  greatly  cast  down  when  they  occur.  In  sooth, 
I  think  that  they  supply  a  certain  charm ;  they  give  the  imagination 
play.  What  an  imposing  grandeur  is  imparted  to  Anthony's  deport- 
ment when  we  learn  that  '  he  soberly  did  mount  an  arme-gaunt  steede ' ! 
What  image  of  panoplied  gauntness  is  there  here  lacking  ?  And  that 
Anthony  could  '  soberly '  mount  this  hippogriff  betokens  a  serenity  of 
mind  that  of  itself  ranks  him  with  the  gods.    Ah,  no ;  give  me  Caliban's 

*  scammels,'  and  Anthony's  *  arme-gaunt  steede. '  If  arm-gaunt  be  not 
the  true  word,  I  think  Shakespeare's  Shade  must  be  grateful  to  the 
printers  for  having  supplied  its  place  with  one  so  suggestive. 

In  connection  with  the  subject  of  the  Text,  I  trust  that  I  may  be 
pardoned  for  here  mentioning  a  matter  that  is,  in  the  main,  personal. 

*  Act  I,  sc  V,  line  56.  f  ^^^  111»  ^'  *>  ^i***  '7« 


viii  PREFACE 

In  the  Preface  to  Lovers  Labour* s  Lost  I  set  forth  at  some  length 
the  reasons  for  my  belief  that  the  compositors  followed  the  voice  of  a 
reader,  and  closed  my  remarks  with  the  assertion  that  '  if  this  surmise 
'  of  mine  be  a  fact,  it  is  &tal  to  emendations  founded  on  the  ductus 
'  litterarum, '  For  this  assertion  I  was  gently  taken  to  task  by  a  critic,* 
who  remarked  that  I  seemed  *  to  forget  that  the  compositor's  reader, 

*  if  not  the  compositor  himself,  must  still  have  used  his  eyes,  and  so 
'  must  have  been  liable  to  the  same  kind  of  mistake  as  was  made  at 
'  times  by  the  compositor  when  he  set  directly  from  written  copy.'  I 
now  wish  to  state  that,  in  this  particular  regard,  of  the  ductus  litterarum^ 
my  critic  is  entirely  right,  and  that  I  was  entirely  wrong.  Be  it  under- 
stood that  my  faith  remains  unshaken  in  the  belief  that  certain  misprints 
are  due  to  the  misapprehension  by  the  compositor  of  the  words  uttered 
by  his  reader.  That  there  are  many  of  these  misprints  has  long  been 
recognized;  Malone  attributed  them  to  transcribers,  Steevens  sur- 
mised that  they  were  possibly  due  to  transcriptions  of  the  plays  taken 
down  by  shorthand  during  a  performance.  All  that  I  contend  for 
is  that  they  are  due  to  the  practice  of  reading  the  copy  aloud  to  the 
compositor, — a  practice  which  we  now  know  obtained  in  early  print- 
ing offices.  The  following  is  a  List  of  some  of  these  errors  of  the  ear 
in  the  present  play.     The  Text  of  the  First  Folio  reads : 

*  To  such  whose  places  vnder  vs.*  for  *  To  such  whose ^/ace  is  imder  us.' 

I,  ii,  219. 

*  Whose  with  him.*  "   *Who  *s  with  him.'  I,  iii,  5. 

*  vouchsafe  to  think. '  "   ^  vouchsafed  to  think,*     I,  iv,  10. 

*  The  neere  Lust-wearied. '  "  *  The  ne* er  lust- wearied. '  II,  i,  48. 

*  shall  well  greet  together. '  "  *  shall  well^^^  together. '  II,  i,  50. 

*  your  proofe  were  well  deserued.  *  *«   '  your  reproqfwere  well  deserved. ' 

II,  ii,  141. 

*  The  other  wayes  a  Mars.*  "  'The  other  way  he*s  a  Mars.' 

II,  V,  148. 

*  your  so  branchlesse. '  "  ^ yours  so  branchlesse. '  III,  iv,  2 7. 
'You  reconciler.'                              "  ' K7»r  reconciler. *        III,  iv,  34. 

*  His  Sonnes  hither  proclaimed. '     "  *  His  sonnes  he  there  proclaimed. ' 

III,  vi,  14. 
'Thantomad:                                   "  *  The  Antoniad:              III,  x,  6. 

*  thou  should'st  stowe  me  after. '      "  'thou  should*  st  tow  me  after.' 

Ill,  xi,  64. 
'Mine  Nightingale.'  "  ^ My  Nightingale.'     IV,  viii,  24. 

'  A  toward  Cittadell. '  "  '  A  towered  CittadeU. '  IV,  xiv,  6. 

*  The  Atlantic  Monthly^  February,  1905,  p.  283. 


PREFA  CE  IX 

*  Vnarme  Eros.'  for  ^ Unarm  me  Eros.'      IV,  xiv,  45. 

*  No  more  but  in  a  Woman.'  "   'No  more  hut  e^en  a  Woman.' 

IV,  XV,  93. 

*  I  am  sure  mine  Nailes.'  "   '  I  am  sure  my  Nailes.*  V,  ii,  268. 

We  are  at  times  inclined  to  criticise  our  German  brothers  for  trans- 
lating the  names,  occasionally  historic,  which  Shakespeare  has  given 
to  his  characters.  Thus,  in  German  translations,  '  Hotspur '  becomes 
Heissspom^  *  Mistress  Quickly '  appears  as  Frau  Hurtig^  and  *  Juliet ' 
is  styled  Julia^  and  so  forth.  But  it  appears  that  this  criticism  should 
cease,  or  at  least  be  measurably  abated.  For  do  not  we,  ourselves,  here 
in  Anthony  and  Cleopatra,  fall  imder  the  same  condemnation?  In 
the  Twelfth  Scene  of  the  Third  Act  Caesar  addresses  by  name  one  of 
his  followers,  'Thidias,'  and  bids  him  go  to  Cleopatra  and  try  by 
bribery  to  win  her  from  Anthony.  In  the  next  Scene  the  stage- direc- 
tion reads  ^  Enter  Thidias.'  He  has  his  interview,  and,  during  it, 
Cleopatra  asks  him  his  name.  'My  name,'  he  replies,  'is  Thidias.' 
Anthony  enters,  and  in  his  ungovernable  fury  at  the  sight  of  Caesar's 
ambassador  kissing  Cleopatra's  hand,  orders  a  servant  to  tug  him  away 
to  be  whipt,  and  the  stage-direction  follows,  ^Exeunt  with  Thidius.' 
When,  after  the  whipping,  the  servant  brings  back  the  ambassador,  the 
stage-direction  reads,  *  Enter  a  Servant  with  Thidias ' ;  and  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  interview  we  have  ^  Exit  Thid.'  It  is  hardly  possi- 
ble to  have  a  name  more  clearly  indicated ;  there  is  no  misspelling, 
but  the  name  is  consistently,  and  clearly,  and  uniformly  spelt  *  Thidias,' 
with  one  trifling  variation,  Thidius,  And  yet  Theobald  as  consist- 
ently, as  clearly,  and  as  uniformly  changed  it  to  Thyreusf  and  has 
been  herein  followed  by  every  editor  since  his  day.  Shakespeare  in 
his  nomenclature  was,  as  in  all  things  else,  exquisite ;  the  smoothness 
or  the  befitting  harshness  of  his  names  is  a  quality  which  differentiates 
him  from  other  dramatists  of  his  time.  For  certain  reasons  (did  he 
ever  do  anything  without  reason?)  he  chose  the  name  'Thidias.' 
For  a  certain  reason  Theobald,  and  every  modem  editor  acquiescing, 
changes  'Thidias'  to  Thyreus.  Theobald's  reason,  forsooth,  was 
that  he  found  in  North's  translation  of  Plutarch  the  name  of  Caesar's 
ambassador  to  be  Thyreus,  and,  therefore,  concluding  that  Shake- 
speare had  blundered,  incontinendy  converted  Shakespeare's  own 
chosen  name  '  Thidias '  into  Thyreus, 

A  similar  treatment  has  been  dealt  to  '  Camidius,'  whose  name  has 
been  changed  to  Canidius.  Here,  however,  the  liberty  is  not  so  fla- 
giant.  The  spelling  in  the  Folio  is  not  quite  as  uniform  as  it  is  in  the 
case  of  '  Thidias ' ;  it  is  in  one  instance  spelt  '  Camidias '  ^  and  in 

*  Act  III,  sc.  Tu,  line  24. 


X  PREFACE 

another  *  Camindios.'  *  *  Camidius '  might  possibly  have  been  Camd- 
ius  misread  or  misheard.  But  no  such  excuse  can  be  urged  for  Thyreus. 
A  moral  to  be  drawn  from  such  liberties  with  the  Text  is  that 
possibly  we  may  scrutinize  too  closely  the  sources  whence  Shake- 
speare drew  his  plots,  especially  in  the  Historical  Flays,  We  learn 
too  much,  and  bring  our  knowledge  to  the  interpretation  of  the 
plays.  It  is  possible  that,  thus  biased,  our  judgement  becomes  warped, 
and  we  read  into  a  character  somewhat  that  Shakespeare  may  not, 
possibly,  have  intended.  It  seems  to  me  that  we  should  accept 
these  plajTS  with  our  mind  the  proverbial  tabula  rasa^  whence  every 
previous  record  has  been  wiped  away,  and  all  the  light  we  have  comes, 
untinted,  direct  from  Shakespeare.  In  the  present  play  I  think  two 
characters,  at  least,  have  suffered  from  this  extrinsic  knowledge  on  our 
part :  Caesar  is  one  and  Cleopatra, — ^yes,  even  Cleopatra, — is  another. 
All  that  Caesar  says  or  does  we  regard  as  said  or  done  by  the  Caesar  whom 
we  have  known  aforetime.  We  shut  our  eyes  to  noble  traits  which 
Shakespeare  offers  us,  and  open  them  only  on  the  crafty  image  of  our 
school-days.  Throughout  the  play,  I  believe  Shakespeare  intends 
us  to  accept  Caesar's  love  for  Anthony  as  perfectly  sincere  and  very 
deep-seated.  Witness  the  Scene  where  Caesar  learns  of  Anthony's 
personal  challenge  and  of  his  brutal  conduct  in  having  Caesar's  own 
ambassador  most  disgracefully  whipt.  With  justifiable  heat  Caesar 
breaks  out,  and  calls  Anthony  '  that  old  RufEan ' ;  but  as  he  leaves, 
after  giving  instructions  for  the  disposition  of  his  army,  a  flood  of  mem- 
ories of  old  days  comes  over  him,  recalling  the  echoes  of  Anthony's  sole 
voice  which  drove  Julius  Caesar's  murderers  in  a  mad  gallop  from  Rome, 
and  when  Anthony  had  been  to  him  as  a  protecting  elder  brother, — 
and  with  ineffable  pity  he  sighs  forth  '  Poor  Anthony ! '  That  man  is 
not  to  be  envied  who  can  read  this  without  emotion.  From  no  cold, 
calculating  heart  did  that  bitter  sigh  break  forth.  Even  Caesar's  affec- 
tion for  his  '  dearest  sister,'  as  he  names  her,  has  been  questioned ;  and 
the  very  fervour  of  his  expressions  of  love,  as  she  stands  pitifully  before 
him  after  she  has  been  deserted  by  Anthony,  has  been  cast  up  to  him 
as  a  proof  of  his  insincerity.  When,  as  Anthony's  bride,  Octavia  bade 
farewell  to  her  brother,  all  the  number  of  the  stars  had  been  invoked 
to  give  light  to  her  &ir  way.  She  returns  a  solitary,  unattended, 
deserted  wife.  If  ever  there  were  a  time  when  a  brother  should  lavish 
on  a  sister  all  the  treasure  of  his  fondest  love,  surely  it  was  then. 
What  end  could  be  gained  in  such  an  hour  by  *  insincerity  *  ?  Would 
not  Octavia  have  detected  an  insincere  ring  in  her  brother's  words 
instantly  ? 

♦  Act  IV,  sc.  vi,  line  2a 


PRE  FA  CE  xi 

On  Cassar's  first  appearance,  when  Shakespeare  so  frequently  gives 
us  the  key  to  a  character,  he  rehearses  with  bitterness  all  Anthony's 
misdoings  in  Egypt,  and  yet  before  the  Scene  closes,  as  though  to  show 
how  genuinely  he  loved  Anthony,  and  how  true  he  was  to  his  own  fine 
nature,  he  recalls  with  fervour  what  a  grand,  noble  soldier  Anthony 
was,  what  bitter  hardships  he  had  borne  upon  the  march,  and  while 
sharing  the  lowest  lot  of  the  commonest  of  the  host,  had  even  drank 
the  gilded  puddle  that  beasts  would  cough  at.  And  with  what  anguish 
wrung  from  his  heart  of  heart  does  Caesar  hear  of  Anthony's  death ! 
His  first  words  are  almost  of  self-reproach,  as  if  he  himself  had  partly 
been  the  cause,  *  Oh,  Anthony,  I  have  followed  thee  to  this ! '  and  then, 
with  *  tears  as  sovereign  as  the  blood  of  hearts,'  he  calls  him 

*  my  Brother,  my  Competitor 
'  In  top  of  all  design,  my  mate  in  empire, 

*  Friend  and  Companion  in  the  front  of  War, 

*  The  Arm  of  mine  own  Body,  and  the  Heart 
'  Where  mine  his  thoughts  did  kindle.' 

And  yet  we  are  told  that  this  man  was  cold,  crafty,  and  self-seeking, 
and  that  these  words  were  uttered  for  effect !  Much  learning  has  made 
us  mad  ! 

Moreover,  does  it  not  injure  the  tragedy  as  a  work  of  art  that  the 
Power,  representing  Justice,  which  is  to  crush  Anthony  should  be  of  a 
character  no  more  elevated  than  Anthony's  own  ?  Anthony  deserved 
to  be  crushed ;  he  was  false  to  what  he  knew  to  be  right.  But  should 
not  the  Power  that  punishes  him  be  more  exalted  than  he  ?  *  He  who 
*the  sword  of  Heaven  would  bear  Should  be  as  holy  as  severe.' 
A  man  who  is  pure  craft  and  selfishness  ought  not  to  be  entrusted 
with  the  sword  of  Heaven. 

Even  with  more  reason  than  in  Caesar's  character,  is  it  necessary 
that  we  should  accept  Cleopatra,  at  Shakespeare's  hands,  with  minds 
unbiased  by  history.  We  should  know  no  more  of  her  than  what  we  hear 
on  the  stage.  Of  her  past,  of  her  salad  days,  we  should  know  nothing 
but  what  we  are  told.  The  first  words  that  she  and  Anthony  utter  tell 
of  boundless,  illimitable  love,  and  this  love  is  maintained  to  the  last 
throb  of  life  in  each  of  them.  Although  Cleopatra  then  says  that  she'll 
set  a  bourne  how  far  to  be  beloved,  and  Anthony  replies  that  then  she 
must  needs  find  out  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,  yet  it  is  not  Anthony, 
but  Cleopatra,  who  sets  no  bourne  to  it.  Twice  Anthony  touches  this 
bourne,  and  twice  Cleopatra  surmounts  and  spurns  it.  Never  does 
Cleopatra  waver  in  her  wild  and  passionate  love  for  Anthony.  Even 
in  the  Scene  with  Caesar's  ambassador,  Thidias,  who  comes  to  Cleo- 
patra with  overtures  of  peace  and  favour  on  condition  that  she  will  give 


xii  PREFA  CE 

up  Anthony,  we  knowing  ones,  crammed  with  history  as  pigeons  are  with 
peas,  tip  each  other  the  wink  and  lay  our  fingers  on  our  shrewd  noses  at 
Cleopatra's  evident  treachery  when  she  sends  word  that  she  kisses 
Csesar's  conquering  hand,  and  kneels,  with  her  crown,  at  his  feet.  But 
those  who  read  the  Queen  only  by  the  light  thrown  by  Shakespeare, 
see  clearly  enough  that  at  this  lowest  ebb  of  Anthony's  fortunes  this  was 
the  only  course  she  could  prudently  take ;  to  gain  time  for  him  she  must 
temporise  with  Caesar.  And  when  Anthony  surprises  Thidias  kissing 
her  hand  and  rages  '  like  a  thousand  hurricanes,'  she  patiently  waits 
imtil  the  tumult  of  the  earth  and  skies  abates,  and  then  calmly  asks, 

*  Not  know  me  yet  ? '  Are  we  blind  that  we  do  not  see  that  Shake- 
speare here  means  to  show  that  Cleopatra  has  been  throughout  as  true 
as  steel  to  Anthony,  '  her  mailed  Captain,'  and  that  her  protest  that,  if 
she  be  cold-hearted  toward  him,  let  heaven  *  the  next  Caesarion  smite,' 
is  as  sincere  as  it  is  tender  and  pathetic.  From  this  deep,  enduring, 
passionate  love  she  never  swerves,  and  in  the  very  last  moments  of  life 
she  calls  to  Anthony,  *  Husband^  I  come,'  thus  sanctifying  her  love  by 
the  holiest  of  bonds.  In  accepting  her  right  to  claim  this  relationship 
our  hearts  bow  down  before  Shakespeare,  not  Plutarch.  In  this 
expression  I  find  the  lofliest  note  in  the  tragedy.  Amid  the  *  infinite 
variety '  which  was  hers,  the  love  for  Anthony  burned  with  the  unflick- 
ering  flame  of  wifely  devotion. 

It  is  not  until  nigh  the  close  that  we  are  shown,  in  the  *  dream ' 
which  Cleopatra  told  to  Dolabella,  the  qualities  of  the  god-like  Anthony 
which  had  won  and  kept  the  Eg)rptian  Queen's  heart.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  fascination  wherewith  Cleopatra  enslaved  Anthony  is 
revealed  to  us  early  in  the  play,  and  is  the  key-note  of  her  character. 
Enobarbus  (who  herein  fulfills  the  office  of  a  Greek  Chorus,  like  the 
Fool  in  Lear,  and,  to  a  lesser  degree,  Feste  in  Twelfth  Night)  says  of 
Cleopatra,  in  words  that  are  become  imbedded  in  the  language, 

*  Age  cannot  wither  her,  nor  custom  stale 
*Her  infinite  variety.' 

It  is  the  irresistible  potency  of  this  infinite  variety  which,  in  the  very 
first  Scene,  Anthony  avows,  when  he  exclaims, 

*  Fie  wrangling  queen ; 

*  Whom  everything  becomes,  to  chide,  to  laugh, 

*  To  weep ;  whose  every  passion  fully  strives 
*To  make  itself,  in  thee,  fair  and  admired.' 

When  Mrs  Jameson  remarks  that  Anthony's  love  for  Cleopatra  is 
that  *  of  a  man  declined  in  years  for  a  woman  very  much  younger  than 

*  himself,'  was  it  necessary  to  restrict  the  in&tuation  to  declining  years  ? 
Does  manhood,  however  long  its  span,  hold  a  single  year  when  subjec- 


PREFACE  xiii 

tion  to  the  highest  earthly  ideal  is  not  most  welcome,  and  when  the 
privilege  would  not  be  eagerly  claimed,  of  echoing  Anthony's 

'  O'er  my  spirit 
'  The  full  supremacy  thou  knew'st ;  and  that 
'  Thy  beck  might  from  the  bidding  of  the  gods 
'  Command  me '  ? 

One  Scene  there  is,  however,  which  must,  I  think,  severely  grate  every 
reader.  It  is  the  Scene, — the  last  of  all, — where  Cleopatra  ^Is  into  a 
towering  rage  with  her  Treasurer,  Seleucus,  for  his  honesty  in  refusing 
to  countenance  the  dishonesty  of  her  brief  of  all  she  is  possessed 
of,  in  money,  plate,  and  jewels.  That  she  should  descend  to  low, 
unqueenly  dishonesty  is  sordid  enough,  but  that  she  should  attempt, 
while  showering  opprobrious  epithets  on  her  Treasiurer,  to  scratch  out 
his  very  eyes  with  her  nails  is  a  lower  depth  to  which  no  admiration, 
however  ardent,  can  follow  her.  Of  course,  ingenuity  has  been  taxed 
to  find  excuses  for  her.  We  accept  her  own  feeble  attempts  at  apology, 
and  sadly  acknowledge,  the  while,  that  it  is  the  last  flickering  of  her 
tempestuous,  ungovemed  temper  which  once  more  flames  up,  through 
the  'ashes  of  her  chance,'  before  it  dies  down  for  ever, — and  the  excuse 
is  inadequate  enough. 

It  was  reserved  to  Adolf  Stahr,  the  learned  German  historian  of 
Cleopatra,  so  to  interpret  this  Scene  as  to  convert  our  humiliation  into 
approval.  Be  it  remembered  that  Cleopatra's  last  words,  as  Anthony's 
dead  body  is  borne  away,  are 

*  Ah,  women,  women  !  Come  we  have  no  friend 
'  But  resolution,  and  the  briefest  end !  * 

And  from  this  resolution  to  compass  the  briefest  end,  she  never  for  one 
minute  departs.  Before  she  could  even  begin  her  plans  she  was  taken 
prisoner,  and  her  scheme  for  procuring  an  asp  demanded  the  closest 
secrecy.  What  she  had  most  to  fear  was  that  Caesar  should  get  some 
inkling  of  her  design.  It  was,  therefore,  of  the  very  highest  importance 
that  Caesar's  mind  should  be  utterly  disabused  of  any  suspicion  of 
her  suicidal  intent,  and  that,  instead  thereof,  he  should  be  firmly  con- 
vinced, not  only  that  she  intended  to  live,  but  that  she  was  becom- 
ing reconciled  to  the  thought  of  going  to  Rome.  To  give  Caesar  a  list 
of  her  possessions  was  obligatory ;  but  what  proof  that  she  intended 
to  live  could  Caesar  have  greater  than  the  withholding,  from  her  list, 
treasure  sufficient  to  maintain  her  hereafler  in  regal  state  ?  This  whole 
Scene,  then,  with  Seleucus  was  pre-arranged  in  order  to  deceive  Caesar. 
The  rage,  the  fury,  the  virago  were  all  assumed.  One  exquisite  touch 
there  is  which  must  have  extinguished,  in  Caesar's  mind,  the  last  spark 


xiv  PREFACE 

of  suspicion  that  she  intended  to  destroy  herself.  In  pleading  her 
excuse  for  thus  retaining  some  of  her  treasiure,  she  slights  to  the  utter- 
most its  value,  calling  it  '  immoment  toys,*  *  lady  trifles,*  etc.,  and  then 
with  infinite  cunning  she  refers  to  *  some  nobler  token '  which  she  had 
kept  apart  '  for  Livia  and  Octavia '  as  a  friendly  greeting, — in  Rome, 
of  course.  In  this  last  of  all  her  encoimters  Cleopatra  triumphed,  and 
Caesar  was  the  ass  unpolicied. 

Of  course,  as  is  known  to  every  one  who  has  studied  the  play, 
Shakespeare  derived  this  Scene  with  Seleucus  from  North's  translation 
of  Plutarch,  and  has  here  and  there  used  North's  very  words  and 
phrases,  even  to  the  gifls  which  Cleopatra  intended  to  give  Octavia  and 
Livia,  and,  moreover,  Plutarch  says  that  Caesar  was  '  glad  to  hear  her 
^  say  so,  persuading  himself  thereby  that  she  yet  had  a  desire  to  save 
*her  life.*  All  that  is  claimed  for  Stahr's  interpretation  is  the  sug- 
gestion that  the  display  of  honesty  by  Seleucus,  and  Cleopatra's  violent 
behavioiu:,  had  been  pre-arranged  between  the  two  for  effect.  If 
Caesar  was  deceived  by  it,  the  guile  becomes  finer  by  its  having  deceived 
even  Plutarch.      » 

Coleridge  says  that  this  play  should  be  perused  in  mental  contrast 
with  Romeo  andjuliety — as  the  love  of  passion  and  appetite  opposed  to 
the  love  of  affection  and  instinct.  It  is  with  unfeigned  regret  that  I  dis- 
sent from  our  finest  Shakespeare  critic, — not  on  the  score  of  the  contrast 
between  these  two  tragedies,  but  that  this  play  is  one  involving  the 
love  of  passion  and  appetite.  Where  in  the  play  is  there  any  proof 
of  it  ?  Where  is  there  any  scene  of  passion  ?  Where  is  there  a  word 
which,  had  it  been  addressed  by  a  husband  to  a  wife,  we  should  not 
approve?  And  because  they  were  not  married  is  that  love  to  be 
changed  at  once  into  sensuality  ?  Has  there  not  been,  in  our  own  day, 
a  well-known  union,  unblessed  by  the  Church,  which  was  founded  solely 
on  the  intellect?  Is  wandering  through  the  streets  and  noting  the 
quality  of  the  people  sensual?  Is  fishing  sensual?  Is  teasing  past 
endurance  sensual  ?  Such  are  the  glimpses  that  we  get  into  the  com- 
mon life  of  this  'sensual'  pair.  If  these  pastimes  be  sensual,  then 
are  tennis  and  cricket  sensual.  All  the  extravagant  terms  of  love, 
such  as  the  demi -Atlas  of  the  world,  the  paragon  of  men,  the  great 
Fairy,  and  so  forth,  cannot  turn  love  into  passion  and  appetite.  When 
Cleopatra  asks  for  'music,  moody  food  of  us  that  trade  in  love,'  *  she 
has  no  thought  of  trafficking,  mercenary  love ;  such  love  demands  no 
music  to  sustain  it.  She  and  Orsino,  in  Twelfth  Nighty  were  fellow- 
traders  in  love.     With  them.  Love  was  the  sole  thought,  the  business 

*  Act  II,  sc.  V,  line  I. 


PREFACE  XV 

of  their  lives,  as  it  is  with  all  true  lovers.  Was  it  not  Cleopatra's 
'  infinite  variety '  that  enthralled  and  held  Anthony's  heart?  His  love 
for  her  was  not  of  the  senses ;  for,  be  it  remembered,  Cleopatra  was 
not  beautiful  j  she  had  no  physical  allurements  \  but  she  could  laugh 
Anthony  out  of  patience  and  then  laugh  him  into  patience,  and  dress 
him  up  in  women's  clothes  and  laugh  consumedly  at  him.  And  he 
never  knew  at  what  instant  her  mood  would  change  from  imperial 
scorn  to  humble,  irresistible  tenderness.  These  are  some  of  the 
charms  of  infinite  variety  which  are  attractive  to  a  man  whose  grey 
hairs  do  something  mingle  with  the  brown. 

If  we  read  it  aright,  the  whole  of  the  Fifth  Act  is  a  vindication  of 
Cleopatra.  The  very  first  words  in  it  from  her  lips  reveal  the  change 
which  Anthony's  death  had  wrought : 

'  My  desolation  does  begin  to  make 
*A  better  life.' 
And  this  better  life  reveals  to  her  that  greatness  is  merely  relative, — 
that  true  greatness  consists  in  rising  so  superior  to  life  that  life  can  be 
cast  off  with  indifference, — 

*  To  do  that  thing  that  ends  all  other  deeds, 
'Which  shackles  accidents,  and  bolts  up  change.' 

From  now  on,  to  her  last  hour,  her  resolution  never  falters.  Of  course, 
she  wishes  to  make  the  best  terms  for  her  children,  and  it  is  of  impor- 
tance to  know  how  Csesar  proposes  to  treat  her.  If  he  is  to  leave  her 
in  Egypt  her  plans  can  be  completed  at  will  after  his  departure,  but 
if  he  is  to  send  her  to  Rome  immediately,  no  time  is  to  be  lost.  But 
before  she  has  any  interview  with  Caesar,  she  describes  to  Dolabella, 
under  the  guise  of  a  dream,  the  proportions  and  qualities  of  the  man 
she  worshipped  as  Anthony.  Every  word  springs  to  her  lips,  hot  from 
the  heart.  We  see  her  rapt,  upturned  gaze,  and  mark  the  sensitive, 
quivering  mouth  as  she  describes  the  man  whom  she  adored : 
'  His  face  was  as  the  heavens ;  and  therein  stuck 
'  A  sun  and  moon,  which  kept  their  course,  and  lighted 

*  The  little  O,  the  earth. 

'  His  legs  bestrid  the  ocean ;  his  rear'd  arm 
'  Crested  the  world ;  his  voice  was  propertied 
'  As  all  the  tuned  spheres,  and  that  to  friends ; 
'  But  when  he  meant  to  quail  and  shake  the  orb, 

*  He  was  as  rattling  thunder.     For  his  bounty 

*  There  was  no  winter  in't ;  an  Anthony  it  was 
'That  grew  the  more  by  reaping.' 

Where  in  this  description  is  there  a  trace  of  '  passion  or  appetite '  or 
'  sensuality '  ?   It  is  cruel  to  ask  the  question.     But  to  those  who  ascribe 


xvi  PREFACE 

to  her  love  these  debasing  qualities  it  is  right  that  the  question  should 
be  brought  home. 

That  the  student  may  have  close  at  hand  every  facility  for  the  study 
of  this  play,  there  is  reprinted  in  the  Appendix  Drvden's  All  far  Lave^ 
the  only  tragedy  with  the  loves  of  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  as  its  theme 
that  deserves  to  stand  in  the  neighborhood  of  Shakespeare.  None 
of  Drvden's  other  plays  attained  a  popularity  as  great  as  this ;  for  full 
eighty  years,  from  1678  to  1759,  it  usurped  Shakespeare's  tragedy  on 
the  stage ;  and,  indeed,  in  these  latter  days  came  perilously  and  incom- 
prehensibly near  to  shaking  the  allegiance  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  It 
is  an  admirable  play,  and  is  decried  only  by  those  who  have  never  read 
it  as  attentively  as  it  deserves.  Drvden's  own  opinion  of  it,  or  at  least 
of  one  Scene,  and  his  aim  throughout,  in  its  composition,  are  contained 
in  its  Preface,  It  is  followed,  in  the  Appendix^  by  certain  criticisms 
of  it  by  those  whose  opinions  are  worthy  of  all  respect.  Drvden  has 
been  censiured  for  bringing  together  Octavia  and  Cleopatra,  and  their 
interview  has  been  characterised, — imworthily,  it  seems  to  me, — as  a 
*  scolding  match.'  Octavia  is,  perhaps,  a  little  less  queenly  than  Cleo- 
patra, but  both  are  as  dignified  as  were,  probably,  any  high-bom  women 
whom  Drvden  had  ever  seen.  One  retort  there  is  of  Cleopatra  which 
would  hardly  discredit  Shakespeare.  In  the  Third  Act  Octavia 
enters,  and  coldly  addresses  Cleopatra : 

'  I  need  not  ask  if  you  are  Cleopatra, 

Your  haughty  carriage 

Cleopatra,  Shows  I  am  a  queen. 

Nor  need  I  ask  who  you  are. 

Octavia,  A  Roman. 

A  name  that  makes  and  can  unmake  a  queen. 

Cleopatra.  Your  Lord,  the  man  who  serves  me,  is  a  Roman.' 
It  would  not  be  easy,  I  think,  to  parallel  the  neatness  of  this  stab. 
It  is  almost  incomprehensible  that  Drvden  should  have  brought 
himself  to  depict  a  Cleopatra  so  utterly  unlike  the  Cleopatra  of  him, 
whom,  in  his  Prefcue^  he  styled  divine.  He  failed,  apparently  com- 
pletely, to  understand  or  appreciate  Shakespeare's  Egyptian  Queen. 
Had  he  caught  but  a  glimpse  of  that  Queen  he  could  not,  one  would 
think,  present  a  Cleopatra,  who  describes  herself  as 

'  a  silly  harmless  household  dove, 
'  Fond  without  art,  and  kind  without  deceit. ' 

There  is  no  department  within  the  scope  of  these  volumes  which  is 
to  me  more  unsatis&ctory  and  more  unremunerative  than  that  which 


PREFACE  xvii 

deals  with  Actors.  If  the  fame  of  Actors  be  transitory,  rarely  surviving 
the  living  presence,  the  fault  lies  in  the  lack  of  befitting  memorials ;  the 
details  of  their  acting  are  not  adequately  recorded.  Emotional  impres- 
sions  we  have  in  abundance.  But  these  are  worthless  as  far  as  trans- 
mitting any  definite  conception  of  the  actor's  art  is  concerned.  Possi- 
bly, during  the  actor's  lifetime  and  while  still  before  the  public,  these 
effusions  may  serve  as  advertisements ;  when  a  man,  learned  and  liter- 
ary, acknowledges  publicly,  in  print,  that  he  has  been  thrilled,  of  course 
we  all  wish  to  experience  the  same  emotion  and  flock  to  the  theatre 
for  that  purpose.  But  the  future  fame  of  the  actor  has  been  no  whit 
advanced.  What  definite  idea  is  conveyed  to  us  when  we  read  that  in 
such  or  such  a  part  Garrick  was  '  most  impressive,'  or  that  Kean  was 
'superbly  grand,'  or  that  Mrs  Siddons  was  *  ineffably  tragic '  ?  What 
we  want  to  know  are  the  emphasis,  and  the  accent  of  words  and  phrases, 
the  pauses,  the  gesticulation,  the  expression,  and,  in  addition,  what  is 
technically  known  as  'stage  business.'  Without  explicit  information 
on  such  points,  honest  old  Downes's  descriptions  are  as  satisfactory  as 
the  most  elaborate  of  impressions,  when  he  observes  that  *  Mr  Dogget 
'was  very  aspectabund,'  or  that  Mr  Booth  was  'of  form  venust,*  or 
that  Mr  Estcourt  could  '  laetificate  his  audience.'  When  Gardiner  in 
his  Music  of  Nature  *  gives,  in  musical  notation,  the  fluctuations  and 
emphasis  of  Kean's  voice  in  certain  sentences,  he  does  more  to  transmit 
the  great  actor,  as  a  living  presence,  to  succeeding  generations  than 
folios  of  emotional  impressions.  When  Lady  Martin  in  her  Female 
Characters  in  Shakespeare  (the  finest  interpretations  that  have  ever 
been  written,  in  my  humble  opinion)  confides  to  us  her  own  feelings  at 
every  moment,  when  she  herself  was  the  veritable  Hermione,  or  Portia^ 
or  Rosalinda  she  places  on  record,  not  alone  the  scope  of  her  own  trans- 
cendant  gifts,  but  also  an  illuminating  guide  for  all  time  to  both  actors 
and  public. 

Of  all  the  stories  that  History  has  transmitted,  none  possesses,  it 
would  appear,  such  imiversal  interest  as  a  theme  for  dramatic  tragedy 
as  the  loves  of  Anthony  and  Cleopatra.  In  proof  of  this  pre-eminence 
it  is  noteworthy  that  in  the  Dramatic  Literatures  of  both  France  antf 
Germany,  this  story  is  the  subject  of  the  earliest  tragedy.  Cleopatre 
Captive  by  Estienne  Jodelle,  in  1552,  is  chronologically  the  first 
French  tragedy,  and  Cleopatra  by  Daniel  Casper,  in  1661,  is  the  first 
German.  And  in  each  coimtry  there  have  been  successive  versions, 
down  to  Mad.  de  Girardin's,  in  1847,  ^^nd  Dingelstedt's,  in  1878. 

*  See  Merchant  of  Venue ^  p.  380,  of  this  edition. 


xviii  PRE  FA  CE 

In  the  belief  that  a  comparison  of  the  varied  treatment  of  this 
theme  would  prove  to  others  as  interesting  as  it  has  proved  to  myself, 
I  have  given,  in  the  Appendix^  brief  abstracts  of  about  twenty  Versions  ; 
not,  be  it  understood,  adaptations  to  the  stage  of  Shakespeare's  play, 
but  distinct  treatments  of  the  same  tragic  fable.  I  have  not  included 
those  dramas  which  portray  Cleopatra's  life  before  she  met  Anthony, 
such  as  Corneille's  Pompie,  Gibber's  Casar  in  Egypt^  etc.  I  have 
made  an  exception,  however,  in  favour  of  The  False  One,  by  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher.  This  drama  is  referred  to  so  constantly  in  con- 
nection with  Shakespeare's  play,  that,  in  an  edition  like  the  present, 
it  could  not  well  be  passed  over  in  silence.  A  glance  at  the  following 
list  of  Versions,  whereof  abstracts  are  given  in  the  Appendix,  will 
show  how  ever  present  in  the  minds  of  men  have  been  these  immortal 
loves  of  Anthony  and  Cleopatra:  Jodelle,  1552;  Garnier,  1578; 
CiNTHio,  1583;  Daniel,  1594;  May,  1654;  Delfino,  1660;  Casper, 
1661 ;  Sedley,  1677 ;  Dryden,  1678 ;  de  la  Chapelle,  1683 ;  Boistel, 
1743 ;  Marmontel,  1750;  Alfieri,  1775  ;  Brooke,  1778 ;  Ayrenhoff, 
1783;  voN  SoDEN,  1793  '>  KoTZEBUE,  1801 ;  Le  Citoyen,  S.  D.  M.  An. 
XI. — 1803;  SouMET,  1825;  Mad.  DE  GiRARDiN,  1847 ;  G.  Conrad 
(Prince  George  of  Prussia),  1868;  and  Dingelstedt,  1878. 

These  are  not  all.  There  are  several  others,  described  by  Dr 
Georg  Hermann  Moeller,*  but  I  have  been  unable  to  procure 
them,  and  have  deemed  the  foregoing  assuredly  sufficient. 

None  of  these  Versions  reveals  any  decided  influence  of  Shake- 
speare ;  occasionally,  there  are  similarities  or  parallelisms,  which  may 
be  traced,  however,  to  Plutarch,  the  source  common  to  all.  This 
assertion  should  be  qualified,  perhaps,  in  two  instances  where  Shake- 
speare is  openly  followed  up  to  a  certain  point,  and  then  there  occurs 
a  wide  divergence ;  one  is  by  Henry  Brooke,  the  author  of  The  Fool 
of  Quality,  who  introduces  the  two  children  of  Anthony,  and  Rolemy, 
Cleopatra's  brother ;  and  the  other  is  by  Dingelstedt,  who  represents 
Qeopatra's  love  for  Anthony  as  turned  into  fiendish  hate  by  the  whip- 
ping of  *Thyreus.* 

In  describing  these  Versions  my  aim  has  been  to  set  forth  the 
dramatist's  conception  of  the  character  of  Cleopatra,  and  I  have,  there- 
fore, translated  chiefly  what  relates  to  her.  In  Anthony's  character 
there  is  little  variety ;  his  vacillation  has  been  interpreted  as  weak- 
ness, and  this  weakness  has  been  converted  into  tameness,  wherein  there 
is  nothing  respectable  or  lovable.  In  Boistel,  however,  we  And  an 
exception.     His  Anthony  is  aware  of  his  own  vacillation,  and,  to  pre- 

*  Auffassumg  der  KUoptUra  in  der  TyagoedienHteratur,  etc.,  Ulm.  1888, — to  which 
I  am  glad  to  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  in  obtaining  a  list  of  the  Versions. 


PREFACE  xi:t 

dude  all  chance  of  change,  openly  proclaims  before  his  army  that  he 
repudiates  Octavia,  and  that  Cleopatra  is  his  wife  and  their  sovereign 
queen. 

The  '  infinite  variety '  which  lies  in  Shakespeare's  Cleopatra  seems 
to  have  invaded  the  conception  of  her  character  by  the  various  dram- 
atists. This  conception  ranges  from  a  beatification,  with  a  benig- 
nity which  enfolds  even  Octavia,  to  a  blood-thirsty  ferocity,  which, 
in  one  instance,  attempts  to  assassinate  Antony,  and,  in  another, 
does  actually  kill  Octavia.  Sufficient  praise  is  not,  I  think,  awarded 
to  JODELLE,  whose  Cleopatra  is  really  touching  in  her  simple  misery, 
and  in  the  plaintive  confessions  of  her  many  sins.  In  one  regard 
his  Version  is  certainly  noteworthy;  although  he  was  trammeled  by 
the  necessity  of  following  Seneca,  he  was,  nevertheless,  sufficiently 
keen-sighted  to  appreciate  the  characteristic  treatment  of  Seleucus  by 
his  heroine  and,  in  defiance  of  all  staid  Senecan  rule,  dared  to  repro- 
duce her  transports  of  fiuy  in  the  Scene  with  him,  and  to  portray  her 
attempts  to  wreak  personal  vengeance.  Herein,  for  boldness  and 
breadth,  he  transcends  all  his  long  line  of  successors  except  poor 
Citoyen  S.  D.  M[orgues],  who,  after  the  First  Act^  follows  Plutarch 
so  slavishly,  with  one  or  two  noteworthy  exceptions,  that  he  seems  to 
have  inserted  this  Scene  with  Seleucus  by  mere  force  of  habit.  When 
we  recall  the  year  in  which  Jodelle*s  Cleopatra  was  written, — ^in  the 
earliest  infancy  of  the  modern  drama, — our  admiration  must  be  kindled 
afresh  for  a  work  so  worthy  of  a  French  PUiade, 

As  much  cannot  be  said,  it  is  to  be  feared,  of  the  earliest  offspring 
of  the  German  tragic  Muse,  the  prodigious  bantling  of  Daniel  Casper 
VON  LoHENSTEiN,  which  extcnds  to  over  four  thousand  lines  of  rhymed 
Alexandrines.  Casper's  knowledge  of  the  Egyptian  religion,  with  its 
elaborate  burial  rites,  was,  for  his  day,  profound,  and,  in  Cleopatra's 
zealous  and  business-like  preparations  for  embalming  the  deceased 
Anthony,  Casper  found  a  truly  delightful  field  for  its  display.  Cleo- 
patra's minute  instructions  to  Iras  as  to  the  extraction  of  the  hero's 
brains  shall  not  be  repeated  here, — ^it  is  enough  that  it  has  been  printed 
once,  and  for  all,  in  the  Appendix.  For  Marmontel's  extremely  weak 
and  juvenile  version,  it  is  said  that  the  celebrated  Vaucanson  made  an 
automatic  aspic  which  imitated  the  movements  and  the  hissing  of  a 
living  one.  It  was  forbidden,  at  that  time,  to  hiss  in  the  theatre,  and 
soldiers  were  actually  placed  on  guard  to  see  that  the  order  was  rigidly 
obeyed.  When  the  aspic  darted  at  Cleopatra's  breast  it  hissed  loudly. 
As  the  curtain  fell,  a  man  in  the  audience  asked  his  neighbour  what  he 
thought  of  the  play,  and  received  in  reply, '  Je  suis  de  I'avis  de  1' aspic  !  * 
The  mot  spread  and  did  much  to  kill  the  play. 


XX  PREFACE 

In  reviewing  these  Versions  there  rise  in  my  memory  three  that 
possess  a  surpassing  charm:  Delfino's,  wherein  the  cold-blooded, 
austere  Octavius  is  converted  into  a  warm-blooded  Italian  lover  and 
the  timid,  repentant  Cleopatra  basks  for  a  few  short  hours  in  the 
warmth  of  his  love;  secondly,  Madame  de  Girardin's,  which  is 
pervaded  by  an  Egyptian  atmosphere,  and  where  the  intellectual 
side  of  Cleopatra's  character  is  emphasised,  and  where  the  sight  of 
Octavia  awakens  in  the  Egyptian  Queen,  for  the  first  time,  a  recog- 
nition of  the  nobleness  of  virtue ;  and,  lastly,  Conrad's,  where  the 
poetry  of  life  and  of  art  and  of  love,  personified  in  Cleopatra,  comes 
into  collision  with  the  harsh,  granitic  prose  of  common  life,  as  repre- 
sented in  Octavius, — ^where  poesy  is  crushed,  and  youth  with  its  enthu- 
siasms, represented  in  Dolabella,  expires  on  her  lifeless  body. 

Apart  from  the  interest  awakened  on  their  own  account  by  these 
Versions^  may  there  not  spring  from  reading  them  a  delight,  keener 
and  more  triumphant,  in  seeing  how  immeasurably  Shakespeare  has 
siupassed  them  all  ?  In  other  lands  and  in  other  tongues  tragedy  afler 
tragedy  on  this  theme  has  been  written,  and  may  still  be  written,  but, 
for  those  whose  mother-tongue  is  English,  the  tragedy  of  Anthony  and 
Cleopatra  has  been  written  once  and  for  all  time. 

H.  H.  F. 
August,  1907. 


Anthony  and   Cleopatra 


Dramatis  Perfona 


TVyT    Antony. 

^^^  •  Odlavius  Caelar. 

Lepidus.  4 

1.  First   given   by  Rowe.      Persons        et  seq.  (sobs.) 

represented.  Cap.  4.  LepidusJ\       jEmilius       Lepidus^ 

2.  3,  4.  Marked  as  Triumtnrs,  Cap.        Theob.  et  seq. 

3.  O^tavius  Cesar]  L.  Schmitz  (Smith,  Dictionary,  s.  ▼.) :  Augustus,  the  first 
Emperor  of  the  Roman  Empire,  was  bom  B.C  63  ;  his  grandmother  was  Julia,  Julius 
Caesar's  sister;  he  was,  therefore,  Caesar's  grandnephew.  He  was  most  carefully 
educated  and  became  very  early  a  great  favourite  of  his  grandnncle  who,  being  child- 
less, is  said  to  have  made  his  will  in  favour  of  Octavius,  as  Augustus  was  then  called. 
The  name  Augustus,  by  which  he  is  best  known,  was  conferred  upon  him  later  by  the 
Senate.  After  the  death  of  Caesar,  Augustus  joined  Antonius  in  prosecuting  a  war 
against  Caesar's  murderers.  In  the  course  of  it,  the  first  Triumvirate  was  formed,  con- 
sisting of  Antonius,  Augustus,  and  Lepidus,  and  in  the  proscriptions  of  the  adherents 
of  Brutus  and  Cassius  which  followed,  Augustus  was  no  less  cruel  than  Antonius. 
After  the  battle  of  Philippi  where  Brutus  and  Cassius  in  despair  committed  suicide, 
and  where  the  victory  was  mainly  gained  by  Antonius,  a  new  division  of  the  world 
was  made  by  the  Triumvirs,  and  Augustus  returned  to  Italy.  Here  Fulvia,  Antonius' 
wife,  fomented  quarrels  and  insurrections  in  order  to  draw  her  husband  away  from 
Qeopatra.  Augustus,  however,  succeeded  in  defeating  these  garboils  and  Fulvia' s 
death  at  Sicyon  accelerated  a  peace  between  him  and  Antonius,  which  was  further 
cemented  by  the  marriage  of  the  latter  to  Octavia,  the  sister  of  Augustus.  Peace 
seemed  to  be  now  restored  everywhere,  but  Augustus  was  anxious  to  find  some  pre- 
text whereby  he  could  deprive  Sextus  Pompeius  of  his  provinces  which  more  or  less 
controlled  the  supplies  of  food  for  Rome.  This  pretext  was  found  in  an  accusation 
that  Pompeius  upheld  piracy,  and  in  a  war  which  followed  Augustus  was  victorious 
and  Pompeius  fled  to  Asia,  and  Lepidus  who  wanted  Sicily  from  which  Pompeius 
had  just  been  driven  was  deprived  of  his  army  and  sent  to  Rome  where  he  ended  his 
days  as  Pontifex  Maximus.  Having  thus  disposed  of  two  of  his  rivals,  Augustus  felt 
himself  strong  enough  to  cope  with  the  third,  Antonius,  whose  arrogant  proceedings 
in  the  East,  coupled  with  his  repudiation  of  Octavia,  afforded  ample  grounds  to 
Augustus  for  representing  him  as  an  enemy  to  Rome.  War  was  now  declared  against 
Cleopatra,  for  Antonius  was  looked  upon  as  merely  her  infatuated  slave.  After  the 
battle  of  Actlum  in  September,  B.C.  31,  and  the  deaths  of  Antonius  and  Cleopatra, 
Egypt  was  made  a  Roman  province.  [His  subsequent  career  has  no  bearing  on  this 
play,  and  is,  therefore,  omitted.  ] 

4.  Lepidus]  M.  iEmil.  Lepidus,  the  Triumvir,  is  first  mentioned  in  the  year  B.a 
52,  when  the  Senate  appointed  him  Interrex.    In  the  civil  war  between  Caesar  and 

X  z 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 
Sex.  Pompeius. 

5.  Sextus  Pompeius]  Om.  Kemble. 


Pompey,  Lepidus,  who  was  then  Praetor,  joined  Caesar.  On  the  evening  before  the 
fatal  15th  of  March,  Caesar  had  supped  with  Lepidus  who  was  present  on  the  follow- 
ing day  in  the  Curia  of  Pompey,  in  the  Campus  Martius,  and  saw  Caesar  fall  by  the 
hands  of  the  assassins ;  Lepidus  stole  hastily  away,  and  repaired  to  his  troops  which 
he  was  then  collecting  for  his  province.  In  the  turbulent  times  which  followed, 
Lepidus  endeavoured  to  remain  neutral  but  was  at  last  compelled  again  to  espouse 
Antony's  side  and  toward  the  end  of  the  year  the  celebrated  conference  took  place 
at  Bononia  between  Octavius,  Antony,  and  Lepidus,  which  resulted  in  the  Trium- 
virate. In  the  proscription-lists  which  followed  this  conference,  Lepidus  placed  the 
name  of  his  own  brother,  Paullus,  who,  to  be  sure,  had  been  one  of  the  Senators  who 
had  proclaimed  his  brother  iSmilius  a  public  enemy  for  having  joined  Antonius ;  the 
soldiers,  however,  who  were  appointed  to  kill  him  allowed  him  to  escape,  possibly 
with  the  connivance  of  his  brother.  In  B.C.  36,  Octavius  summoned  him  to  Sicily  to 
assist  in  a  war  against  Sextus  Pompeius.  Lepidus  obeyed,  but  tired  of  being  treated 
as  a  subordinate,  he  resolved  to  acquire  Sicily  for  himself,  and  regain  his  lost  power. 
But  he  did  not  possess  the  confidence  of  his  army ;  and  Octavius  found  means  on  his 
arrival  to  seduce  it  from  its  allegiance.  Detachment  after  detachment  deserted 
Lepidus,  who  was  at  last  forced  to  surrender.  All  his  courage  forsook  him.  He 
put  on  mourning,  and  threw  himself  before  the  knees  of  Octavius,  begging  for  life. 
This  was  granted  to  him;  Octavius  then  deprived  him  of  his  Triumvirate,  his  army,  and 
his  provinces,  but  allowed  him  to  retain  his  private  fortune.  Still,  insults  and  the  loss 
of  honour  and  rank  did  not  shorten  bis  life;  he  survived  till  B.C.  13.  Lepidus  had  no 
decided  character  and  was  as  incapable  of  committing  great  crimes  as  of  performing 
Doble  acts.  He  possessed  great  wealth  and  was  little  scrupulous  as  to  the  means  of 
gaining  it.  Neither  in  war,  nor  in  peace  did  he  show  any  distinguished  ability.  His 
wife  was  Junia,  a  sister  of  the  Brutus  who  killed  Caesar.  (Much  condensed  from  an 
unsigned  article  in  Smith's  Dictionary.) 

5.  Sextus  Pompeius]  E.  H.  Bunbury  (Smith,  Dictionary ^  s.  v.)  :  Sextus  Pom- 
peius, the  younger  son  of  the  Triumvir,  was  bom  B.C.  75,  since  he  was  forty  at  the 
time  of  his  death  in  B.C.  35.  He  did  not  possess  any  great  abilities.  He  took  arms 
from  necessity,  as  he  was  first  deprived  of  everything  by  Caesar,  and  then  proscribed 
by  the  Triumvirs.  His  success  was  owing  more  to  circumstances  than  to  his  own 
merits ;  the  war  between  the  Triumvirs  and  the  republicans,  and  subsequently  the 
misunderstandings  between  Octavius  and  Antonius  enabled  him  to  obtain  and  keep 
possession  of  Sicily.  He  seems  never  to  have  aspired  to  supreme  power.  He  was 
personally  brave,  but  deficient  in  refinement,  with  hardly  any  knowledge  of  literature. 
Paterculus  says  that  he  could  not  speak  correctly,  but  this  is  doubtless  an  exaggeration. 
In  B.C.  38  he  sustained  a  severe  loss  in  the  desertion  of  one  of  his  principal  legates, 
Menas,  who  surrendered  to  Octavius  Sardinia  and  Corsica  together  with  a  large  naval 
and  military  force.  After  varying  fortune  in  his  contests  with  Octavius,  Pompeius 
was  at  last  disastrously  defeated  by  Agrippa,  Octovius's  legate,  B.c  36.  In  the  fol- 
lowing year  Antonius  gathered  a  large  force  by  land  and  sea  which  threatened 
to  crush  Pompeius;  whereupon  his  friends,  among  them  his  father-in-law,  and 
his  soldiers  deserted  him ;  he  was  obliged  to  surrender  and  was  put  to  death, 
B.C.  35. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 
. ,.       '    \  Friends  and  Followers  of  Antony. 


Enobarbus 
Ventidius 


6.  Enobarbus^  Domiiius  Enobarbus^  7.    Ventidius\  Om.  Gar.  Kemble. 

Theob.  et  seq.  (subs.) 


6.  Domitius  Enobarbus]  Smith  {Dictionary ^  s.  ▼. )  :  Cn.  Domitius  Ahenobarbus 
[i.  e.  Red-beard  "^  had  probably  no  share  in  the  murder  of  Caesar ;  but  followed  Brutus 
into  Macedonia  after  Caesar's  death,  and  was  condemned  by  the  Lex  Pedia  in  B.c.  43 
as  one  of  the  murderers.  A  year  or  two  later  Ahenobarbus  became  reconcile  to 
Antony  which  gave  great  offence  to  Octavius.  When  the  open  rupture  took  place 
between  Antony  and  OcUvius,  Ahenobarbus  fled  from  Rome  to  Antony,  at  Ephesus, 
where  he  found  Cleopatra  with  him,  and  endeavoured,  in  vain,  to  obtain  her  removal 
from  the  army.  Many  of  the  soldiers,  disgusted  with  the  conduct  of  Antony,  offered 
the  command  to  him  ;  but  he  preferred  deserting  the  party  altogether,  and  accordingly 
went  over  to  Octavius  shortly  before  the  battle  of  Actium.  He  was  not,  however, 
present  at  the  battle ;  he  died  a  few  days  after  joining  Octavius.  [Walker  (  Vers, 
186)  remarks  that  this  name  *  is  frequently  used  as  if  it  were  a  trisyllable,  in  whatever 
way  the  anomaly  is  to  be  explained,' — ^a  remark  which  reveals  Walker's  strength  and 
his  weakness ;  his  strength,  in  that  it  is  a  proof  of  his  extraordinary  observation,  and 
his  weakness,  in  that  it  makes  no  allowance  for  the  position  of  a  word  in  a  line,  or 
for  the  liberty  permissible  in  dramatic  colloquies.  In  all  the  five  examples  which 
Walker  quotes,  the  name  occurs  either  in  a  broken  line  or  at  the  end  of  a  line, — where 
there  is  always  for  proper  names  a  certain  freedom  in  rhythm,  and  where  in  this  par- 
ticular case,  the  name  can  be  without  harshness  pronounced  as  a  quadrisyllable  ;  and 
that  it  was  intended  to  be  so  pronounced  we  can  almost  positively  conclude,  because 
when  Shakespeare  wished  it  to  be  a  trisyllable  it  was  so  spelled,  namely :  *  You  see 
we  hane  burnt  our  cheekes.  Strong  Enobarbe'  II,  vii,  144. — an  instance  which 
Walker  seems  to  have  overlooked.  For  those  who  may  be  interested  in  this  question, 
I  subjoin  the  places  where  the  name  occurs  : — I,  ii,  153  ;  II,  ii,  i ;  II,  ii,  283 ;  II, 
vii,  144;  III,  ii,  64;  III,  xiii,  I ;  IV,  v.  lo;  IV,  v,  23 ;  IV,  vi,  26;  IV,  vii,  32; 
IV,  ix,  12  (bis).  It  may  be  possibly  worthy  of  note  as  a  proof  of  Shakespeare's 
exclusive  dependence  on  North's  translation,  that  in  Latin  the  name  is  not  Enobarbus, 
bat  Ahiobarbus  or  Ahenobarbus^  which  the  Domitian  clan  bore  in  memory  of  the 
appearance,  to  their  founder,  of  Castor  and  Pollux  who  bade  him  carry  the  news  of  a 
victory  to  Rome  and  confirmed  his  faith  in  their  divinity  by  gently  stroking  his  black 
beard  which  turned  immediately  to  a  red  or  bronxe  hue,  hence  Ahenobarbus,  See 
Snetonios  at  the  beginning  of  his  Life  of  Nero,  who  was  of  this  family. — Ed.] 

7.  Ventidius]  Georgb  Long  (Smith's  Dictionary,  s.  v.)  :  <P.  Ventidius  Bassus 
was  a  native  of  Picenum,  and  having  fought  against  the  Romans,  he  was  made 
prisoner  by  Pompeius  Strabo,  and  appeared  in  his  triumphal  procession  in  chains ; 
after  this,  being  manumitted,  he  was  admitted  into  the  Senate  in  the  course  of  time, 
and  was  then  made  Praetor  in  the  time  of  Caesar,  and  attained  such  honour  as  to  con- 
quer the  Parthians  and  to  enjoy  a  triumph  for  his  victory.' — Dion  Cass,  xliii,  51.  We 
most  infer  that  he  was  quite  a  3routh  when  he  was  captured  by  the  Romans.  When 
he  grew  up  to  man's  estate,  he  got  a  poor  living  by  furnishing  mules  and  vehicles  for 
those  magistrates  who  went  from  Rome  to  administer  a  province.  In  this  humble 
employment  he  became  known  to  Julius  Caesar,  whom  he  accompanied  into  Gaul. 
After  Caesar's  death,  Ventidius  sided  with  Antonius  in  the  war  of  Mutina,  B.C.  43.    In 


CanidiuSy 

Eros, 

Scarus, 

Decretas, 

Demetrius, 


DRAMATIS  PERSONjE 

8 

>  Friends  and  Followers  of  Antony. 


12 


8.  Canidms,'\  Canidius^  Leeutenani-  lo.  Friends... ^iii/<Mi^]Antonimos,Ci^. 

Getura/ /o  Antony,  MaX,  €i  seq.  il,  Decretas\    Rowc,    Pope,   Warb. 

lo.  Scarus'\      Om.      Gar.       TUius.  Dercetas,  Theob.  et  cet  Om.  Kemble. 

Kemble.  I2.  Dem€irius\  Om.  Kemble. 


B.C  39,  Antonius  sent  Ventidlus  into  Asia  to  oppose  the  Parthians  under  Labienus, 
whom  Ventidius  defeated  and  in  the  following  year  attacked  Pacorus,  king  of  the 
Parthians,  whom  also  he  defeated.  Pacorus  fell  in  battle  and  his  head  was  sent 
round  to  the  Syrian  cities,  thereby  inducing  them  to  keep  quiet  In  the  meantime 
Antonius  arrived,  and  so  far  from  being  pleased  with  the  success  of  Ventidius,  he 
showed  great  jealousy  of  him,  and  treated  him  in  an  unworthy  manner.  It  is  said 
that  Antiochus  had  ofiered  Ventidius  a  thousand  talents  as  the  price  of  peace,  and  that 
Antonius,  who  undertook  the  siege  of  Samosata,  was  obliged  to  be  content  with  three 
hundred.  The  Senate  decreed  to  Antonius. a  triumph  for  the  victories  of  Ventidius; 
and  Antonius  rewarded  his  general  by  dismissing  him  from  his  employment.  Yet 
the  services  of  Ventidius  were  too  great  to  be  overlooked,  and  on  coming  to  Rome, 
he  had  a  triumph,  B.C.  38.     Nothing  more  is  known  of  him. 

8.  Canidius]  L.  Schmitz  (Smith's  Diet.)  :  L.  Canidius  Crassus  was  with  Lepidus 
in  Gaul,  in  B.C.  43,  when  Antonius  was  compelled  to  seek  refuge  there  and  was  the 
main  instrument  in  bringing  about  the  union  between  Lepidus  and  Antony.  In 
B.C  32,  when  Antonius  resolved  upon  the  war  with  Octavius,  Canidius  was  com- 
missioned to  lead  the  army  stationed  in  Armenia  to  the  coast.  On  the  outbreak  of 
the  war,  many  of  Antonius' s  friends  advised  him  to  remove  Cleopatra  from  the  army, 
but  Canidius  who  was  bribed  by  the  queen,  opposed  this  plan,  and  she  accordingly 
accompanied  her  lover  to  the  fatal  war.  Shortly  afterward,  however,  Canidius  also 
advised  Antonius  to  send  her  back  to  Egypt,  and  to  fight  the  decisive  battle  on  land 
and  not  on  sea.  This  time  his  advice  was  disregarded.  During  the  battle  of  Actium, 
Canidius  who  had  conunand  of  Antonius's  land  forces,  could  act  the  part  only  of  a 
spectator.  After  the  unfortunate  issue  of  tlie  sea-fight,  Canidius  and  his  army  still 
held  out  for  seven  days  in  the  hope  that  Antonius  would  return ;  but  in  the  end 
Canidius  in  despair  took  to  flight,  and  followed  his  master  to  Alexandria,  where  he 
informed  him  of  the  issue  of  the  contest  and  of  the  fate  of  his  army.  After  the  fall 
of  Antonius,  Canidius  was  put  to  death  by  the  command  of  Octavius.  He  died  as  a 
coward,  although  in  times  of  prosperity  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  boasting  that 
death  had  no  terrors  for  him. 

10.  Scams]  William  Ramsay  (Smith's  Diciionary)  :  M.  iCmilius  Scaurus  was 
the  son  of  M.  i^milius  Scaurus  and  Muda,  the  former  wife  of  Pompey,  the  Triumvir, 
and  consequently  the  half-brother  of  Sextus  Pompeius.  He  accompanied  the  latter 
into  Asia  after  the  defeat  of  his  fleet  in  Sicily,  but  betrayed  him  into  the  hands  of  the 
generals  of  Antonius,  in  B.C.  35.  After  the  batde  of  Actium,  he  fell  into  the  power 
of  Octavius,  and  escaped  death,  to  which  he  had  been  sentenced,  only  through  the 
intercession  of  his  mother,  Mucia.     [See  CapelPs  note,  IV,  vii,  7.] 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAL 


5 


Philo,  Friend  and  Follower  of  Antony.  1 3 

Mecsenas,      1 

A  >  Friends  to  Caefar. 

Agnppa,        J  15 

13.  PkiIo„.'\  Om.  Gar.  Kemble.  latfu.  (i.  e.  Antonians),  Cap. 
[Att^ndantSf   five ;    Messengers^  14.  Mecana5\  Macenas  Cam.  Rife. 

six;   Soldiers  (or  Guards),  nine;   the 

14.  Mecsenas]  Thomas  Dyer  (Smith's  Dictionary ,  greatly  condensed) :  It  is 
most  probable  that  Maecenas  (it  seems  to  be  agreed  that  this  spelling  is  right)  was 
bom  between  B.C.  73  and  63  ;  his  family  was  of  high  antiquity  and  traced  its  descent 
from  an  Etruscan  source.  All  that  we  know  of  his  life  is  to  be  gathered  from  scattered 
notices  of  him  in  poets  and  historians  of  Rome.  Shortly  after  the  appearance  of 
Octarius  on  the  political  stage,  we  find  the  name  of  Maecenas  in  frequent  association 
with  his ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  of  great  use  to  him  in  assisting  him 
to  consolidate  and  establish  the  empire.  In  the  year  B.C.  40,  Maecenas  took  part  in  the 
negotiations  with  Antonius  which  led  to  the  peace  of  Brundusium,  confirmed  by  the 
marriage  of  Antonius  with  Octavia,  the  sister  of  Octavius.  About  two  years  afterward 
Maecenas  seems  to  have  been  employed  in  negotiating  with  Antonius,  and  it  was 
probably  on  this  occasion  that  Horace  accompanied  him  to  Bnindusium,  a  journey 
which  he  has  described  in  the  Satire,  i,  5.  In  B.C.  36  we  find  Maecenas  in  Sicily 
with  Octavius,  then  engaged  in  an  expedition  against  Sextus  Pompeius.  From  this 
time  till  the  battle  of  Actium,  B.C.  31,  history  is  silent  concerning  him  ;  but  at  that 
period  we  find  him  again  intrusted  with  the  administration  of  the  civil  affairs  of  Italy. 
It  has  indeed  been  maintained  by  many  critics  that  Maecenas  was  present  at  the  sea- 
fight  of  Actium  ;  but  the  best  modern  scholars  who  have  discussed  the  subject  have 
shown  that  this  could  not  have  been  the  case  and  that  he  remained  in  Rome  during 
this  time.  [His  subsequent  life,  familiar  to  us  all  as  the  munificent  patron  of  learn- 
ing and  of  poets,  has  no  connection  with  the  present  play,  and  is,  therefore,  omitted.] 

15.  Agrippa]  WiLUAM  Plate  (Smith,  Diet,  s.v,)i  M.  Vipsanius  Agrippa  was 
bom  B.C.  63,  and  was  descended  from  a  very  obscure  family.  At  the  age  of  twenty 
he  studied  at  Apollonia  in  Illyria,  together  with  young  Octavius,  afterwards  Augustus. 
After  the  murder  of  Caesar,  Agrippa  advised  Octavius  to  proceed  immediately  to 
Rome.  Octavius  took  Agrippa  with  him,  and  in  B.C.  43  gave  him  the  delicate  com- 
mission of  prosecuting  Cassius,  one  of  the  murderers  of  Caesar  At  the  outbreak  of 
the  Perusinian  war  between  Octavius  and  L.  Antonius,  Agrippa  commanded  part  of 
the  forces  of  Octavius,  and  finally  besieged  L.  Antonius  in  Perusia,  and  took  the 
town.  In  B.C.  38,  Agrippa  obtained  fresh  success  in  Gaul  and  contributed  much  to 
securing  the  power  of  Octavius,  who  recalled  him  to  command  the  war  against  Sex. 
Pompeius,  and  promoted  him  to  the  consulship.  After  this  promotion,  Agrippa  was 
charged  by  Octavius  with  the  construction  of  a  fleet,  inasmuch  as  Sex.  Pompeius  was 
master  of  the  sea.  This  order  Agrippa  executed  with  prompt  energy.  The  Lucrine 
lake  was  transformed  into  a  safe  harbour  and  there  he  exercised  his  sailors  till  they 
were  able  to  encounter  the  experienced  sailors  of  Pompey.  In  two  naval  battles  he 
gained  such  victories  that  he  broke  the  naval  supremacy  of  Pompey.  In  B.c.  ^2* 
although  he  had  been  consul,  he  voluntarily  accepted  the  aedileship,  and  expended 
immense  sums  of  money  on  great  public  works.  He  restored  the  aqueducts,  and 
constructed  a  new  one,  fifteen  miles  in  length.  His  various  splendid  buildings  were 
adorned  with  statues  by  the  first  artists  in  Rome,  among  these  buildings  was  the 


6  DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Dolabella^    ^  i6 

ProculeiuSj 

Th'd*  I  ^^^^  ^^  Caefar.* 

Gall  us,  J 

'  \  Friends  to  Pompey. 

Menecrates,  J 

16.  Dolabeiia]  Om.  Kemble.  19.   GaZ/us]  Om.  Gar. 

17.  Procuieius]  Om.  Kemble.  \^MessengerSf  three  ;  Soldiers^  six ; 
*  Friends...]  Caesarians,  Cap.                     M^  ja/«^.  (i.  e.  Caesarians),  Cap. 

18.  Thidias,']  Rowe,  Pope.     TTtyrius,  20.  iWJrwflj]  Om.  Kemble. 

Han.    Tli^r^ttf,  Tbeob.etseq.    Thyrsus.  21.  J/^ni^rrtf/^j]  Om.  Gar.  Kemble. 

Dion  Cassius. 

Fhmtbeon  on  which  his  name  as  the  builder  may  still  be  read.  When  the  war  broke 
out  between  Octavius  and  Anthony,  Agrippa  was  aj^inted  commander-in-chief,  and 
in  the  battle  of  Actium,  where  he  conmianded,  the  victory  was  mainly  owing  to  his 
ikill.  [With  this  event  our  present  interest  in  him  ceases.  He  was  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  men  of  the  age  of  Augustus,  and  to  him,  as  we  all  know,  Horace 
addressed  one  of  his  Odes,'\ 

16.  Dolabeiia]  P.  Cornelius  Dolabeiia  was  the  son  of  a  profligate  father  of  th« 
tame  name  and  of  his  first  wife,  Fabia.  (The  father's  second  wife  was  Tullia,  Cicero's 
daughter.)  Very  litde  is  known  of  him  beyond  what  is  given  in  Plutarch's  Life  of 
Antonius, 

17.  Procuieius]  Concerning  the  life  of  Procuieius  there  is  litde  to  add  to  that 
which  Plutarch  (who  calls  him  Procleius)  has  given  in  his  Life  of  Antony,  Smith 
(Dictionary)  SBys  that  *  the  great  intimacy  of  Procuieius  with  Augustus  is  attested 
by  many  writers.  Dion  Cassius  speaks  of  him  and  Maecenas  as  the  principal  friends 
of  the  emperor.  Procuieius  put  an  end  to  his  own  life  by  taking  gypsum,  when  suffer- 
ing from  a  disease  of  the  stomach. ' 

20.  Menas]  Edward  Elder  (Smith's  Dictionary ^  s,  v. — much  condensed)  : 
Menas,  a  freedman  of  Pompey  the  Great  and  of  Sextus  Pompeius,  seems  to  have 
been  of  a  thoroughly  mercenary  character,  and,  in  looking  after  the  main  chance, 
assumed  and  threw  off  allegiance  with  as  much  indifference  *  as  a  huntsman,  his  pack.' 
In  B.C.  39,  when  Antony  and  Octavius  were  feasting  on  board  a  ship  of  Pompeius, 
Menas  made  to  the  latter  the  treacherous  proposal  given  in  H,  vii,  70-98.  When 
Pompeius  refused  to  become  an  accomplice  to  the  treachery,  Shakespeare  represents 
Menas  as  saying  aside  <  I'll  never  follow  thy  pall'd  fortunes  more,'  which  was  true 
only  for  a  while.  When  not  long  after  Pompey  sent  for  Menas,  the  latter  put  all  the 
messengers  to  death,  and  agreed  to  surrender  the  island  of  Sardinia  with  all  its  garri- 
sons to  Octavius,  who  treated  him  with  great  distinction  and  placed  him  in  command 
of  his  ships.  Just  before  a  re-commencement  of  hostilities  between  Pompey  and 
Octavius,  Menas  again  played  the  deserter  and  went  back  to  his  old  master.  In  the 
operations  which  followed,  Menas  gained  some  advantages ;  but  in  obedience  to  what 
he  believed  to  be  his  interest,  he  again  deserted  to  Octavius,  who  received  him  gladly, 
but  very  naturally  regarded  him  with  distrust.  In  B.C.  35  Menas  was  slain  at  the 
siege  of  Siscia. 

21.  Menecrates]  Edward  Elder  (Smith's  Dictionary^  s,v.) :  Menecntes,  a 


DRAMA  TIS  PERSONS 


7 


Varrius,  Friend  to  Pompey.  22 

Alexas,         ^ 

-^.        J        >  Servants  to  ClQopzXTdu 

Diomedes,     I  ^  2$ 

Seleucus,      J 

Silius,  an  Officer  in  Ventidius*^  Army. 

Taurus,  Lieutenant-General  to  Caesar. 

Euphronius. 

A  foothfayer.  30 

CloTvn, 

Cleopatra,  Queen  of  Mgyigt.  32 

22.    Varrius]  Om.  Gar.  Om.  Gar. 

24.  Mardiapi]  Mardian,  an  Eunuch,  28.  Taurus]  Added  by  Theob.  et 
Cap.  Om.  Kemble.  seq.  Om.  Gar. 

25.  Diomedes]  Om.  Kemble.  29.  Euphronius]   Added  to  Friends 

26.  SeUtuus]  Added  by  Han.  et  seq.  of  Antony,  Cap.  An  Ambassador  from 
(subs.)  Antony  to  Caesar.   Mai.   et    seq.   Om. 

27.  Silius]  Added  by  Theob.  et  seq.  Gar. 

freedman  of  Sextus  Pompeius,  was  sent  by  him  as  commander  of  a  large  squadron  of 
ships,  in  B.C.  38,  to  act  against  Octavius's  admiral  and  Menas,  the  renegade.  The 
fleets  came  to  an  engagement  off  Cumae,  and  Menecrates  had  the  advantage  over  the 
enemy  in  manoeuvring ;  but  burning  with  hatred  against  Menas,  he  attacked  and 
grapfded  with  the  ship  in  which  Menas  sailed,  and  though  disabled  by  a  severe  wound, 
continued  to  encourage  his  men  until  he  saw  that  the  enemy  was  on  the  point  of 
capturing  his  vessel ;  he  then  threw  himself  overboard  and  perished. 

22.  Varrius]  Walker  {Crit,  ii,  323)  suggests  that  this  is  perhaps  L.  Varius 
Cotyla,  an  officer  and  companion  of  Antony's,  and  that  Shakespeare  found  him  in 
North's  Plutarch  (p.  919,  eds.  1603  and  1612)  and  perhaps  by  a  slip  of  memory  took 
him  for  a  friend  of  Pompey's.  'The  possibility,'  Walker  adds,  *is,  however,  so 
slight,  that  it  is  only  just  worth  mentioning.' 

28.  Taurus]  W.  Smith  {Diet,  s.v,\,  Statilius  Taurus  was  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  Octavius's  generals.  At  the  battle  of  Actium,  in  B.c.  31,  Taurus  com- 
manded the  land-force  of  Octavius,  which  was  drawn  up  on  the  shore. 

32.  Cleopatra]  W.  Smfth  {JXct,  s,v.):  Cleopatra,  the  third  child  and  eldest  sur- 
^iwvDg  daughter  of  Ptolemy  Auletes,  [the  Fluteplayer^  was  bom  towards  the  end  of 
B.C.  69,  and  was  consequently  seventeen  at  the  death  of  her  father,  who  in  his  will 
appointed  her  heir  of  his  kingdom  in  conjunction  with  her  younger  brother,  Ptolemy, 
whom  she  was  to  marry.  The  personal  charms,  for  which  she  was  so  famed,  shewed 
themselves  in  early  youth,  as  we  are  told  by  Appian  that  she  made  an  impression  on 
the  heart  of  Antony  in  her  fifteenth  year,  when  he  was  at  Alexandria  with  Gabinius. 
Her  joint  reign  did  not  last  long,  as  Ptolemy,  or  rather  Pothinus  and  Achillas,  his 
diief  advisers,  expelled  her  from  the  throne,  about  B.c  49.  In  the  following  year 
Caesar  arrived  in  Egypt  in  pursuit  of  Pompey,  and  took  upon  himself  to  arrange  mat- 
teis  between  Qeopatra  and  her  brother.     According  to  Plutarch,  she  made  her  entry 


8  DRAMATIS  PERSON2E 

[32.  Cleopatra] 
into  Caesar's  apiartment  io  a  bale  of  cloth,  which  was  brought  by  Apollodorus,  her 
attendant,  as  a  present  to  Caesar.  However  this  may  be,  her  plan  fully  succeeded, 
and  we  find  her  replaced  on  the  throne,  much  to  the  indignation  of  her  brother  and 
the  Egyptians,  who  involved  Caesar  in  a  war  in  which  he  ran  great  personal  risk,  but 
which  ended  in  his  favour.  In  the  course  of  it,  young  Ptolemy  was  killed,  probably 
drowned  in  the  Nile,  and  Cleopatra  obtained  the  undivided  rule.  She  was,  however, 
associated  by  Caesar  with  another  brother  of  the  same  name,  and  still  quite  a  child, 
with  a  view  to  conciliate  the  Egyptians,  with  whom  she  appears  to  have  been  very 
unpopular,  and  she  was  also  nominally  married  to  him.  While  Caesar  was  in  Egypt 
Qeopatra  lived  openly  with  him,  and  would  have  detained  him  there  longer,  but  for 
the  war  with  Phamaces,  which  tore  him  from  her  arms.  She  however  joined  him  in 
Rome,  in  company  with  her  nominal  husband,  and  there  continued  the  same  open 
intercourse  with  him,  living  in  apartments  in  his  house,  much  to  the  offense  of  the 
Romans.  She  was  loaded  with  honours  and  presents  by  Caesar,  and  seems  to  have 
stayed  at  Rome  till  his  death,  B.C.  44.  She  bad  a  son  by  him  named  Caesarion,  who 
was  afterwards  put  to  death  by  Octavius.  After  the  death  of  Csesar,  she  fled  to  Egypt, 
and  in  the  troubles  which  ensued  she  took  the  side  of  the  Triumvirate,  and  assisted 
Dolabella  both  by  sea  and  land,  resisting  the  threats  of  Cassius,  who  was  preparing 
to  attack  her  when  he  was  called  away  by  the  entreaties  of  Brutus.  She  also  sailed 
in  person  with  a  considerable  fleet  to  assist  Antony  after  the  defeat  of  Dolabella,  but 
was  prevented  from  joining  him  by  a  storm  and  the  bad  state  of  her  health.  She  had 
however  done  suflicient  to  prove  her  attachment  to  Caesar* s  memory  (which  seems  to 
have  been  sincere),  and  also  to  furnish  her  with  arguments  to  use  to  Antony,  who  in 
the  end  of  the  year  41  came  into  Asia  Minor,  and  there  summoned  Cleopatra  to  attend, 
on  the  charge  of  having  failed  to  co-operate  with  the  Triumvirate  against  Caesar's 
murderers.  She  was  now  in  her  twenty-eighth  year,  and  in  the  perfection  of  matured 
beauty,  which  in  conjunction  with  her  talents  and  eloquence,  and  perhaps  the  early 
impression  which  we  have  mentioned,  completely  won  the  heart  of  Antony.  The 
first  use  Cleopatra  made  of  her  influence  was  to  procure  the  death  of  her  younger 
sister,  Arsino€,  who  had  once  set  up  a  claim  to  the  kingdom.  Her  brother,  Ptolemy, 
she  seems  to  have  made  away  with  before,  by  poison.  Her  connexion  with  Antony 
was  interrupted  for  a  short  time  by  his  marriage  with  Octavia,  but  was  renewed  on  his 
return  from  Italy,  and  again  on  his  return  from  his  Parthian  expedition,  when  she 
went  to  meet  him  in  Syria  with  money  and  provisions  for  his  army.  According  to 
Josephus,  Cleopatra  during  Antony's  expedition  went  into  Judaea,  part  of  which 
Antony  had  assigned  to  her  and  Herod  had  necessarily  ceded,  and  there  attempted 
to  win  Herod  by  her  charms,  probably  with  a  view  to  his  ruin,  but  failed,  and  was  in 
danger  of  being  put  to  death  by  him.  The  report,  however,  of  Octavia' s  having  left 
Rome  to  join  Antony,  made  Qeopatra  tremble  for  her  influence,  and  she  therefore 
exerted  all  her  powers  of  pleasing  to  endeavour  to  retain  it.  From  this  time  Antony 
appears  quite  infatuated  by  his  attachment,  and  willing  to  humour  every  caprice  of 
Cleopatra.  We  find  her  assuming  the  title  of  Isis,  and  giving  audience  in  that  dress 
to  ambassadors,  that  of  Osiris  being  adopted  by  Antony,  and  their  children  called  by 
the  title  of  the  Sun  and  the  Moon,  and  declared  heirs  of  unbounded  territories.  One 
can  hardly  wonder  that  Octavius  should  represent  Antony  to  the  Romans  as  *  bewitched 
by  that  accursed  Egyptian ' ;  and  he  was  not  slow  in  availing  himself  of  the  disgust, 
which  Antony's  conduct  occasioned,  to  make  a  determined  effort  to  crush  him.  War, 
however,  was  declared  against  Geopatra,  and  not  against  Antony,  as  a  less  invidious 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS  g 

Octavia,  Sisier  to  Caefar,  and  Wife  to  Antony.  33 


way.  Qeopatra,  indeed,  persuaded  Antony  to  retreat  to  Egypt,  but  the  attack  of 
Octavitts  frustrated  this  intention,  and  the  famous  battle  took  place  (b.c.  31),  in  the 
midst  of  which,  when  fortune  was  wavering  between  the  two  parties,  Cleopatra  gave 
a  signal  of  retreat  to  her  fleet,  and  herself  led  the  way.  Cleopatra  died  B.C.  30,  in  the 
thirty-ninth  year  of  her  age,  and  with  her  ended  the  dynasty  of  the  Ptolemies  in  Egypt. 
She  had  three  children  by  Antony :  Alexander  and  Qeopatra,  who  were  twins,  and 
Ptolemy  Philadelphus. 

33.  Octavia]  W.  Smith  (Z>iV/.  s.  v.)  :  Octavia,  the  younger  daughter  of  C. 
Octavius,  by  his  second  wife,  Atia,  and  own  sister  *  of  the  emperor,  Augustus,  was 
married  first  to  C  Marcellus,  Consul  B.C.  50,  and  subsequently  to  the  Triumvir,  M. 
Antonius.  She  lost  her  husband  towards  the  latter  end  of  B.C.  41 ;  and  as  Fulvia, 
the  wife  of  Antony,  died  about  the  same  time,  Octavius  and  Antony,  who  had  lately 
been  at  variance,  cemented  their  reconciliation  by  the  marriage  of  Octavia  to  Antony. 
This  marriage  caused  the  greatest  joy  among  all  classes,  and  especially  in  the  army, 
and  was  regarded  as  a  harbinger  of  a  lasting  peace.  Octavius  was  warmly  attached 
to  his  sister,  and  she  possessed  all  the  charms,  accomplishments  and  virtues  likely  to 
fascinate  the  affections  and  secure  a  lasting  influence  over  the  mind  of  a  husband. 
Her  beauty  was  universally  allowed  to  be  superior  to  that  of  CleopMitra,  and  her  virtue 
was  such  as  to  excite  even  admiration  in  an  age  of  growing  licentiousness  and  cor- 
ruption. Nor  at  first  did  this  union  disappoint  public  expectation.  By  the  side  of' 
Octavia,  Antony  for  a  time  forgot  Cleopatra,  and  the  misunderstandings  and  jealousies 
which  had  again  arisen  between  her  brother  and  husband,  and  which  threatened  an 
open  rupture  in  the  year  36,  were  removed  by  her  influence  and  intervention.  But 
Antony  had  by  this  time  become  tired  of  his  wife  ;  and  longed  to  rejoin  Cleopatra. 
The  war  with  the  Parthians  summoned  him  to  the  East.  Octavia  accompanied  him 
from  Italy  as  far  as  Corcyra,  but  upon  arriving  at  that  island  he  sent  her  back  to  her 
brother,  under  the  pretext  of  not  exposing  her  to  the  perils  and  hardships  of  the  war. 
On  arriving  in  Asia,  Antony  soon  forgot,  in  the  society  of  Cleopatra,  both  bis  wife  and 
the  Parthians.  Octavia,  however,  resolved  to  make  an  eflbrt  to  regain  her  husband. 
In  the  following  year,  B.C.  35,  she  set  out  from  Italy  with  reinforcements  of  men  and 
money  to  assist  Antony  in  his  war  against  Artavasdes,  king  of  Armenia ;  but  Antony 
resolved  not  to  meet  her  and  sent  her  a  message,  when  she  had  arrived  as  far  as  Athens, 
requesting  her  to  return  home.  Octavia  obeyed  ;  she  was  great-minded  enough  to 
send  him  the  money  and  troops,  and  he  mean  enough  to  accept  them.  On  her  return 
to  Rome,  Octavius  ordered  her  to  leave  her  husband's  house  and  come  and  reside  with 
him,  but  she  refused  to  do  so,  and  would  not  appear  as  one  of  the  causes  of  the  war ; 
she  remained  in  her  husband's  abode,  where  she  educated  Antony's  younger  son,  by 
Fulvia,  with  her  own  children.  But  this  noble  conduct  had  no  efiect  upon  the  hard- 
ened heart  of  Antony,  who  had  become  the  complete  slave  of  Cleopatra ;  and  when 
the  war  broke  out  in  B.C.  32,  he  sent  his  faithful  wife  a  bill  of  divorce.  After  the  death 
of  Antony  she  still  remained  true  to  the  interests  of  his  children,  notwithstanding  the 
wrongs  she  had  received  from  their  father.  For  Julius,  the  younger  son  of  Antony, 
by  Fulvia,  she  obtained  the  special  favour  of  Augustus,  and  she  even  brought  up  with 
maternal  care  his  children  by  Cleopatra.     She  died  in  B.C.  11. 

*  At  II,  ii,  139,  Shakespeare  follows  Plutarch,  who  speaks  of  Octavia  as  Caesar's 
half-sister. — Ed. 


lO  DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Charmian,  |  ^^^^  attending  on  Cleopatra. 

Iras,  J  35 

Ambajfadors  from  Antony  to  Caefar,  Captains j 

Soldiers  J  MeJJfengerSj  and  other  Attendants. 
The  Scene  lyes  infeveral  Parts  of  the 

Roman  Empire.  39 

34,  35.  Charmian,  Iras]  And  Casar  sayed  furthermore,  that  Antonuts  was  not 
Maister  of  himselfe,  but  that  Cleopatra  had  brought  him  beside  himselfe,  by  bei 
charmes  and  amarous  poysons :  aod  that  they  that  shoulde  make  warre  with  them, 
should  be  Mardian  the  Eunuch,  Photinus,  and  Iras^  a  woman  of  Cieopatraes  bed- 
chamber, that  frizeled  her  haire,  and  dressed  her  head,  and  CAarmion,  the  which 
were  those  that  ruled  all  the  affaires  of  Anionius  Empire. — Plutarch.  See 
Appendix, 

[In  the  foregoing  brief  accounts,  no  attempt  is  made  to  show  where  Shakespeare 
has  deserted  history. 

Collier  :  *  The  Tragedie  of  Anthonie  and  Cleopatra  *  occupies  twenty-nine  pages 
of  the  Folio  of  1623;  viz.,  from  p.  340  to  p.  368  inclusive,  in  the  division  of  'Trag- 
edies.' Although  at  the  beginning  it  has  Actus  Primus^  Scana  Prima^  it  is  not 
divided  into  acts  and  scenes,  nor  is  the  defect  cured  in  any  of  the  subsequent  folio 
impressions  of  1632,  1664,  and  1685.  They  are  all  without  any  list  of  characters. 
—Ed.] 


THE  TRAGEDIE  OF 

Anthonie,  and  Cleopatra. 

A6lus  Primus.    Sccena  Prima. 


Enter  Demetrius  and  Philo  : 

PhUo.  5 

y,  but  this  dotage  of  our  Grenerals 

Ore-flowes  the  meafure  :  thofe  his  goodly  eyes 

That  o're  the  Files  and  Mufters  of  the  Warre,  8 

1.  TragedU\  Tragedy  Y{,  4.  Enter...]  Enter Thyreus and  Dolla- 

2.  Anikcnie,']  Anthony,  F,.    Anthony        bella ;  sent  from  Caesar.  Gar. 
FjF^.     Antony  Rowe  ct  scq.  5.  Philo.]  Thy.  Gar. 

3.  Scaena]  Scena  F^F^.  6-22.  Marked  as  mnemonic,  Warb. 
[Alexandria  in  Egypt.  Rowe.    The  6.  Generals']  Generall  F,.     General 

Palace  at  Alexandria  in  Egypt.  Theob.         ^^^t  Rowe,  +  .      General*  s  Cap.  et  seq. 
Cleopatra's  Palace  at  Alexandria.  Steer.  7.   Ore,,. eyes]  Two  lines,  F^. 

I.  Coleridge  (p.  315) :  Shakespeare  can  be  complimented  only  by  comparison 
with  himself :  all  other  eulogies  are  either  heterogeneous,  as  when  they  are  in  refer- 
ence to  Spenser  or  Milton  ;  or  they  are  flat  truisms,  as  when  he  is  gravely  preferred 
to  Comeille,  Racine,  or  even  his  own  immediate  successors,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
Massinger  and  the  rest  The  highest  praise,  or  rather  form  of  praise,  of  this  play, 
which  I  can  offer  in  my  own  mind,  is  the  doubt  which  the  perusal  always  occasions 
in  me,  whether  the  *  Antony  and  Cleopatra  *  is  not,  in  all  exhibitions  of  a  giant 
power  in  its  strength  and  vigour  of  maturity,  a  formidable  rival  of 'Macbeth,*  'Lear,* 
*  Hamlet/  and  •  Othello.'  Felidter  audax  is  the  motto  for  its  style  comparatively 
with  that  of  Shakespeare's  other  works,  even  as  it  is  the  general  motto  of  all  his 
works  compared  with  those  of  other  poets.  Be  it  remembered,  too,  that  this  happy 
valiancy  of  style  is  but  the  representative  and  result  of  all  the  material  excellencies 
so  expressed.  This  play  should  be  perused  in  mental  contrast  with  *  Romeo  and 
Jnliet ;  * — as  the  love  of  passion  and  appetite  opposed  to  the  love  of  affection  and 
instinct  But  the  art  displayed  in  the  character  of  Cleopatra  is  profound  ;  in  this, 
e^>ecially,  that  the  sense  of  criminality  in  her  passion  is  lessened  by  our  insight  into 
its  depth  and  energy,  at  the  very  moment  that  we  cannot  but  perceive  that  the  passion 
itself  springs  out  of  the  habitual  craving  of  a  licentious  nature,  and  that  it  is  supported 
and  reinforced  by  voluntary  stimulus  and  sought-for  associations,  instead  of  blossom- 
ing oat  of  spontaneous  emotion.     Of  all  Shakespeare*s  historical  plays,  *  Antony  and 

zx 


12  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i.  sc.  L 

[i.  The  Tragedie,  etc.] 
Cleopatra '  is  by  far  the  most  wooderfiil.  There  is  not  one  in  which  he  has  followed 
history  so  minutely,  and  yet  there  are  few  in  which  he  impresses  the  notion  of  angelic 
strength  so  much ; — perhaps  none  in  which  he  impresses  it  more  strongly.  This  is 
greatly  owing  to  the  manner  in  which  the  fiery  force  is  sustained  throughout,  and 
to  the  numerous  momentary  flashes  of  nature  counteracting  the  historic  abstraction. 
As  a  wonderful  specimen  of  the  way  in  which  Shakespeare  lives  up  to  the  very 
end  of  this  play,  read  the  last  part  of  the  concluding  scene.  And  if  you  would 
feel  the  judgement  as  well  as  the  genius  of  Shakespeare  in  your  heart's  core, 
compare  this  astonishing  drama  with  Dryden's  '  All  for  Love.'  A.  W.  Schlbgel 
(iii,  173) :  Antony  and  Cleopatra  may  be,  in  some  measure,  considered  as  a  con- 
tinuation of  Julius  Casar:  the  two  principal  characters,  Antony  and  Augustus, 
are  in  both  pieces  equally  sustained.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  is  a  play  of  great 
compass,  its  progress  is  less  simple  than  in  Julius  Casar,  The  fullness  and  variety 
of  the  political  and  warlike  events,  which  ultimately  brought  about  the  union  of 
the  threefold  division  of  the  Roman  empire  under  one  master,  were  perhaps  too 
vast  to  be  combined  for  a  distinct  survey  in  one  dramatic  picture.  This  it  is  wherein 
precisely  lies  the  great  difficulty  of  the  historical  drama,  it  must  be  at  the  same  time  a 
condensed  epitome  of  history  and  a  vivid  expansion  of  it ;  this  difficulty  Shakespeare 
has  for  the  most  part  successfully  overcome.  Here,  however,  many  things,  which  occur 
in  the  background,  are  intimated  only  in  such  a  way  as  to  presuppose  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  history,  and  the  comprehension  of  a  work  of  art  should  never  depend 
on  any  extrinsic  information.  Many  persons  of  historical  importance  appear  and  dis- 
appear in  passing ;  the  preparatory  and  co-operating  circumstances  are  not  adequately 
massed  so  as  not  to  distract  our  view.  The  principal  personages  emerge,  neverthe- 
less, in  outline  and  colour  most  forcibly,  and  arrest  the  imagination.  In  Antony  we 
observe  a  combination  of  great  qualities,  weaknesses,  and  vices ;  powerful  ambition 
and  magnanimous  emotions  ;  we  see  his  degradation  in  luxurious  enjoyment  and  his 
noble  shame  at  his  own  lapses, — inspirited  to  follow  noble  resolutions  which  are 
in  turn  shattered  by  the  seductions  of  a  woman.  It  is  Hercules  in  the  chains  of 
Omphale,  transferred  from  the  fabulous  heroic  age  to  authentic  history,  and  clad  in 
the  Roman  toga.  The  seductive  arts  of  Cleopatra  are  displayed  without  a  veil ;  she 
is  also  an  ambiguous  creature  composed  of  royal  pride,  feminine  vanity,  luxury,  incon- 
stancy,  and  genuine  attachment.  Although  the  reciprocal  passion  of  herself  and 
Antony  is  morally  worthless,  it  still  excites  our  sympathy  as  an  insurmountable  fas- 
cination ;  they  seem  formed  for  each  other,  inasmuch  as  Qeopatra  stands  quite  as 
much  alone  for  her  seductive  charm  as  Antony  for  his  splendid  deeds.  As  they  die 
for  each  other,  we  forgive  them  for  having  lived  for  each  other.  The  open-hearted 
and  lavish  character  of  Antony  is  excellently  contrasted  with  the  heartless  littleness 
of  Octavius  Caesar,  whom  Shakespeare  completely  saw  through,  without  allowing 
himself  to  be  led  astray  by  the  fortune  and  fame  of  Augustus.  HAZLirr  (p.  102) : 
Shakespeare's  genius  has  spread  over  the  whole  play  a  richness  like  the  overflowing 
of  the  Nile. 

6.  Nay,  but,  etc.]  Shakespeare's  art  in  beginning  his  plays  in  the  midst  of  a  dia- 
logue is  so  skilful  that  there  is  a  certain  feeling  of  loss,  as  though  we  had  been  de- 
prived of  some  pleasing  conversation  ;  and  that  if  we  had  come  only  a  minute  sooner, 
we  should  have  heard  something  entertaining.  Thus  Othello  begins : — *  Tush  !  never 
tell  me.'  *  You  do  not  meet  a  man  but  frowns.' — Cymbeline,  •  My  lord,  I'll  tell 
you.' — Henry  V,  etc. — Ed. 


ACT  I.  sc.  L]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  1 3 

Haue  glow'd  like  plated  Mars  : 

Now  bend,  now  tume  10 

The  Office  and  Deuotion  of  their  view 

Vpon  a  Tawny  Front,     His  Captaines  heart, 

Which  in  the  fcuffles  of  great  Fights  hath  burft 

The  Buckles  on  his  breft,  reneages  all  temper,  14 

9.  Hke\  like  a  Jones  ap.  Hal.  14.  reneages\    F,Fj.      reneaguis    or 

9,  10.  Hau€^„tume\  One  line,  Rowe  reniegues  Coleridge,  Knt,  Hal.    reneags 

et  seq.  Wh.    reneyes  Boswell.   reneges  F^  et  cet. 

9.  Mars  .*]   F,,   Sing.      Mars,   F^F^,  rejects  Wray  ap.  Cam. 
Rowe  et  cet     stars  Gould.  temper y\  temper ;  Theob.  +  ,  Cap. 

12.  Capiaines'\  CaptaifCs  Rowe.  Varr.  Ran.  Mai.  Steev.  Varr.  Knt. 

14.  breft^'\  breft  F^. 

6.  Generals]  Malons  calls  attention  to  this  needless  genitive,  which,  he  says, 
was  <  the  common  phraseology  of  Shakespeare's  time.'  It  is  not  obsolete  at  this 
day,  among  writers  who  are  as  careless  as  were  Shakespeare's  printers.  The  latter 
ignored  apostrophes  in  genitives.  It  would  be  rash  to  say  they  never  used  them,  but 
I  doabt  that  a  single  one  will  be  found  in  the  present  play.  So  trivial  a  matter  hardly 
needs  verifying  on  the  part  of  the  Ed. 

9.  Mars]  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  been  guided  only  by  the  rhythm  in  the  use 
of  this  genitive.     Elsewhere  he  uses  Marses  and  Mars  his, — Ed. 

12.  Tawny]  Rolfe:  Tennyson  refers  to  Qeopatra  in  A  Dream  of  Fair  fVomen, 
as  a  '  queen,  with  swarthy  cheeks/  and  some  critics  have  supposed  that  he  forgot  she 
was^f  pure  Greek  blood,  being  the  daughter  of  Ptolemy  Auletes  and  a  lady  of  Pontus; 
but  in  a  letter  to  me  he  called  attention  to  *  the  polished  argent  of  her  breast '  in  an- 
other stanza  of  the  same  poem.  He  says  that  he  described  her,  as  Shakespeare  does 
in  I,  V,  33,  as  *  with  Phoebus  amorous  pinches  black,'  not  as  a  half-African. 

12.  Captaines]  Anthony  has  just  been  called  a  'General.'  I  suppose  that  that 
title  was  here  avoided  lest  the  ear  might  confound  it  with  tlie  adjective,  '  his  general 
heart.'  Moreover,  although  a  General  is  higher  in  rank  than  a  Captain,  has  not  the 
latter  a  more  martial  sound  here,  implying  hand  to  hand  fighting  ?  A  General  would 
hardly  mingle  in  the  '  scuffles  of  great  fights.' — Ed. 

14.  reneages]  Craigie  {N,  £,  D.  s.  v.  Renegue) :  An  adaptation  of  mediaeval 
Latin,  reneg  are,  formed  on  re-KK'  +  negare,  to  deny.  [Under  f  2,  where  it  is  used 
intransitively  or  absolutely,  Craigie  quotes,  Lear,  II,  ii,  73,  « Renegue,  affirm,  and 
turn  their  halcyon  beaks,'  etc.,  where  the  Qq  read  *reneag.'  See  note  a/  /oc.  in 
this  edition,  where,  as  an  additional  proof  that  the  g  was  pronounced  hard  a  quota- 
tion from  Sylvester's  I>u  Bartas  is  given,  *All  Europe  nigh  (all  sorts  of  Rights 
reneg'd)  Against  the  Truth  and  Thee,  un-holy  Leagued.'  It  is  still  common  in  this 
country  (noted  by  Craigie,  under  4.  a)  among  whist-players,  in  the  sense  of  revoke, 
and  sometimes  pronounced  renig.  It  affords  another  instance  of  the  survival  in  this 
coantry  of  words  which  are  archaic  in  England. — Eo. 

14.  temper]  This  may  be  possibly  explained  as  another  of  the  many  instances 
where  *  temp>er  *  means  temperament,  constitution.  Schmidt  {Lex.  s.  v.)  gives  it,  how- 
ever, a  separate  section,  as  meaning,  *■  wonted  disposition,  freedom  from  excess  or 
extravagance,  equanimity,'  to  which  the  only  parallel  that  he  finds  is  Lear's  '  Keep 


14  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i.  sc  L 

And  is  become  the  Bellowes  and  the  Fan  15 

To  coole  a  Gypfies  Luft. 

Flaurijh.    Enter  Anthony^  Cleopatra  her  Ladies  ^  the 
Traineywith  Eunuchs  fanning  her. 
Looke  where  they  come : 

Take  but  good  note,  and  you  (hall  fee  in  him  20 

(The  triple  Pillar  of  the  world)  transformed 

16-19.    To    cooU..Jhey  come  :'\   One  17.  Anthony,]  Anthony,  and  F^F^. 

line,  Rowe  et  seq.  17,  18.  her...Traine,  with]  her  ladiet 

17,  18.  After  line  19,  Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  in  the  train,  Pope,    with  their  Trains, 

Varr.  Ran.  Mai.  Stecv.  Varr.  Knt,  Hal.  Knt. 

After  line  22,  Dyce,  Sta.  17.  Ladies,]  Ladies;  Ff. 

17.  Flourifh.]  Om.  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.  20.  in  him\  him  F  F^,  Rowe. 

Flourish    within    (after     Lufi)    Dyce.  21.  ( The ...  world)]       The ...  worU^ 

Flourish  without  (after  come:)  Sta.  Rowe.     The. ..world  Yi^  Pope  et  cet. 

me  in  temper ;  I  would  not  be  mad.'  I,  v,  51.  May  there  not  be  here,  where  fighting 
is  the  theme,  a  suggestion  of  the  hardening  of  steel  such  as  Othello  refers  to  when 
he  speaks  of '  a  Sword  of  Spain,  the  ice-brook's  temper '  ? — Ed. 

16.  To  coole]  Johnson  :  Something  seems  to  be  wanting.  The  bellows  and  fan, 
being  commonly  used  for  contrary  purposes,  were  probably  opposed  by  the  author, 
who  might  perhaps  have  written,  *  To  kindle  and  to  cool.'  M.  Mason:  Johnson's 
amendment  is  unnecessary.  The  bellows  and  the  fan  have  the  same  effects.  When 
applied  to  the  fire,  they  increase  it ;  but  when  applied  to  any  warm  substance,  they 
cool  it.  Malonk  :  The  text  is  undoubtedly  right.  The  following  lines  in  Spenser's 
Faerie  Queene  at  once  support  and  explain  it,  *  But  to  delay  the  heat,  least  by  mis- 
chaunce  It  might  breake  out,  and  set  the  whole  on  fire,  There  added  was  by  goodly 
ordinaunce,  An  huge  great  paire  of  bellowes,  which  did  styre  Continually,  and  cool- 
ing breath  inspyre.'— II,  Cant,  ix,  267.  Staunton  {Athen.  12  Apr.  1873) :  Some- 
thing appears  to  have  been  lost ;  but  Johnson's  remedy  stretches  out  the  line  beyond 
all  measure.  We  might  better  read,  *  To  heat  and  cool,' — citing  in  confirmation,  *  To 
glow  the  delicate  cheeks  which  they  did  cool.^ — II,  ii,  239. 

16.  Gypsies  Lust]  Johnson :  <  Gipsy'  is  here  used  both  in  the  original  meaning 
for  an  j^gyptian^  and  in  its  accidental  sense  for  a  bad  woman,  Irving's  Ed.  :  No 
metaphor,  as  all  who  know  anything  of  the  gipsies  know  well,  could  be  less  exact 
than  that  which  takes  their  women  as  a  symbol  of  lust.  They  might  much  more 
correctly  stand  as  a  symbol  of  chastity. 

17.  Flourish]  Bradley  (A^.  E.  D.  s.  v.)  :  7.  Mttsic  a.  A  fanfare  (of  horns,  trum- 
pets, etc.),  especially  to  announce  the  approach  of  a  person  of  distinction. 

21.  triple  Pillar]  Warbihiton  :  *  Triple'  is  here  used  improperly  for  third  ox  one 
of  three.  One  of  the  Triumvirs^  one  of  the  three  masters  of  the  world.  Steevens  : 
Compare,  *  The  earth  and  all  the  inhabitants  thereof  are  dissolved  :  I  bear  up  the  pil- 
3ars  of  it'  —Psalm  75,  3.  [*  Triple '  in  the  sense  of  third  is  used  again  where  Helena 
tells  the  king  that  her  father  gave  her  many  receipts,  <  chiefly  one,  which  .  .  .  He  bade 
me  store  up,  as  a  triple  eye,  Safer  than  mine  own  two,  more  dear.' — AW s  Well,  II,  i. 


ACT  I.  sc.  i.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  \  5 

Into  a  Strumpets  Foole.     Behold  and  fee.  22 

Cleo.     If  it  be  Loue  indeed,  tell  me  how  much. 
^«/.There's  beggery  in  the  loue  that  can  be  reckoned  24 

23.  much.'\  muchf  F^F^,  Rowe,  +  . 

171.  In  Notts  and  Queries^  I,  iii,  498,  A.  E.  Brae  contended  that  in  both  instances 
Shakespeare  osed  the  word  as  the  Latins,  or  at  least  Ovid,  used  tripUxy  and  herein 
lay  A  proof  of  Shakespeare's  learning.  But  when  Ovid  represents  i^IbU^  76)  the 
Fates  as  spinning  (only  Lacbesis  spun)  triplUi  poUice^  it  is  to  be  feared  that  he 
is  in  the  same  condemnation  with  Shakespeare.  Walker  (Crit.  i,  62)  devotes 
a  section  to  instances  of  an  *  inaccurate  use  of  words  in  Shakespeare,  some  of  them 
owing  to  his  imperfect  scholarship  (imperfect,  I  say,  for  he  was  not  an  ig^norant  man 
even  in  this  point),  and  others  common  to  him  with  his  contemporaries.'  Some  of 
these  instances  are  *  eternal  *  for  infemaly  *  imperious '  for  imperial^  *  ceremonies  *  for 
9mens^  •  temporary  *  for  temporal^  the  present  *  triple '  for  thirds  and  again  in  this  play 
'competitor'  for  colleague  (I,  iv,  5;  V,  i,  52),  'important'  for  importunate^  etc. 
The  effect  of  this  list  is  cumulative,  and  possibly  it  is  therefore  wisest  to  acknowledge 
at  once  that  Shakespeare  has  here  blundered.  At  the  same  time,  might  we  not  admit 
that  after  Shakespeare  has  used  a  word  twice  in  an  intelligible  though  illogical  sense, 
the  word  might  as  well  be  adopted  into  the  language  for  daily  use  ?  It  would 
have  a  paternity  which  many  a  perfectly  legitimate  word  might  be  content  to  own. 
-Ed.] 

22.  Strumpets  Foole]  Douce  (ii,  73)  :  Many  ancient  prints  conduce  to  show 
that  women  of  this  description  were  attended  by  buffoons ;  and  there  is  good  reason 
for  supposing,  partly  from  the  same  kind  of  evidence,  that  in  their  houses  such 
characters  were  maintained  to  amuse  the  guests  by  their  broad  jokes  and  seasonable 
iDtics.  [Warburton,  in  the  belief  that  the  metaphor,  introduced  by  *  Pillar,'  needed 
an  antithesis,  asserted  that  we  should  here,  for  <  Foole,'  read  j/W,  because  <  women 
of  this  description '  sometimes  sat  *  in  the  laps  of  their  lovers.'  Strangely  enough. 
Walker  {Crit.  i,  63)  had  'no  doubt'  that  Warburton  was  right,  and  believes  < that 
"pillar"  requires  it'  To  Walker's  editor,  Lettsom,  the  emendation  'appears 
▼ery  doubtful.'  Grey  (ii,  190)  suggested  a  change,  which  he  *  imagines  would  be 
as  proper,'  namely :  strumpet"* 5  tool.  It  was  reserved  to  Coleridge  to  put  the 
question  at  rest  at  once  and  for  ever.  *  Warburton' s  conjecture  is  ingenious,'  he  says 
(p.  317),  'and  would  be  a  probable  reading,  if  the  scene  opening  had  discovered 
Antony  with  Qeopatra  on  his  lap.  But,  represented  as  he  is  walking  and  jesting 
with  her,  "  fool "  must  be  the  word.  Warburton's  objection  is  shallow,  and  implies 
that  he  confounded  the  dramatic  with  the  epic  style.  The  **  pillar"  of  a  state  is  so 
common  a  metaphor  as  to  have  lost  the  image  in  the  thing  meant  to  be  imaged.' — 
Ed.] 

23.  Cleo.  If  it  be,  etc.]  Hazutt  (p.  97)  :  The  character  of  Cleopatra  is  a  master- 
piece. What  an  extreme  contrast  it  affords  to  Imogen  !  One  would  think  it  almost 
impossible  for  the  same  person  to  have  drawn  both.  She  is  voluptuous,  ostentatious, 
conscious,  boastful  of  her  charms,  haughty,  tyrannical,  fickle.  The  luxurious  pomp 
and  gorgeous  extravagance  of  the  Eg3rptian  queen  are  displayed  in  all  their  force  and 
lustre,  as  well  as  the  irregular  grandeur  of  the  soul  of  Mark  Antony.  Take  only  the 
first  four  lines  that  they  speak  as  an  example  of  the  regal  style  of  love-making. 

24.  Ant.  There's  beggery,  etc.]    Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  150) :   The  character  of 


l6  THE   TRAGEDJE  OF  [act  I,  sc  L 

Cleo.     He  fet  a  bourne  how  farre  to  be  belou'd.  25 

AfU.    Then  mud  thou  needes  finde  out  new  Heauen^ 
new  Earth.  27 

Mark  Antony,  as  delineated  by  Shakespeare,  reminds  me  of  the  Famese  Hercules. 
There  is  an  ostentatious  display  of  power,  an  exaggerated  grandeur,  a  colossal  effect 
in  the  whole  conception,  sustained  throughout  in  the  pomp  of  the  language,  which 
seems,  as  it  flows  along,  to  resound  with  the  clang  of  arms  and  the  music  of  the 
revel.  The  coarseness  and  violence  of  the  historic  portrait  are  a  little  kept  down ; 
but  every  word  which  Antony  utters  is  characteristic  of  the  arrogant  but  magnani- 
mous Roman,  who  *  with  half  the  bulk  o'  the  world  played  as  he  pleased,'  and  was 
himself  the  sport  of  a  host  of  mad  (and  bad)  passions,  and  the  ^ve  of  a  woman. 
[Everyone  will  recall  Romeo's  impassioned, '  They  are  but  beggars  that  can  count 
their  worth '  (II,  vi,  32),  and  Claudio's,  « I  were  but  little  happy,  if  I  could  say  how 
much '  (Much  Ado,  II,  i,  292).  Steevens  gives,  from  Theobald,  without  acknowl- 
edgement, a  quotation  from  Ovid  {Meta.  xiii,  824)  which  is  possibly  parallel.  It  is 
where  Polyphemus  is  boasting  to  Galatea  of  his  wealth  in  flocks  and  herds ; — *  All 
this  flock  is  my  own ;  many  others  are  roaming  the  valleys  \  Many  are  hid  in  the 
forest,  and  many  are  stabled  in  caverns.  Should  3rou  ask  how  many  there  are,  I 
should  not  be  able  to  tell  you.  To  number  the  tale  of  his  flock  is  ever  the  mark  of 
a  poor  man.'  <  Hoc  pecus  omne  meum  est :  multae  quoque  vallibus  errant ;  Multas 
silva  tegit :  multae  stabulantur  in  antris :  Nee,  si  forte  roges,  possim  tibi  dicere, 
quot  sint.  Pauperis  est  numerare  pecus.'  Golding's  translation  (p.  170  verso)^  more 
vigorous  than  mine,  is  as  follows: — *This  Cattell  heere  is  all  mjme  owne.  And 
many  mo  besyde  Doo  eyther  in  the  bottoms  feede,  or  in  the  woodes  them  hyde.  And 
many  standing  at  tbeyr  stall es  doo  in  my  Caue  abyde.  The  number  of  them  (if  a 
man  should  ask)  I  cannot  showe.  Tush  beggars  of  theyr  Cattell  vse  the  number  for 
too  knowe.'  Steevens  quotes  also  from  an  Epigram,  wholly  apposite, where  Martial 
(Bk.  vi,  No.  34)  begs  for  kisses,  and  in  answer  to  the  question  *  how  many  ?  *  answers, 
*  bid  me  number  ocean's  waves,  or  the  shells  scattered  on  the  .^ean  shore,  or  the 
number  of  bees  wandering  on  the  Cecropian  mount,  or  the  number  of  voices  and 
applauding  hands  when  the  people  catch  sight  of  Caesar's  face  in  the  crowded  theatre. 
I  do  not  want  as  many  as  the  clever  Catullus  begged  from  Lesbia,  that  is,  any  definite 
number,  however  vast,  because  'pauca  cupit,  qui  numerare  potest' — Ed.] 

25.  He,  etc.]  Hartley  Coleridge  (ii,  183) :  If  Antony  owed  to  Cleopatra  the 
loss  of  empire,  he  is  indebted  to  her  for  less  hateful  renown  than  would  else  have 
clung  to  him.  Shakespeare  and  Dryden  make  the  Philippics  forgotten,  and  the 
murderer  of  Cicero  is  lost  in  the  lover  of  Cleopatra. 

25.  bourne]  Murray  {N.E.D.):  Eariy  modem  English  borne,  apparently  equiv- 
alent to  Old  Fr.  bodne,  bone,  boune.  In  English  in  Lord  Bemers,  and  in  Shakespeare 
(seven  times),  then  apparendy  not  till  the  1 8th  century  ;  the  modem  use  being  due 
to  Shakespeare,  and  in  a  large  number  of  cases  directly  alluding  to  the  passage  in 
HamUt.  2.  A  bound,  a  limit  [as  in  the  present  line].  3.  In  Shakespeare's  famous 
passage,  Hamlet,  III,  i,  79,  *  Borne'  (Qq),  probably  meant  the  '  frontier  or  pale' 
of  a  country ;  but  has  been  associated  contextually  with  the  goal  of  a  traveller's 
course. 

26.  Then  must  thou,  etc.]  Johnson  :  Thou  must  set  the  boundary  of  my  love 
mt  a  greater  distance  than  the  present  visible  universe  affords. 


ACT  I,  sc  i.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  17 

Enter  a  MeJJenger.  28 

Mef.     Newes(  my  good  Lord  )from  Rome. 
Ant.     Grates  me,  the  fumme.  30 

Cleo.     Nay  heare  them  Anthony. 
Fuluia  perchance  is  angry  :  Or  who  knowes,  32 

28.  Enter...]  Enter  an  Attendant.  F^.  JRate  me  the  sum  ^owt.  It  grates 
Cap.  me.     Tell  the  sum  Pope,  Theob.  Han. 

29.  Mef.]  Att.  Cap.  Warb.     '  T  grates  me  : — the  sum  Cap. 
Rome.'\  Rome —  Ktly.  '  Grates  me  : — The  sum  Sta.    Grates  me^ 

ja   Grates  me,  the  fumme"]  Rate  me.         The  sum  Johns,  et  cet.  (subs.) 
the  fumme  F,Fj.     Rate  me,  the  fumm  31.  them]  i/Pope,+  . 

30.  Grates  me,  the  summe]  Johnson  :  Be  brief,  sum  thy  business  in  a  few  words. 
A.  £.  Thisslton  (p.  7)  believes  that  here  is  an  instance  where  a  comma  indicates 
merdy  a  grammatical  inversion  of  the  sentence  and  that  the  phrase  is,  in  fact,  '  The 
sum  grates  me.*  The  meaning  is  the  same,  whatever  the  punctuation,  namely,  that 
the  sam,  and  not  the  particulars,  of  the  news  is  to  be  delivered.  If  there  be,  how- 
ever, an  inversion,  as  Mr  Thiselton  contends,  it  is  used  for  dramatic  effect,  and,  it 
seems  to  me,  that  this  effect  will  be  heightened  in  proportion  as  the  punctuation  is 
emphatic,  even  to  the  conversion,  as  in  the  majority  of  modem  texts,  of  the  comma 
into  a  full  stop.  Time  should  be  given  to  Anthony  at  least  to  stamp  his  foot  with 
vexation.  He  is  too  impatient  to  care  for  granmiar,  and  any  addition,  such  as  <  It '  or 
*  T  *  weakens  the  rasping  harshness  of  '  Grates,'  which  is  a  relief  and  a  satisfaction 
to  his  vexed  soul. — Ed. 

31.  them]  Malone  interprets  this  as  referring  to  the  'newes,*  and  he  may  be 
right ;  as  he  says,  '  news  *  may  be  plural.  But  Cleopatra,  in  lines  42  and  45,  speaks 
of  the  *  messengers,'  and,  in  line  62,  of  the  'Ambassadors.'  Although  only  *  a^ 
messenger  enters,  it  is  not  impossible  that  others  were  seen  approaching ;  or,  what  is 
more  likely,  by  exaggerating  the  number,  Cleopatra  magnifies  the  importance  of  the 
news,  and  veils  her  jealousy  of  any  control  over  Anthony  greater  than  her  own,  in 
stinging  taunts  at  his  subordination  to  a  shrill-tongued  woman  and  a  beardless  boy. — 
Ed. 

31.  Anthony]  This  spelling  is  as  invariable  in  this  play  as  the  spelling  <  Antony ' 
is  in  Julius  Ccesar. 

32.  Fuluia]  Leonhard  Schmitz  (Smith's  Diet,)  :  Fulvia  was  first  married  to 
P.  Clodius,  by  whom  she  had  a  daughter,  Claudia,  afterwards  the  wife  of  Caesar 
Octavius.  When  Clodius  was  murdered,  she  married  C.  Scribonius  Curio ;  and  after 
his  fall  in  Africa,  she  lived  for  some  years  as  a  widow,  until  about  b.c.  44  she  mar- 
ried M.  Antony,  by  whom  she  became  the  mother  of  two  sons.  Up  to  the  time  of 
her  marrying  Antony,  she  had  been  a  woman  of  most  dissolute  conduct,  but  hence- 
forth she  clung  to  Antony  with  the  most  passionate  attachment,  and  her  only  ambition 
was  to  see  her  husband  occupy  the  first  place  in  the  republic,  at  whatever  cost  that 
position  might  be  purchased.  When  Antony  was  declared  a  public  enemy,  she 
addressed  the  most  humble  entreaties  to  the  Senate,  praying  that  they  might  alter 
their  resolution.  Her  brutal  conduct  during  the  fearful  proscriptions  of  B.C.  43  is 
well  known ;  she  gazed  with  delight  upon  the  head  of  Cicero,  the  victim  of  het 
husband.  In  B.C.  40,  while  Antony  was  revelling  with  Geopatra  in  all  the  luxuries 
of  the  East,  Fulvia,  stimulated  partly  by  jealousy  and  the  desire  of  drawing  Antony 


l8  THB  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  i,  sc  L 

If  the  Icarfe-bearded  Ca/dtr  hane  not  fient  33 

His  powTcfall  Mandate  toyoiLDo  tlitSyOr  this; 
Take  in  that  Kingdoaie,aiid  Infinanchiie  that:  35 

Perform'ty  or  elie  we  damne  thee. 

Ant.     How^my  Loue? 

Geo.     Perchance?  Nay,  and  moft  Uke : 
You  mud  not  (lay  heere  longer,  your  difiniflioa 
Is  come  from  QE/ar^  therefore  heare  it  AniJumy.  40 

34^36.  jrauJ>c..JM€£,'\  jom.     "  £h...  Perckmut !  Dyce. 

tkUr  Tbeob.  Johns,  et  scq.  (sob*.)  38.  A>7»-JEfc .-]  (Nmy, Mulm^Hie,) 

38.  PtrcMofur/]  Perchance ^  Rowe,+,  Theoh.  Han.  Warh. 

llaL   Steer.  Var.     Percluuut^-'  CoU.  i^uir.]  &lr,  Rowe. 


back  to  Italy,  and  partly  by  her  hostility  towards  Odarnis,  resolved  upon  raising  a 
oommotion  in  Italy.  She  induced  L.  Antonins,  her  hn^iand^s  brother,  to  come  for- 
ward as  the  protector  of  those  who  were  oppressed  and  reduced  to  poverty  by  the  colo- 
nies of  Octari  as.  He  took  his  post  at  Praencste  whither  he  was  followed  by  Folyia. 
She  afterwards  followed  him  to  Perusia,  and  endeaToured  to  rouse  the  inhabitants  of 
the  north  of  Italy  to  assist  him,  while  he  was  besieged  at  Perusia  by  Octavius.  When 
Perusia  fell  into  the  hands  of  Octarius,  by  the  treachery  of  L.  Antonius,  Fulvia  was 
permitted  to  escape,  and  went  to  Brundusium,  where  she  embarked  for  Greece.  Her 
husband,  who  had  in  the  meantime  been  informed  of  the  war  of  Perusia  and  its  result, 
was  on  his  way  to  Italy.  He  met  Fulvia  at  Athens,  and  censored  her  severely  for 
having  caused  the  disturbance.  It  is  said  that,  from  grief  at  his  rough  treatment,  she 
was  taken  ill,  and  in  this  state  he  left  her  at  Sicyon  while  he  went  to  Brundusium. 
Her  feelings  were  so  deeply  wounded  by  her  husband's  conduct,  that  she  took  no 
care  of  herself,  and  soon  after  died  at  Sicyon,  B.c  40.  The  news  of  her  death  came 
very  opportunely  for  the  Triumvirs,  who  now  formed  a  reconciliation,  which  was 
cemented  by  Antony  marrying  the  noble-minded  Octavia. 

33.  icarcc -bearded]  Caesar  was  at  this  time  twenty -three  years  old. 

35.  Take  in]  Reed  :  That  is,  subdue,  conquer.  Haluwell  (SeUct,  NoUs,  7)  : 
In  1610  a  tract  appeared  which  was  entitled,—*  Newes  out  of  Clcave-land,  being 
the  true  relation  of  the  taking  in  of  the  towne  and  castle  of  Gulicke  in  Germanie.* 
[See  « cut  the  Ionian  Sea,  And  take  in  Troine.*— Ill,  vii,  28.  Merely  the  antithesis 
involved  in  •  Infranchisc '  would  of  itself  supply  the  meaning  of  *take  in.*— Ed.] 

36.  damne]  Collier  (ed.  ii)':  The  MS  alters  'damne'  to  doom;  and  although 
'damne'  certainly  sounds  rather  coarsely  in  the  mouth  of  Cleopatra,  and  would 
have  done  io  even  in  the  time  of  Shakespeare,  yet  we  make  no  change,  recollecting 
that  the  heroine,  in  other  places,  sometimes  errs  on  the  score  of  delicacy,  and  that 
*  damn '  is  the  more  expressive  word,  which  the  poet,  on  that  very  account,  may  have 
preferred.  Still  *damn'  and  tioom  would  be  spelt  with  the  same  letters  in  short- 
hand, and  the  transcriber  may  have  misread  his  note. 

38.  Perchance?]  The  interrogation  is  to  be  preferred,  I  think.  Qeopatra  is 
questioning  the  propriety  of  her  *  perchance  *  in  line  32. — Ed. 

39.  mutt]  The  emphatic  word. 

40.  therefore]  Even  in  this  word,  there  is  a  taunt.— Ed. 


ACT  I.  sc  L]  ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 

Where's  Ftduias  Proceffe?  {Ccefars  I  would  fay)  both  ? 
Call  in  the  Meffengers  :  As  I  am  Egypts  Queene, 
Thou  bluflieft  Anthony y  and  that  blood  of  thine 
Is  Casfars  homager  :  elfe  fo  thy  cheeke  payes  (hame, 
When  (hrill-tonguM  Fuluia  fcolds.     The  Meffengers. 
Ant.     Let  Rome  in  Tyber  melt,  and  the  wide  Arch 
Of  the  raing'd  Empire  fall  2  Heere  is  my  fpace, 
Kingdomes  are  clay  :  Our  dungie  earth  alike 
Feeds  Bead  as  Man  ;  the  Nobleneffe  of  life 
Is  to  do  thus  :  when  fuch  a  mutuall  paire, 


19 
41 


45 


SO 


41.  (Caefars  /  would  /ay)'\  Ff. 
C^sar'Sf  I  Vfould  say^  Rowc.  Casar's? 
Pd  say  Pope,  Theob.  Warb.  Otsar's  ? 
I  would  say  Han.  Casar's^  Pd  say — 
JcJins.  Otsar's  I  would  say  ?  Cap.  et 
cet 

42.  /  am\  Fm  Pope,  + ,  Dycc  ii,  iii. 

43.  bloody  bloud  F^F^. 

44.  cheeke  payes'\    cheeks  payes   F . 


cheeks  pay  F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Han. 
Warb. 

45.  Meffengers^  Messengers — Theob. 
Warb.  Johns. 

47.  rain^d'\  F,.  raign'dY^^,  rais'd 
Rowe,  Pope,Theob.  Han. Warb.  reigned 
Blumhoff.     ranged  Johns  et  seq. 

/pace"]  span  Gould. 

48.  dungie"]  dungy  Ff. 


41.  Processe]  The  writ  or  judicial  means  by  which  a  defendant  is  brought  into 
court,  to  answer  the  charge  preferred  against  him.  So  called  because  it  proceeds  or 
issues  forth  from  the  court. — Bouvier's  Law,  Diet. 

47.  raing'd]  Warburton  :  Taken  from  the  Roman  custom  of  raising  triumphal 
ardies  to  perpetuate  their  victories. — [Hereupon  Warburton  cannot  refrain  from  a 
stroke  of  smug  self-praise  by  exclaiming,  *  extremely  noble  !  * — Ed.] — Johnson:  I 
am  in  doubt  whether  Shakespeare  had  any  idea  but  of  a  fabric  standing  on  pillars. 
It  is  not  easy  to  guess  how  Dr  Warburton  missed  this  opportunity  of  inserting  a 
French  word,  by  reading  deranged.  Which,  if  deranged  were  an  English  word, 
would  be  preferable  both  to  raised  and  ran^d, — [This  conjecture  was  not  re- 
peated in  the  Var.  of  1 7  73,  where  Johnson  was  associated  as  an  editor  with 
Steepens.  It  is,  therefore,  to  be  assumed  that  it  was  charitably  withdrawn. — Ed.] 
— Capelx  (i,  26)  :  That  is,  orderly  ranged ;  whose  parts  are  now  entire  and  dis- 
tinct, like  a  number  of  well-built  edifices. —  [Capell,  followed  by  Malone,  quotes  as 
parallel  *  bury  all,  which  yet  distinctly  ranges,  in  heaps  and  piles  of  ruins.' — Cor.  Ill, 
i,  ao6.  But  Schmidt  (^Lex,)  differentiates  both  this  use  in  Cor.  and  also,  <  whatso- 
ercr  comes  athwart  his  affection  ranges  evenly  with  mine,*  in  Much  Ado,  II,  ii,  7, 
quoted  by  Steevens,  from  the  use  of  the  word  in  the  present  line, — and,  I  think, 
properly.  Capell' s  interpretation  seems  to  be  just.  Compare  *  whose  several  ranges,' 
III,  xiii,  7,  that  is,  whose  several  ranks  of  war. — Ed.] 

48.  Kingdomes  are  clay :  Our  dungie  earth]  Have  we  not  here  the  same  con- 
temptuous scorn  for  the  merely  physical,  animal  life  that  lies  in  Hamlet's  words 
where  he  speaks  of  being  *  spacious  in  the  possession  of  dirt  *  ?     See  V,  ii,  8. — Ed. 

5a  Is  to  do  thus:]  I  can  recall  but  one  solitary  passage  in  all  Shakespeare 
where  there  is  the  need,  within  the  scene,  of  a  stage-direction,  namely :  in  Hamlet's 
interview  with  Ophelia  when  Polonius  and  the  King  are  concealed  behind  the  arras, 
— and  there  the  lack  is  indeed  deplorable.     But  elsewhere  the  context,  together 


20  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i.  sc.  i. 

And  fuch  a  twaine  can  doo't,  in  which  I  binde  5 1 

One  paine  of  punifliment,  the  world  to  weete 
We  (land  vp  Peereleffe. 

Cleo.     Excellent  faUhood : 
Why  did  he  marry  Ftduiay  and  not  loue  her?  55 

52.  One]  On  Ff.  54.  [Aside.  Johns. 

with  that  wherewith  Northcote  said  he  mixed  his  colours :  '  brains,'  will  supply  an 
actor  with  the  appropriate  *■  business.'  In  the  present  line,  after '  thus,'  Pope  inserted 
the  stage-direction  '  embracing^*  and  has  been  followed  by  every  editor,  I  think,  from 
that  day  to  this.  I  do  not  forget  how  much  more  childlike  than  at  present  were  the 
men  and  women  of  aforetime,  whether  in  the  days  of  the  Caesars  or  in  the  dajrs  of 
Elizabeth,  in  the  outward  expression  of  their  emotion,  by  embracing,  by  kissing,  or  by 
the  enviable  gift,  at  command,  of  profuse  and  prolonged  tears.  But  even  with  this  in 
mind,  is  it  to  be  considered  likely  that  Anthony  would  here  publicly  kiss,  embrace, 
or  even  touch  Cleopatra  ?  She  was  wrangling  with  him, — teasing  him  almost  past 
endurance,  determined  to  obtain  from  him  some  assurance  that,  whatever  the  mes- 
sage from  Rome,  he  would  not  leave  her;  and  is  it  in  character  that  she  should 
tamely  submit  to  be  'embraced?'  and  then,  when  released  from  Anthony's  arms, 
where  she  had  lain  like  an  unresisting  dove,  renew  the  wrangling  which  this 
'  embrace '  had  interrupted  ?  All  wrangling  thereafter  would  be  absolutely  stingless. 
They  were  not  standing  side  by  side.  Quarrels  are  not  so  conducted.  They  were 
facing  each  other,  and,  I  imagine,  by  some  such  gesture  as  an  obeisance  and  a  sweep- 
ing wave  of  both  hands  toward  her, — a  not  uncommon  mode  of  illustrating  '  thus,' 
— ^he  showed  that  his  whole  existence  with  her,  day  by  day  and  hour  by  hour,  was 
the  true  nobleness  of  life,  compared  to  which  kingdoms  are  clay.  In  speaking  above 
of  stage-directions,  I  refer  to  situations  where  a  key  is  urgently  needed.  There  are, 
in  the  Ff  and  Qq,  many  insertions,  such  as  *They  all  start. ^ — Hick.  Ill:  II,  i,  79, 
etc.,  which  are  good,  but  not  essential ;  experienced  actors  do  not  need  to  be  thus 
instructed. — Ed. 

51.  And  such  a  twaine]  Staunton  {AihauEum^  12  April,  1873)  :  Here  the 
words,  '  such  a  mutual  pair  And  such  a  twain '  are  tautologous  and  feeble.  Besides 
which,  they  fail  to  account  for  the  Queen's  rejoinder,  *  Excellent  falsehood!'  I 
cannot  but  think  Shakespeare  wrote,  <  And  such  a  constant  twain,'  or  *  such  a  faith- 
ful twain.'  Some  epithet  implying  an  indefeasible  affection  seems  imperatively 
called  for. — [The  addition  of  a  disyllabic  mars  the  metre,  but  this  would  be  venial, 
if  the  need  were  beyond  question.  Does  not,  however,  any  epithet  weaken  <  such  ?' 
which,  in  its  full  force,  may  imply  constant^  faithftd^  loyal^  steadfast^  and  all  other 
appropriate  epithets? — Ed.] 

52.  to  weete]  Skeat  (N,  dx*  Qu.  VII,  ii,  385)  :  *  We  do  you  to  wit '  is  a  per- 
fectly well-known  phrase  ;  literally,  it  means  we  cause  you  to  know ;  practically,  it 
means  we  request  you  to  take  notice.  Antony  says,  *  We  bind  the  world  to  weet,' 
I.  f,  we  compel  the  world  to  take  notice.  *  Weet '  is  a  late  spelling  of  wiV,  verb,  to 
know. 

54.  falshood]  Deighton  :  The  abstract  for  the  concrete,  as  in  Kin^  John,  III, 
ivi  36,  *0  fair  affliction,  peace!';  Tempest^  V,  i,  218,  *Now,  blasphemy,  That 
swear' St  grace  overboard.' 


ACT  I,  sc.  L]  ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  2 1 

lie  feeme  the  Foole  I  am  not.    Anthony  will  be  himfelfe.  56 

Ant.     But  ftirr'd  by  Cleopatra. 
Now  for  the  loue  of  Loue^and  her  foft  houres,  58 

56.  /!>... Anthony]  One  line,  Pope  et  57.  B%U'\  Buts  i.  e.  But  is  Anon.  MS 

seq.  ap.  Hal. 

Jlel  /Cap.  Cleopatra.]    dtopatra^    Rowe  ii, 

Anthony... ^iOT/>(^]    As    Aside,  Pope.     CleoptUra:   Han.     Cleopatra, — 

Ktly.  Cap. 

kimfelfe.'\  him/elf,  F,F,.  58.  her\  his  Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  Var.  Ran. 

56.  He  seeme  the  Foole  I  am  not,  etc.]  Heyss  :  The  world  will  deem  me  a 
fool  because  I  give  myself  up  to  one  who  is  faithless  ;  but  I  am  not  a  fool  because  I 
know  how  faithless  he  is.  Antony  will  be  himself,  if  he  again  becomes  faithless  to 
me. 

57.  But  stirr'd]  Upton  (p.  261)  continues  this  to  Qeopatra :  *  Antony  Will  be 
himself,  but  stirr'd  by  Cleopatra,*  and  marks  it  as  Aside.  Heath  (p.  448)  thinks 
this  emendation  of  Upton  <  can  admit  of  no  dispute.'  Capell  (i,  26) :  Cleopatra 
diecks  herself  for  asking  so  idle  a  question  as  that  about  Fulvia,  knowing  as  she 
(forsooth)  did,  that  Antony  would  be  Antony  ;  and  is  there  stopped  by  a  reply  of 
most  exquisite  delicacy, — *  But,  stirr'd  by  Qeopatra,* — who  can  say  what  he  will 
be  ?  for  that  is  left  to  be  indicated  by  the  tone  in  which  the  words  are  delivered,  and 
the  action  and  look  that  accompanies  them.  Johnson  :  <  But,*  in  this  passage,  seems 
to  have  the  old  Saxon  signification  of  withouty  unless,  except,  Antony,  says  the 
Queen,  will  recollect  his  thoughts.  Unless  kept,  he  replies,  in  conunotipn  by  Cleo- 
patra, [Emphatically,  this  is  to  me  'obscurum  per  obscurius.* — Ed.]  M.  Mason 
seems  as  wide  of  the  mark  as  Dr  Johnson.  He  observes  that  '  by  *<  Antony  will  be 
himself,**  Cleopatra  means  to  say,  *<that  Antony  will  act  like  the  joint  sovereign  of 
the  world,  and  follow  his  own  inclinations,  without  regard  to  the  mandates  of  Cxsar, 
or  the  anger  of  Fulvia.**  To  which  he  replies,  "  If  but  stirr'd  by  Qeopatra ;"  that 
is,  *«if  moved  to  it  in  the  slightest  degree  by  her."  *  Singer  'believes  Mason*s 
exfdanation  to  be  nearly  correct;  Antony  will  be  himself  without  regard  to  Csesar 
or  Fulvia.  Add  if  mooed  to  it  by  Qeopatra.*  Nares  (j.  v.  But)  :  Antony's  reply 
may  either  mean,  •  but  Qeopatra  will  have  the  merit  of  moving  him  to  be  so ; '  or 
'moved  oniy  by  Qeopatra.*  Knight,  after  giving  the  explanations  of  Johnson  and 
M.  Mason,  justly  says,  « Surely  the  meaning  is  more  obvious ; '  he  then  gives  what 
seems  to  me  to  be  the  true  interpreUtion  :  *  Antony  accepts  Qeopatra*s  belief  of  what 
he  will  be.  He  will  be  himself ;  but  still  under  the  influence  of  Qeopatra  ;  and  to 
show  what  that  influence  is,  he  continues,  "Now  for  the  love  of  Love,"  etc.* 
Abbott  quotes  this  passage  under  {  128,  and  gives  the  meaning  of  *  but'  as  equiv- 
alent to  *not  except  stirr'd,*  ^ only  if  stirr*d,'— a  meaning  which  is  to  me  more 
than  doubtful.  The  whole  diflficulty  arises,  I  think,  from  failing  to  apprehend  the 
meaning  of  Qeopatra' s  last  words.  <  1*11  seem  the  fool  I  am  not,'  she  says,  and  then 
adds  contemptuously,  *  Antony  will  be  the  fool  he  really  is.'  He  parries  the  sUb, 
and  tries,  unsuccessfully,  to  propitiate  her  by  acknowledging  that  he  will  be  that 
same  ibol,  but  stirr'd  to  his  very  soul  by  love  for  Qeopatra.  Then  follows  the 
exquisite  music  of  the  next  four  lines,  to  which  there  came  in  reply  only  the  exasper- 
ating parxot-cry,  '  Hear  the  ambassadors  ! ' — Ed. 

58.  Loae]  Malone  :  That  is,  the  queen  of  love.    Compare  <  Let  Love,  being 


22  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  i,  sc  L 

Ix^t^M  not  confound  the  time  with  Conference  harih; 

I'hcre'tf  not  a  minute  of  our  liues  fliould  (Iretch  60 

Without  fome  pleafure  now.     What  fport  to  night? 

Cleo.     Heare  the  Ambafladors. 

Anl,     Fye  wrangling  Queene  : 
Whom  euery  thing  becomes,  to  chide,  to  laugh, 
To  wccpe  :  who  euery  pafTion  fully  ftriues  65 

To  make  it  felfe  (in  Thce)faire,  and  admir'd. 
No  Meflenger  but  thine,  and  all  alone,  to  night  67 

61.  pleafure  now,      What^  pleasure.  67.  Mejfenger  but  thitu^  Yi,  Rowc, 

Naw^  what  Johns.  Pope.     Messenger^   but  thine ;  Thcob. 

65.  who  euery]  wkofe  every  Yiy  Rowe  Han.  Warb.  Cap.  Ran.  Sia.  Glo.  Cam. 
et  icq.  Messenger  but  thine — Johns.  Messenger  ; 

fully]  fitly  Coll.  MS.  but  thine.  Ktly.     Messenger;  but  thine 

66.  (ill    Thee)  ]   Ff.     in  thee  Rowc        Mai.  ct  cet. 

et  seq.  67,  68.  to  night... and  note]  One  line, 

Rowc  ct  seq. 

light,  be  drowned  if  she  sink.' — Com.  of  Err.  Ill,  i,  52.  [Dyce  apparently  agrees 
with  Malonc  ;  he  refers  to  the  same  line  in  the  Com.  of  Err,  But  Capell  was  not 
of  this  opinion;  he  followed  Rowe  in  substituting  *•  his  soft  hours'  for  'her  soft 
hours.*  I  cannot  believe  that  there  lies  herein  the  faintest  reference  to  the  queen  of 
love  or  to  her  boy.  The  expression  *  love  of  love '  means,  I  think,  the  love  of  love 
in  the  abstract,  the  very  soul  of  love  ;  just  as  Hamlet,  by  <  heart  of  heart,*  means 
the  innermost  shrine  of  his  heart,  '  his  heart*s  core.*  If  its  had  been  in  common 
use,  Shakespeare  might  possibly  have  said  *  for  the  love  of  love  and  its  soft  hours,' — 
but  then  the  exquisite  feminine  touch  of  the  *  her '  would  have  been  lost  Tennyson 
uses  this  very  phrase,  with  others  exactly  parallel,  where  he  describes  « The  Poet'  as 
*  Dower* d  with  the  hate  of  hale,  the  scorn  of  scorn.  The  love  of  love.' — Ed.] 

59.  confound]  M alone  :  That  is,  consume.  So  in  Cor.  I,  vi,  17,  *  How  couldst 
thou  in  a  mile  confound  an  hour.'  [Both  here  and  in  I,  iv,  31,  *  confound  the  time* 
has,  I  think,  a  meaning  wider  than  merely  to  consume  ;  it  means  to  lose^  to  waste^  to 
ruin. — En.] 

61.  now]  Warburton  :  We  should  read  new;  a  sentiment  much  in  character 
of  the  luxurious  and  debauched  Antony.  Thiselton  (p.  8)  proposes  the  same 
emendation,  for  the  reason  that  Plutarch  represents  Cleopatra  as  ever  devising  *  sun- 
dry new  delights'  for  Antony.  Capell  (p.  28)  :  ♦Now'  is  here  a  word  of  great 
force,  for  the  reasonableness  of  what  is  then  spoken  is  all  wrapped  up  in  it :  by  *  now ' 
is  insinnated  the  speaker's  own  advanced  age,  and  that  of  the  lady  addressed  10; 
whidi,  in  the  opinion  of  persons  like  them,  makes  it  proper  that  no  time  be  lost  in 
the  parsoing  of  what  they  call— pleasures.  Johnson  adopted  an  original  punc- 
taation,  without  comment. 

65.  faUy]  CoLUER  (ed.  ii) :  This  may  be  understood  as  entirely,  and  successfully 


67.  No  Messenger  hot  thine,  and]  That  the  punctnatioQ  here  is  impoitant  b 
Baniiest  by  the  changes  recorded  in  the  Text.  Xotes.     There  can  be  hardly  a  qnes- 
tkat  tbe  p-ntT*!^^  of  the  Folios  is  wrong.    Qeopatra  had  neither  received 


ACT  I,  sc.  i.]  ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  23 

Wee'l  wander  through  the  ftreets,and  note  68 

The  qualities  of  people.     Come  my  Queene, 
Laft  night  you  did  defire  it.     Speake  not  to  vs.  70 

Exeunt  with  the  Traine. 

Dem.     Is  Ccefar  with  Anthonius  priz'd  fo  flight  ? 

Philo.     Sir  fometimes  when  he  is  not  Antfionyy 
He  comes  too  (hort  of  that  great  Property 
Which  ftill  fhould  go  with  Anthony.  75 

Dem.  I  am  full  forry,  that  hee  approues  the  common 
Lyar,who  thus  fpeakes  of  him  at  Rome  ;  but  I  will  hope 
of  better  deeds  to  morrow.     Reft  you  happy.       Exeunt  78 

70.  [As  they  are  going  out  Enobarbus        Knt,  Sing.  Ktly,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

polls  Antony's  robe.  Kemble.  76-78.  that  hee,., happy, "^Thj^tWnt&t 

71.  the]  their  Rowe  et  seq.  ending    Fame  ...  hope  ...  happy.     Pope, 
72-75.  Om.  and  II,  ii,  218-277  »o-        Theob.  Han.  Warb.     Three  lines,  end- 

serted.  Gar.  ing  who.,. hope, „happy  !  Cap.  et  seq. 

T2.  flight'^  light  Grty/u,  190.  77.  Lyar,„of  him'\  liar  Fame,  fVho 

76,  I,.. forry']  Pm sorry  "Po^yThtoh,  speaks  him   thus   Pope,   Theob.    Han. 

Han.  Warb.     I'm/uU  sorty  Sieey.yar,  Warb. 

nor  sent  a  messenger.     Malone's  punctuation  gives,  I  think,  the  true  interpretation. 
In  Anthony's  complete  surrender  and  acknowledgement  that  he  belongs  to  Cleo- 
patra,  the  latter's  victory  is  gained  and  her  wrangling  ceases. — Ed. 
68.  Wee'l  wander,  etc]  See  North's  Plutarch,  in  the  Appendix, 

72.  Cjesar  with  Anthonius]  Abbott  (§  193) :  <  With '  is,  perhaps,  here  used 
for  as  regards,  in  relation  to,  as  in  our  modem,  <  this  has  not  much  weight  with  me,' 
though,  perhaps,  *  with '  may  here  mean  by.  At  all  events  the  passage  illustrates 
the  connexion  between  'with'  and  'by.'  Compare,  'His  taints  and  honours, 
waged  equal  with  him.* — V,  i,  39. 

76.  approues]  Murray  {N.  E,  D,)  i  f  2.  To  attest  (a  thing)  with  some  au- 
thority, to  corroborate,  to  affirm.  Compare,  '  What  damned  error,  but  some  sober 
blow  Will  bless  it  and  approve  it  with  a  text.' — Mer,  of  Ven,  III,  ii,  79.  M ALONE : 
That  he  proves  the  common  liar,  fame,  in  his  case  to  be  a  true  reporter. 

77,  78.  hope  of  better  deeds]  Abbott  ({  177) :  'Of  is  sometimes  used  to 
separate  an  object  from  the  direct  action  of  a  verb  :  (r)  when  the  verb  is  not  always 
or  often  used  as  a  transitive  verb,  as  '  hope '  or  '  like.'    [As  in  the  present  instance.] 


24  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i.  sc.  ii, 

[Scene  //.] 

Enter  EnobarbuSy  LampriuSy  a  Southfayety  RanniuSy  LuciUi- 
uSy  Chamtiatty  IraSy  Mardian  the  Eunuchy 

and  Alexas. 

Char.     L.  AlexaSy  fweet  AlexaSy  moft  any  thing  AlexaSy 
almoft   moft  abfolute  AlexaSy  where's  the   Soothfayer  5 

that  you  prais'd  fo  to'th'Queene  ?     Oh  that  I  knewe  this 
Husband,  which  you  fay,  muft  change  his  Homes  with  7 

Scene  II.  Pope  et  seq.  5.  wheres\  whtres  F,. 

The  Same.     Another  Room.  Cap.  Sootk/ayer]  Southfayer  F  . 

1-3.  Enler...]  Enter  Enobarbus,Char-  6.  /o  tt^tfC]  to  th'  F^F^,  Rowe,  P6pe, 

mian,  Iras,  Alexas,  and  a  soothsayer.  Han. 

Rowe,+.  Enter  Alexas,  Giarmian,  Iras,  Oh'\  Oh!  Y » 

a  Soothsayer  and  others.  Cap.  et  seq.  6-8.  Oh...  Garlands]  Two  Unes,  end- 

(s»»bs. )  mg/ay, ...  Garlands,  Walker  ( Crit,  i,  i8). 

4-8.  Five  lines,  ending  sweet  Alexas  7.  change]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Johns. 

.„  almost  „,  soothsayer  ,„  say. ..garlands.  Var.    Steev.    Var. '03,   '13,    Knt,    Sta. 

Cap.  charge  Theob.  et  cct. 

4.  Z.]  Om.  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  change... tm/h]   change  for  horns 
Cap.     Lord  Johns,  et  seq.  his  Han.      change  his  garlcmds  with 

5.  almoJT]  nay^  almost  Cap.  horns  Schmidt  conj. 


Scene  ii]  Dsuus  {Sh.  Jahrbuch^  V,  267) :  The  frivolous  conversation  of  Cleo- 
patra's court,  expressive  of  the  thoughtless  life  there,  is  carried  on  in  prose.  The  sooth- 
sayer, in  expounding  the  value  of  his  prophecies,  is  the  only  one  who  uses  blank 
verse.  On  the  appearance  of  the  impassioned  Cleopatra  language  assumes  a  higher 
strain  and  blank  verse  is  then  used  by  the  others.  In  the  dialogue,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  Scene,  between  Antony  and  his  trusty  Enobarbus,  the  latter  as  the 
representative  of  the  more  elevated  humour  of  the  play,  speaks  in  prose,  in  which 
his  satirical  remarks  on  Cleopatra  and  Fulvia  are  certainly  appropriate.  Antony 
himself  barely  req)onds  to  this  mood  and  style  of  his  friend. 

I.  Lmmpriut,  .  .  .  Rannius,  Lucillius]  Steevens  :  It  is  not  impossible,  indeed, 
that  <  Lamprius,  Rannius,  Lucillius,'  might  have  been  speakers  in  this  scene  as  it 
was  first  written  down  by  Shakespeare,  who  afterwards  thought  proper  to  omit  their 
speeches,  though  at  the  same  time  he  forgot  to  erase  their  names  as  originally 
announced  at  their  collective  entrance.  [In  Much  Ado^  there  is  a  character,  Inno- 
gen,  who  is  set  down  in  the  Dramatis  Personae,  and  enumerated  among  those  who 
enter  at  the  beginning  of  the  Second  Act,  and  yet  she  speaks  no  word  throughout 
the  play.     See  Appendix ^  Wyndham,  p.  487. — Ed.] 

4.  sweet  Alexas]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  reads  *most  sweet  Alexas,'  in  accordance 
with  a  marginal  note  in  his  Second  Folio  ;  *•  by  what  follows,'  he  says,  *  *<  most "  is 
clearly  required,  and  we  may  be  sure  that  it  had,  in  some  way,  escaped  in  the  press.' 
[It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  addition,  most^  is  an  improvement ;  not  absolutely 
necessary,  but  still  an  improvement.  The  next  words  *most  anything  Alexas' 
seem  almost  to  demand  it  To  improve  Shakespeare,  however,  is  no  more  justifiable 
than  to  deface  him. — Ed.] 

7.  which  you  say,  must  change  his  Homes  with  QarUnds]  Theobald  :  We 


ACT  I,  sc.  ii]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  25 

[7.  which  you  say,  must  change  his  Homes  with  Garlands.] 
must  restore,  '  must  charge  his  horns,'  that  is,  must  be  an  honourable  cuckold,  must 
have  his  horns  hung  with  garlands.  Charge  and  '  change '  frequently  usurp  each 
other's  place  in  our  Author's  old  editions.  [Theobald  hereupon  adds,  with  his  charac- 
teristic scrupulous  honesty, — an  honesty  Warburton  knew  not, — *I  ought  to  take 
notice,  that  Mr  Warburton  likewise  started  this  emendation.'  In  Warburton' s  own 
edition,  no  such  scruples  harassed  him.  He  gave  the  emendation  as  wholly  his 
own.]  Upton  (p.  304)  quotes  this  passage  as  an  instance  where  Shakespeare  uses 
'change'  in  its  secondary  sense  of  new  dress  and  adorn,  Capell  (i,  27,  adopting 
charge)  :  That  is,  dress  them  up  *■  with  garlands,'  set  them  forth  gayly ;  a  wanton 
thought,  that  suits  perfectly  the  person  it  comes  from,  and  is  expressed  in  words 
equally  wanton.  [Theobald's]  very  slight  change  is  necessary.  Johnson  :  I  am  in 
doabt  whether  to  <  change '  is  not  merely  to  dress^  or  to  dress  with  changes  of  gar- 
lands. M ALONE :  I  think  the  reading,  originally  introduced  by  Theobald  \charge'\^ 
is  the  true  one,  because  it  affords  a  clear  sense ;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  the  read- 
ing of  the  old  copy  affords  none  :  for  supposing  change  with  to  mean  exchange  for^ 
what  idea  is  conveyed  by  this  passage  ?  and  what  other  sense  can  these  words  bear  ? 
The  substantive  change  being  formerly  used  to  signify  variety  (as  change  of  clothes, 
of  honours,  etc.)  proves  nothing :  change  of  clothes  or  linen  necessarily  imports  more 
than  one  ;  but  the  thing  sought  for  is  the  meaning  of  the  verb  to  '  change,'  and  no 
proof  is  produced  to  show  that  it  signified  to  dress ;  or  that  it  had  any  other  meaning 
than  to  exchange,  Charmian  is  talking  of  her  future  husband,  who  certainly  could 
Dot  change  his  horns,  at  present^  for  garlands,  or  any  thing  else,  having  not  yet 
obtained  them  ;  nor  could  she  mean,  that  when  he  did  get  them,  he  should  '  change' 
or  part  with  them,  for  garlands :  but  he  might  charge  his  horns,  when  he  should 
marry  Charmian,  with  garlands  :  for  having  once  got  them,  she  intended,  we  may 
suppose,  that  he  should  wear  them  contentedly  for  life.  The  same  mistake  happened 
in  Cor,  V,  iii,  152,  where  the  same  correction  was  made  by  Warburton,  and  adopted 
bj  all  subsequent  editors :  '  And  yet  to  charge  thy  sulphur  with  a  bolt.'  Steevens  : 
'To  change  his  horns  with  (i.  e.  for)  garlands'  signifies,  to  be  a  triumphant  cuck- 
old ;  a  cuckold  who  will  consider  his  state  as  an  honourable  one.  We  are  not  to 
look  for  serious  argument  in  such  a  <  skipping  dialogue '  as  that  before  us.  Knight 
stands  loyally  by  the  Fu-st  Folio,  and  interprets  *  change '  by  *  vary— give  a  different 
appearance  to.''  STAUNTON  follows  Knight,  and  suggests  that  *■  change  '  '  may  mean 
to  vary  or  garnish.  Charge  is  certainly  very  plausible.'  W.  W[illiams]  {^Parth- 
enon^ 17  May,  1862)  :  It  seems  to  me  that  when  Warburton  offered  an  explanation 
of  Shakespeare's  meaning,  he  also  well-nigh  restored,  unconsciously,  the  very  words 
of  the  dramatist  He  says  the  horns  of  Charmian' s  husband  must  be  *■  hung  about' 
with  garlands.  Now  hang  was  anciently  spelt  hange,  and,  although  this  orthography 
was  djring  out  at  the  date  of  this  tragedy,  the  omission  or  insertion  of  the  final  e 
depended  pretty  much  on  the  caprice  of  the  compositor.  It  can  scarcely  then  be 
deemed  unreasonable  to  conclude  that  the  play-house  copy  from  which  this  tragedy 
was  probably  printed  would  have  shown  Shakespeare's  words  to  have  been  *  must 
hange  his  Horns  with  Garlands.'  .  .  .  The  insertion  of  a  superfluous  initial  letter 
was  equally  likely  as  a  source  of  error  .  .  .  We  find  in  the  old  copies  of  this  play,  *  '/is 
well,'  where  Shakespeare  must  have  written  *  is  well,'  and  *  jtow  me  after'  for  *  tow 
me  after.'  Staunton  (Athenceum^  12  April,  1873)  •  'Change'  is  unquestionably  a 
misprint  for  chain — of  old  spelt  chayne.  The  allusion  is  to  the  sacrificial  ox,  whose 
horns  were  wreathed  with  flowers.     [It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Staunton  did  not  know 


26  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  u. 

Garlands.  g 

Alex.     Soothfayer. 

Sooth.     Your  will  ?  lO 

Char.     Is  this  the  Man  ?  Is't  you  fir  that  know  things  ? 

Sooth.     In  Natures  infinite  booke  of  Secrecie,  a  little  I 
can  read. 

Alex.     Shew  him  your  hand. 

Enob.     Bring  in  the  Banket  quickly  :  Wine  enough,  15 

CUopatrds  health  to  drinke. 

Char.     Good  fir,  giue  me  good  Fortune. 

Sooth.     I  make  not,  but  forefee. 

Char.     Pray  then,  forefee  me  one. 

Sooth.     You  fhall  be  yet  farre  fairer  then  you  are.  20 

Char.     He  meanes  in  flefh. 

Iras.     No,  you  fhall  paint  when  you  are  old. 

Char.     Wrinkles  forbid. 

Alex.    Vex  not  his  prefcience,  be  attentiue.  24 

9.  Sootkfayer.'\  Soothsayer ^ —  Thcob.  16.   [to  some  within.  Cap. 

Warb.  Johns.  Cap.  17.   Good,,.fne'\  Separate  line,  Han. 

11.  tkings\  aU  things  Lloyd  {N.  <5r*  18.  /]  Mcuiam,  /Han. 
Qu,  VII,  xi,  82).  20-29.  Om,  Gar. 

12.  In,,, secrecie^  One  line,  Theob.  et  20.    Ycu..,yet'\  Separate  line,  Han. 
seq.  21.  fle/h'\  face  Gould. 

14.  [Enter  Enobarbos.  Cap.  et  seq.  22.  you  are"]  Om.  Han. 

15.  Banhet']  Banquet  F^F^.  24.  prefcience']  patience  F^F^,  Rowe. 

that  he  was  herein  anticipated  by  Zachary  Jackson  ;  else,  rather  than  be  seen  in  such 
company,  he  would  have  withheld  his  hand.  Inasmuch  as  two  editors,  as  eminently 
respectable  as  Knight  and  Staunton,  have  decided  that  '  change  *  is  mtelligible,  the 
obscurity  cannot  be  so  desperate  as  to  demand  the  substitution  of  another  word,  nor  is 
there  a  sufficient  reason  to  disregard  the  wholesome  rule  that  the  more  difficult  read- 
ing is  to  be  preferred.  We  must  remember  that  the  thought,  whatever  may  be  the 
words,  is  not  that  of  Charmian,  but  of  Alexas,  who  has  evidently  taunted  the  giddy 
girls  with  indulging  in  frivolity  to  its  extrcmest  limit, — even  to  the  unparalleled  limit 
of  indifferently  changing  the  symbols  of  disgrace  with  the  chaplets  of  marriage.  I 
cannot  see  any  reason  for  adopting  Theobald's  emendation,  which,  moreover,  seems 
to  make  the  husband  an  active  agent  in  loading  his  horns  with  flowere, — a  task  which 
is  not  generally  supposed  to  fall  to  his  share. — Ed.] 

15.  Enob.  Bring  in  the  Banket,  etc.]  Wilhelm  Koenig  (Sh.  Jhrb,  x,  381) 
calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  no  one  pays  any  heed  either  to  the  entrance  or  to  the 
command  of  Enobarbus,  and  that  we  hear  nothing  further  from  him  for  more  than 
thirty  lines, — until  he  says  that  it  will  be  his  fortune  to  go  drunk  to  bed.  Koenig 
suggests,  therefore,  that  the  entrance  of  Enobarbus  be  transposed  to  follow  Charmian*s 
exclamation,  *  Wrinkles  forbid,'  line  23,  and  that  Alexas's  command,  *Vex  not  his 
prescience,'  etc.  is  addressed  to  him. 


ACT  I,  sc.  iL]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  27 

Char.     Hu(h.  25 

Sooth.     You  Ihall  be  more  belouing,  then  beloued. 

Char.     I  had  rather  heate  my  Liuer  with  drinking. 

Alex.     Nay,  heare  him. 

Char.     Good  now  fome  excellent  Fortune  :   Let  mee 
be  married  to  three  Kings  in  a  forenoone,  and  Widdow         •  30 
them  all  :  Let  me  haue  a  Childe  at  fifty,  to  whom  Herode 
of  lewry  may  do  Homage.    Finde  me  to  marrie  me  with  32 

25.  [to  Iras.  Cap.  29.     Good  now"}  Good  now^  F^. 

27.  Tvi/A,']  with  much  Han.  32.  me  t6\  me,  to  Pope,  + . 

27.  my  Liner]  M.  Mason  :  The  liver  was  considered  as  the  seat  of  desire.  In 
answer  to  the  Soothsayer,  who  tells  her  she  shall  be  very  loving,  she  says,  'she  had 
lather  heat  her  liver  by  drinking,  if  it  was  to  be  heated.* 

29-33.  Let  mee  be  married  .  .  .  0<5tauiu8  Caesar]  Th.  Zielinski  {^Philologus, 
p.  19) :  Shakespeare  imagined  Charmion  as  younger  ihan  her  mistress ;  the  age  of 
fifty,  then,  would  bring  her  to  the  birth  of  Christ.  Is  it  clear  who  that  child  is  '  to 
vhom  Herode  of  lewry  may  do  homage  *  ?  In  Matthew,  ii,  8,  Herod  himself  says 
'Go  and  search  diligently  for  the  young  child ;  and  when  ye  have  found  him,  bring 
me  word  again,  that  I  may  come  and  worship  him  also.'  And  to  whom  does  he  say 
this  ?  To  the  <  Holy  Three  Kings.'  Are  not  these  the  same  that  are  included  in 
the  list  of  Charmion*8  wishes  ?  The  fancy  deserves  a  Mystery : — wife  to  the  Holy 
Three  Kings,  the  mother  of  God,  and,  withal.  Empress  of  Rome.  [It  is  by  no 
means  easy  to  disprove  this  interpretation,  which  at  first  decidedly  shocks  us.  It  is 
unavailing  to  appeal  to  the  text  of  the  Scriptures,  where,  in  the  Bishop's  Bible  of 
1568, — the  Version  used  by  Shakespeare, — the  Magi  are  termed,  not  King^  but  *  Wise 
men  *  ;  these  Wise  men  had  been  called  '  Kings '  centuries  before  Shakespeare  was 
bom,  and  as  such  had  been  familiar  characters  in  Christmas  carols  throughout 
England,  and,  possibly,  are  so,  to  this  day.  It  is  also  possible  that  any  allusion 
whatever  to  'Three  Kings'  would  at  once  have  suggested  to  Shakespeare* s  audience 
the  '  three  wise  men.'  Furthermore,  the  *  Three  Kings '  must  here  be  considered  as 
a  unit  or  as  a  single  group ;  Charmian  was  to  be  married  to  them  all  at  once  or  in  one 
forenoon.  This  play  opens  in  B.C.  40  and  extends  to  B.c.  32  ;  if  Charmian  be  now 
eighteen  or  twenty,  she  will  be  fifty  in  the  jrear  when  Christ  was  bom.  The  refer- 
ences to  Herod  and  the  verse  in  Matthew  are  a  little  staggering.  I  do  not  like  this 
interpretation  ;  it  more  than  grates  me.  It  imparts  to  Charmian' s  words  an  air  of 
frivolous  irreverence,  which  is  to  me  un -Shakespearian.  But  there  is  never  anything 
uttered  at  random  by  any  of  Shakespeare's  characters,  and  the  chances  are  many 
against  this  wish  of  Charmian's  being  spoken  at  haphazard  and  tallying  at  the  same 
time  so  exactly  with  dates.  Whenever  an  allusion  is  thrown  out,  we  must  catch  it 
of  ourselves ;  Shakespeare  will  not  point  it  out  to  us.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  there 
is  many  an  allusion  in  his  plays,  less  pointed  than  this,  which  critics  have  accepted 
and  approved. — Ed.] 

31,  32.  Herode  of  Jewry]  Steevens  :  Herod  paid  homage  to  the  Romans,  to 
procure  the  grant  of  the  kingdom  of  Judea  :  I  believe  there  is  an  allusion  here  to  the 
theatrical  character  of  this  monarch,  and  to  a  proverbial  expression  founded  on  it 
Heiod  was  always  one  of  the  personages  in  the  Mysteries  of  our  early  stage,  on  which 


28  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  i.  sc  ii. 

Oilauius  Cce/ary  and  companion  me  with  my  Miftris.  33 

Sooth.     You  (hall  out-liue  the  Lady  whom  you  ferue. 
Char.     Oh  excellent,  I  loue  long  life  better  then  Figs.  35 

Sooth.     You  haue  feene  and  proued  a  fairer  former  for- 
tune, then  that  which  is  to  approach. 

Char.    Then  belike  my  Children  (hall  haue  no  names : 
Prythee  how  many  Boyes  and  Wenches  muft  I  haue. 

Sooth.     If  euery  of  your  wifties  had  a  wombe,  &  fore-  40 

tell  euery  wifli,  a  Million. 

33.  marrie  me  witk\  marry  me^  with  39~44-  Om.  Gar. 

Han.  40,  41.  fore-tell'\   F,F,.    fore-Ul  F^. 

35.  excellent,']  excellent !  Thtoh.  y^r^/^/ Rowe,  Johns. Var.  Rann.  foretM 

yj.  tAen,,,appro€uh']    Separate    line.  Pope,    /ertil  or  fertile  Theoh,  et  cet. 

Cap.  ct  seq.  ^...Milium']  Ff,  Johns.    One 

38,  39.  Prose  Cap.  et  seq.  line,  Rowe  et  cet 

he  was  constantly  represented  as  a  fierce,  haughty,  blustering  tyrant,  so  that '  Herod 
of  Jewry '  became  a  common  proverb,  expressive  of  turbulence  and  rage.  Thus, 
Hamlet  says  of  a  ranting  player,  that  he  *  out-Aerods  Herod.*  And,  in  this  tragedy, 
Alexas  tells  Cleopatra  [III,  iii,  6]  that  'not  even  Herod  of  Jewry  dare  look  upon 
her  when  she  is  angry  ; '  i.  e.  not  even  a  man  as  fierce  as  Herod.  According  to  this 
explanation,  the  sense  of  the  present  passage  will  be — Charmian  wishes  for  a  son 
who  may  arrive  at  such  power  and  dominion  that  the  proudest  and  fiercest  monarchs 
of  the  earth  may  be  brought  under  bis  yoke.  [That  this  is  the  specific,  theatrical 
Herod  to  whom  Charmian  refers  has  been  universally  accepted,  and  will  probably  so 
remain,  in  spite  of  the  preceding  ingenious  note. — Ed.] 

33.  0<5tauiu8  Csesar]  She  could  not  aspire  to  Anthony  without  being  a  rival  to 
her  mistress.     She,  therefore,  elects  the  next  highest  potentate. — Ed. 

35.  Oh  excellent]  Capell  (p.  27)  :  It  has  been  observed  by  a  gentleman, — 
that  this  is  <  one  of  those  ominous  speeches,  in  which  the  ancients  were  so  super- 
stitious,' and  the  observation  is  just ;  for  the  Poet  deals  largely  in  them.  [Very 
doubtful.] 

35.  I  loue  long  life  better  than  Figs]  Stsevens  says  that  this  is  a  proverbial 
expression. 

38.  my  Children  shall  haue  no  names]  Johnson  :  If  I  have  already  had  the 
best  of  my  fortune,  then  I  suppose  *  I  shall  never  name  children,'  that  is,  I  am  never 
to  be  married.  However,  tell  me  the  truth,  tell  me,  *  how  many  boys  and  wenches  ? ' 
Steevens  :  A  *  fairer  fortune,*  I  believe,  means — a  more  reputable  one.  Her  answer 
then  implies,  that  belike  all  her  children  will  be  bastards,  who  have  no  right  to  the 
name  of  their  father's  family.  Thus  says  Launce:  'That's  as  much  as  to  say, 
bastard  virtues;  that,  indeed,  know  not  their  fathers,  and  therefore  have  no  names.' 
—  7W  Gent,  III,  i,  321.  Malone:  Compare  R,  of  L.  *Thy  issue  blurr'd  with 
nameless  bastardy, "^ — line  522. 

40.  euery]  For  other  examples  of  *  every '  equivalent  to  every  one,  see  FRANZ, 
I  219,  c. ;  or  Abbott,  {12. 

40,  41.  fore- tell]  Theobald  :  The  poet  certainly  wrote  *  And  fertil  every  wish.' 


ACT  I,  sc.  u.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  29 

Char.     Out  Foole,  I  forgiue  thee  for  a  Witch.  42 

Alex.  You  thinke  none  but  your  fheets  are  priuie  to 
your  wifties. 

Char.     Nay  come^  tell  Iras  hers.  45 

Alex.    WeeU  know  all  our  Fortunes. 

Enob.  Mine,  and  mofl  of  our  Fortunes  to  night,  ihall 
be  drunke  to  bed.  48 

43.  Out"}  Ou/f  ou/f  Han.  48.  ^^]  ^^ /<>  j"^  Rowe,  + .     ^e — Cap. 

44.  your  wijhes]  Separate  line,  Han.  et  seq.  (subs.) 

45.  come]  come,  and  Han. 

[I  make  no  question  that  this  is  Theobald's  own  emendation,  albeit  that  Warburton 
repeated  it  in  his  edition  and  made  no  allusion  whatever  to  him.  Consequently,  to 
Warburton  has  the  credit  pretty  generally  been  given.]  Johnson  :  The  emendation 
of  Dr  Warburton  is  made  with  great  acuteness;  yet  the  original  reading  may,  I  think, 
stand.  *  If  you  had  as  many  wombs  as  you  will  have  wishes,  and  I  should  foretel 
all  those  wishes,  I  should  foretel  a  million  of  children.'  <  And '  is  for  and  if,  which 
was  anciently,  and  is  still  provincially,  used  for  if.  [Thiselton  (p.  8)  says  that 
'  and '  is  here  illative, — a  somewhat  unusual  function,  but  the  topic  is  unusual. — Ed.] 
Malone  will  not  listen  to  untold  millions  of  '  wishes '  unless  accompanied  by  fer- 
tility. Collier  (ed.  ii)  adopts  fruitful^  the  emendation  of  his  MS  corrector,  and 
Dtce  (Strictures,  p.  20Z)  tells  him  that  the  ductus  literarum  is  not  favourable 
bit 

42.  for  a  Witch]  For  an  analysis  of  shades  of  meaning  of  this  '  for,'  meaning  in 
the  quality  of  in  the  capacity  of  as,  which  is  far  more  common  in  Shakespeare  than 
in  modem  usage,  see  Franz,  {  329. 

42.  Witch]  Walker  {Crit.  ii,  88)  :  'Witch'  in  the  sense  of  a  male  sorcerer,  or 
without  any  specific  reference  to  sex,  frequently  occurs  in  the  old  writers  [whereof 
many  examples  follow.  In  Wint.  Tale,  Leontes  calls  Paulina  a  'witch'  and  to 
add  to  it  an  especial  roughness,  calls  her  a  *  mankind  witch.'  Walker  concludes 
his  article  with  a  quotation  from  Minsheu's  Guide  into  the  tongues,  16 17  (s.  v.  Con- 
inration)  where  the  difference  is  set  forth  'betueene  Conjuration,  Witchcraft,  and 
Inchantment ; ' — *  the  Coniurer  seemeth  by  praiers  and  inuocation  of  Gods  powerfuU 
names,  to  compell  the  Diuell  to  say  or  doe  what  he  commandeth  him :  The  Witch 
dealeth  rather  by  a  friendly  and  voluntarie  conference  or  agreement  betweene  him  or 
her  and  the  Diuell  or  Familiar,  to  haue  his  or  her  tume  serued  in  lieu  or  stead  of 
blood,  or  other  gift  offered  vnto  him,  especially  of  his  or  her  soule  :  So  that  a  Con- 
iurer compacts  for  curiositie  to  know  secrets,  and  worke  maruels  ;  and  the  Witch  of 
meere  malice  to  doe  mischiefe  :  And  both  these  differ  from  Inchauntcrs  or  Sorcerers, 
because  the  former  two  haue  personall  conference  with  the  Diuell,  and  the  other 
meddles  but  with  Medicines  and  ceremoniall  formes  of  words  called  Chamies,  with- 
out apparition.'  Walker  quotes  only  a  portion  of  the  foregoing,  but  the  whole  of  it 
seems  interesting.  J.  Churton  Coluns  (Note  in  The  Pinner  of  Wakefield,  HI, 
"»  703)  quotes  from  Latimer:  «We  run  hither  and  thither  to  witches  or  sorcerers 
whom  we  call  wise  men.' — Sermons  preached  in  Lincolnshire,  V.  (ed.  not  given). 
In  the  edition  of  1572,  however,  this  passage  runs,  *  we  runnc  hither  and  thither  to 
wyssaides,  or  sorcerers,  whome  we  call  wyse  men.' — Fol.  98,  verso, — Ed.] 


30  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc  iL 

i'Tras.  There's  a  Palme  prefages  Chaftity^  if  nothing  els. 

Char.     E'ne  as  the  o're-flowing  Nylus  prefageth  Fa-  50 

mine. 

Iras.     Go  you  wilde  Bedfellow^  you  cannot  Soothfay. 

Char.  Nay,  if  an  oyly  Palme  bee  not  a  fruitfull  Prog- 
noftication,  I  cannot  fcratch  mine  eare.  Prythee  tel  her 
but  a  worky  day  Fortune.  55 

Sooth.     Your  Fortunes  are  alike* 

Iras.     But  how,  but  how,  giue  me  particulars. 

Sooth.     I  haue  faid. 

Iras.     Am  I  not  an  inch  of  Fortune  better  then  flie  ? 

Char.     Well,  if  you  were  but  an  inch  of  fortune  better  60 

then  I  :  where  would  you  choofe  it. 

Iras.     Not  in  my  Husbands  nofe. 

Char.     Our  worfer  thoughts  Heauens  mend. 

Alexas.     Come,  his  Fortune,  his  Fortune.     Oh  let  him  64 

49.  ^if^Mtff^ //j]  Separate  line,  Han.        et  seq.  (sabs.) 

50.  E^ne]  E*en  Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  Dyce,  57.  ^<w,^W]  A^io— ^^  Rowc,  Pope. 
Sta.  Cam.     Even  Var.  '73  et  cet                    howf^gvve  Theob.  ct  seq.  (subs.) 

Nylus\  Nile  Han.  64.  Alexas.]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope  i.    Om. 

55.  worky  day]  F,.  workyday  F,.  and  continuing  to  Char.  Pope  ii.  Con- 
Workyday  F^,  Rowe,+.  worky-day  Cti^,        tinuing  to  Char.  Theob.  et  seq. 

49-51.  There's  .  .  .  Soothsay]  Walker  {Crit.  i,  18)  reads  'There  is'  and 
divides  the  lines  thus  : — « chastity/  *  Nilus ' — *  bedfellow.*  *  Nil  us,*  he  obserres, 
*  surely  indicates  verse.'  But  why  does  he  begin  and  end  with  these  two  or  three 
lines  ?— -an  oasis  of  verse  in  a  desert  of  prose.  Is  it  to  be  imagined  that  Shakespeare 
would  have  contemplated  with  pleasure  such  patchwork  ?  Especially,  since,  in  order 
to  be  appreciated,  it  must  be  seen  on  the  printed  page,  a  pleasure,  which,  in  this 
play,  Shakespeare  probably  never  enjoyed.  And  in  the  meantime  what  becomes  of 
Delius's  fine-spun  theory  in  regard  to  prose  and  verse?  Every  line  of  this  portion 
of  the  scene  must  be  stark  prose,  or  for  poor  Delius, '  nought's  had,  all's  spent.*  We 
have  read  our  Shakespeare  to  little  advantage  unless  we  have  acquired  from  him  a 
liberality  as  free  as  the  air,  that  chartered  libertine,  and  these  theories  (the  very  word 
becomes  repulsive  !)  are  sent  to  put  that  liberality  to  the  test. — Ed. 

53.  oyly  Palme]  There  is  a  parallel  thought  in  0th.  HI,  iv,  36-38. 

54.  I  .  .  .  scratch  mine  eare]  F.  Bradnack  (Medical  Record,  N.  Y.,  i  Feb., 
'879*  p.  >l6)  in  an  amusing  list  of  proofs,  drawn  from  the  plays,  that  Shakespeare 
was  at  home  in  matters  of  physic,  quotes  the  present  phrase  as  evidence  that  he  was 
familiar  with  *  Brachial  Paralysis.' 

64.  Alexas.  Come,  etc.]  This  sophistication  of  the  compositor,  after  having 
been  adopted  in  the  Folios,  by  Rowe,  and  Pope,  Theobald  was  the  first  to  detect 
and  expose  in  his  Shakespeare  Restored,  whereof  the  full  title  reads : — or,  A  Specimen 
of  the  Many  Errors,  cu  well  Committed,  as  Unamended,  by  Mr.  Pope  in  his  late 
Edition  of  this  Poet,     Designed  Not  only  to  correct  the  said  Edition,  but  to  restore 


ACT  I,  sc.  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  3 1 

mary  a  woman  that  cannot  go,  fweet  IJis^  I  befeech  thee,  65 

and  let  her  dye  too,  and  giue  him  a  worfe,  and  let  worfe 
follow  worfe,  till  the  word  of  all  follow  him  laughing  to 
his  graue,  fifty-fold  a  Cuckold.  Good  IJis  heare  me  this 
Prayer,  though  thou  denie  me  a  matter  of  more  waight : 
good  IJis  I  befeech  thee.  70 

Iras.  Amen,deere  Goddeffe,  heare  that  prayer  of  the 
people.  For,  as  it  is  a  heart-breaking  to  fee  a  handfome 
man  loofe-WiuM,  fo  it  is  a  deadly  forrow,  to  beholde  a 
foule  Knaue  vncuqkolded  2  Therefore  deere  IJis  keep  de- 
corunij  and  Fortune  him  accordingly.  75 

67.  worfe\  worst  Warb.     (Corrected  71.  the]  thy  Daniel. 

N.  6f*  Qu.  VIII,  iii,  262.)  74,  75-  decomm]  Ff,  Rowe,+.    de- 

71.  Iras.]  Char.  Ff,  Rowe.  contm  Cap.  et  seq. 
AmuHy'\  Amen,  Cap. 

/At  True  Heading  0/  Shakespeare  in  all  the  Editions  ever  yet  publish'' d.  The  ▼olume 
which  followed  did  not  belie  this  unfortunate  title-page  ;  it  achieved  Pope's  undying 
enmity,  and,  for  its  author,  a  chief  place  in  The  Dunciad,  In  reference  to  the  pres- 
ent passage  Theobald  says  (p.  157)  in  substance: — *The  fact  is  evidently  this: 
Alexas  brings  a  fortune-teller  to  Iras  and  Charmian,  and  says  himself,  '*  We'll  know 
all  our  fortunes."  Well ;  the  Soothsayer  begins  with  the  women  ;  and  some  jokes 
pass  upon  the  subject  of  husbands  and  chastity  :  after  which,  the  women  hoping  for 
the  satisfaction  of  having  something  to  laugh  at  in  Alexas' s  fortune,  call  him  to  hold 
out  his  hand,  and  wish  heartily  that  he  may  have  the  prognostication  of  cuckoldom 
upon  him.  The  whole  speech,  therefore,  must  be  placed  to  Charmian.  There  needs 
no  stronger  proof  of  this  being  a  true  correction,  than  the  observations  which  Alexas 
immediately  subjoins  on  their  wishes  and  zeal  to  hear  him  abused.'  Theobald's 
Shakespeare  Restored  was  published  in  1726 ;  two  years  afterward  appeared  Pope's 
Second  Edition  wherein  the  Editor  was  forced  to  adopt  many,  very  many  of  Theo- 
bald's corrections.  It  looks,  in  the  present  passage,  as  though  Pope,  smarting  under 
the  judicious  slashes  which  Theobald  administered,  was  determined  to  adopt  as  little 
of  Theobald's  emendation  as  possible.  He  therefore  omitted  the  name  'Alexas* 
altogether,  and  by  Italics  tried  to  make  Charmian' s  speech  apply  to  him,  thus: 
«  Char.  Our  worser  thoughts  heav'ns  mend.     Come,  his  fortune,  his  fortune.'— Ed. 

65.  that  cannot  go]  That  is,  that  cannot  have  children.     Sec  N,  E.  D.  s.  v.  7. 

71,  72.  prayer  of  the  people]  Thiselton  (p.  9)  :  This  seems  to  mean  *that 
universal  prayer.' 

74.  75-  decorum]  Both  here  and  in  V,  ii,  21,  the  compositors  give  this  word  in 
Italics,  as  an  indication  that  it  had  not  yet  been  adopted  into  the  language.  Herein 
they  seem  to  have  followed  the  prevailing  fashion.  In  a  majority  of  the  examples, 
gathered  by  the  N,  E.  D.  extending  from  Ascham's  Scholemasier,  in  1568,  down  to 
Shakespeare's  time,  the  word  is  similarly  italicised ;  and  the  Text.  Notes  above,  show 
that  the  practice  was  kept  up  in  all  the  early  editions  down  to,  and  including,  John- 
son's.— Ed. 


32  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  u. 

Char.    Amen.  76 

Alex.     Lo  now^  if  it  lay  in  their  hands  to  make  mee  a 

Cuckold,    they  would   make  themfelues  Whores,  but 

the/ld  doo't. 

Enter  Cleopatra.  80 

Enob.     Hufti,  heere  comes  Anthony. 

CItar.     Not  he,  the  Queene. 

Cleo.     Saue  you,  my  Lord. 

Enob.     No  Lady. 

Cleo.    Was  he  not  heere?  85 

Char.     No  Madam. 

Cleo.     He  was  difposM  to  mirth,  but  on  the  fodaine 
A  Romane  thought  hath  ftrooke  him. 
Enobarbus  ? 

Enob.     Madam.  90 

Cleo. Seeke  him, and  bring  him  hither:  wher's  Alexias'^ 

Alex.     Heere  at  your  feruice. 
My  Lord  approaches. 

Enter  Anthony^  with  a  Meffenger. 

Cleo.    We  will  not  looke  vpon  him  2  95 

Go  with  vs.  Exeunt. 

MeJJen.     Fuluia  thy  Wife, 
Firft  came  into  the  Field.  98 

76.  Char.]  Iras.  Rowe  ii.  Enobarbus!  Han.  Glo. 

Amen]  Amen  F^,  Rowe,  Pope.  90.  AfadamJ]  Meuiaml  Dyce,  Glo. 

77.  now^]  mw/Cap.  91.  Alexias?]  F,. 

80.  [Scene  III.  Pope,  +  .  92,  93.  One  line,  Rowe  ct  seq. 

Enter...]  Enter... attended  (After  92.  Heere]  Here,  lady.  Cap.     Here, 

line  82)  Cap.  et  seq.  madam,  Steev. 

83.  Saue  you,  my]  Saw  you  my  Ff  et  92,  f^"^.  feruice.  My]  service  ;  see,  my 

seq.  Han. 

%T .  fodaine]  fudden  Y ^ ^.  94.  Enter...]  Enter... and  Attendants. 

88,  89.  -r4... Enobarbus?]   One  line,  Rowe.  Enter... and  Titius.  Kemble. 

Rowe  et  seq.  95,  96.  lVe..,vs]  One  line,  Rowe  ct 

88.  Romane]  roaming  Grey  (ii,  191).  seq. 

AafA]  Aad  F^,  Rowe,  Fope^Hzxi,  96.  Exeunt.]    Exeunt    Geop.    Eno. 

firooke]flruck  F^F^.    strook  Cap.         Alex.  Iras,  Charm.  Soothsayer  and  the 

89.  Enobarbus?]  Enobarbus.  Rowe.         rest.  Cap. 

Enobarbus, —  Theob.  Cap.  Knt,  Dyce.  97,  98.  One  line,  Rowe  et  seq. 


81.  heere  comes  Anthony]  A  veiled  sneer.  Enobarbus  knew  well  enough  that 
it  was  Cleopatra. — Ed. 

95.  We  will  not  looke  vpon  him]  Possibly,  because  he  was  'disposed  to  mirth;' 
moreover,  she  was  jealous  of  every  thought  that  he  gave  to  Rome. — Ed. 


ACT  I,  sc.  iL]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


33 


Ant.    Againfl  my  Brother  Lucius  ? 

Mejfen.    I .-  but  foone  that  Warre  had  end^ 
And  the  times  ftate 

Bfade  friends  of  them,  ioynting  their  force  'gainft  Cafar^ 
Whofe  better  iffue  in  the  warre  from  Italy, 
Vpon  the  firil  encounter  draue  them. 

Ant.    Well,  what  word. 

Mejf.    The  Nature  of  bad  newes  infefts  the  Teller. 

Ant.    When  it  concemes  the  Foole  or  Coward :  On. 
Things  that  are  paft,  are  done,  with  me.     'Tis  thus. 
Who  tels  me  true,  though  in  his  Tale  lye  death, 
I  heare  him  as  he  flattered. 

Me/.     Labienus  (this  is  (lifie-newes) 
Hath  with  his  Parthian  Force 
Extended  Afia  :  from  Euphrates  his  conquering 


100 


105 


no 


113 


99.  Lucius?]  Lucius.  Ff. 

too.  /.•]  Ay.  (separate  line),  Johns. 
Ran.  Mai.  Steev.  Knt,  Coll.  Dyce,  Glo. 

100-102.  Two  lines,  ending  state.,, 
Otsar  Rowe,  + ,  Rau.  Mai.  Steev.  Knt, 
Coll.  Dyce,  Glo.  Three  lines,  ending 
seen... friends... Qesar.  Han.  Cap. 

102.  iayniiMg'\  joining  Coll.  MS  ap. 
Cam. 

force    'gain/i']    forces    against 
Han.  Gap. 

103.  ijfue'\  Isse  Rowe  i  (misprint). 
warre  from   Italy ^"^   warre  of 

Italy,  FJP^,  Rowe,  Pope,     war,  from 
Italy  Han.  et  seq.  (subs. ) 

105.  WeU,'\  Separate  line,  Han.  Cap. 
StecT. 

worft.'\  Ff.     worse?  Han.  Ran. 
worst  ?  Rowe  et  cet 


109.  his'\  the  Rowe  ii,+. 
no.  him  <m]  asifVoi^,  Thcob.  Han. 
Warb. 

111.  this  is  fliffe-newes]  Cm.  Han. 
Gar.     Separate  line.  Cap. 

111-115.  (this...whil/f\  Lines  end 
force  ...  Euphrates  ...  Syria  ...  Ionia  ... 
whilft  Steev.  Var.  Knt,  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo. 
Cam.  Lines  end  force... Euphrates.., 
Syria, „whilst  Coll.  Sing.  Wh.  Ktly. 

112.  113.  Hath,„Afia'\  One  line, 
Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  Var.  '73,  ^78,  Ran.  Mai. 

113.  Extended^  thrd  extended  Han. 
Cap. 

113,  11^.  from, „fhooke'\  His  conquer- 
ing banner  from  Euphrates  shook  Han. 

1 1 3-1 15.  from...whiVff\  Lines  end 
shook  . . .  Ionia . . .  Whilst  Pope,  + ,  Cap. 
Ran.  Mai. 


loi.  the  times  state]  This  phrase,  when  expressed  as  '  the  state  of  the  times,'  is 
familiar  enough. — Ed. 

103.  warre  from  Italy,]  This  comma  after  *  Italy '  Hanmer  was  the  first  to  place 
properly  after  *  warre.* 

III.  (this  is  stiffe-newes)]  Capell  (i,  27) :  If  this  be  meant  of  the  style  in  which 
the  Messenger  couches  his  news, — and  no  other  meaning  presents  itself, — there  was 
never  a  greater  truth  :  The  words  are  expunged  in  [Hanmer's]  edition  ;  and  had 
been  so  in  this,  had  they  appeared  in  the  light  which  they  now  do  ;  which  is  that  of 
— a  gloss  on  the  other  words,  put  by  heedlessness  into  the  manuscript,  and  creeping 
thence  into  print. 

113.  Extended]  Bradley  {N.  E,  D.  s.  y.) :  11.  Law.    To  take  possession  of 

3 


34  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  iL 

Banner  fhooke^  from  Syria  to  Lydia, 

And  to  lonia^  whil'ft 1 15 

Ant.    Anthony  thou  would^ft  fay. 

Mef.     Oh  my  Lord. 

Ant.    Speake  to  me  home. 
Mince  not  the  generall  tongue,  name 

Cleopatra  as  fhe  is  call'd  in  Rome  :  120 

Raile  thou  in  FtUnids  phrafe,  and  taunt  my  faults 
With  fuch  full  Licenfe,  as  both  Truth  and  Malice 
Haue  power  to  vtter.     Oh  then  we  bring  forth  weeds. 
When  our  quicke  windes  lye  ftill,  and  our  illes  told  vs  124 

1 14,  1 15.  from,„I<mia^'\  And  Syria^  12a  JJU is]  sk^s Rowe ii,+,Cap.  Ran. 
to  Lydia  and  Ionia  ;  Han.                              Mai.  Steev.  Var.  Knt,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

115.  to  Ionia]  Ionia  Pope,  +  ,  Cap.  121.  phrafe)  praise  Gould. 
116, /ay.]    say^    Theob.    et    seq.  my  fmtlts]  thy  faults  YJP^. 

(subs.)  124.  vnndes]¥^.  winds  F^F^.   mi$tds 

117.  Oh]  Oh,  no  Ktly.  Warb.  Han.  Ran.  MaL  Var. '21,  Sing. 

11^120.  Speahe,„Rome]  Two  lines,  Hal.  Dyce,  Wh.  Ktly,  Glo.  Cam.  Coll. 

ending    tongue, „Rome    Rowe  et    seq.  iii,  Marshall,  Dtn,  Hnds.  Rife. 

(subs.)  illes]  m Vo^,-\^ . 


by  a  writ  of  extent ;  to  seize  upon  (land,  etc. )  in  satisfaction  for  a  debt ;  to  levy 
upon.  b.  transferred  sense.  To  seize  upon,  take  possession  of,  by  force.  [As  in  the 
present  line.] 

113.  Euphrates]  The  Text.  Notes  give  Keightle3r's  division  of  these  lines,  but  it 
is  not  easy  to  understand  from  them  that  it  is  in  order  to  avoid  the  pronunciation 
'Euphrates*  that  he  reads  'Euphrates  and.*  Walker  (Vers.  172)  shows  by 
examples  from  Drayton,  Spenser,  Fairfax,  and  Sylvester  that  Euphrates,  with  the 
accent  on  the  first  syllable,  was  the  common  Elizabethan  pronunciation.  [See  Ap- 
pendix, Plutarch.] 

124.  our  quicke  windes]  Warburton  :  We  should  read  minds.  The  m  was 
accidentally  turned  the  wrong  way  at  the  press.  The  sense  is  this :  While  the  active 
principle  within  us  lies  immerged  in  sloth  and  luxury,  we  bring  forth  vices  instead 
of  virtues,  weeds  instead  of  flowers  and  fruits :  But  the  laying  before  us  our  ill 
condition  plainly  and  honestly  is,  as  it  were,  the  first  culture  of  the  mind,  which 
gives  hope  of  a  future  harvest.  This  he  says  to  encourage  the  messenger  to  hide 
nothing  from  him.  Capell  (i,  27):  By  'winds'  are  meant — friends;  persons  so 
truly  such,  as  to  remind  those  they  love  of  their  faults ;  the  observation  is  certainly 
just ;  and  the  metaphor  in  which  it  is  wrap'd,  a  physical  truth ;  and  that  this  is  a 
true  interpretation,  is  clear  from  what  immediately  follows, — '  and  our  ills  told  us, 
Is  as  our  earing  ; '  i.  e. — and  the  telling  us  our  ills  or  ill  actions,  is  a  kind  of  culture 
to  minds  that  lie  waste  ; — still  pursuing  the  image  he  had  borrowed  from  husbandry. 
Johnson  [reading  '  winds']  :  The  sense  is,  that  roan,  not  agitated  by  censure,  like 
soil  not  ventilated  by  quick  winds,  produces  more  evil  than  good.  Blackstone  :  I 
suspect  tbnt  quick  winds  is,  or  is  a  corruption  of,  some  provincial  word,  signifying 
either  arabit  lands,  or  the  instruments  0/ husbandry  used  in  tilling  them.    Steevens  : 


ACT  I,  sc.  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  35 


[124.  our  quicke  windes] 
This  conjecture  is  well  foanded.  The  ridges  left  in  lands  turned  up  by  the  plough, 
that  thej  may  sweeten  during  their  fallow  state,  are  still  called  wind-rows.  Quick 
windSf  I  suppose  to  be  the  same  as  iteming-  /a/laws ;  for  such  fallcws  are  always 
fnaifid  in  weeds,  Henlky  :  When  the  *  quick  winds  lie  still,*  that  is,  m  tf  mild 
winter,  those  weeds  which  *  the  tyrannous  breathings  of  the  north '  would  have  cut 
off,  will  continue  to  grow  and  seed,  to  the  no  small  detriment  of  the  crop  to  follow. 
M.  Mason  :  The  words  He  sHU^  are  opposed  to  earing;  quick  means  pregnant ;  and 
the  sense  of  the  passage  is :  *  When  our  pregnant  minds  lie  idle  and  untilled,  they 
bring  forth  weeds;  but  the  telling  us  of  our  faults  is  a  kind  of  culture  to  them.'  The 
ptonoun  our  before  quiek^  shows  that  the  substantive  to  which  it  refers  must  be  some- 
thing belonging  to  us,  not  merely  an  external  object,  as  the  wind  is.  To  talk  of 
quick  winds  lying  stiiit  is  little  better  than  nonsense.  Malonk:  Dr  Johnson's 
explanation  is  certainly  true  of  sail^  but  where  did  Dr  Johnson  find  the  word  soil  in 
this  passage  ?  He  found  only  winds^  and  was  forced  to  substitute  soil  ventilated  hy 
mnds  in  the  room  of  the  word  in  the  old  copy ;  as  Mr  Steevens,  in  order  to  extract 
a  meamng  finom  it,  supposes  winds  to  mean  to  fallows^  because '  the  ridges  left  in 
lands  turned  up  by  the  plough,  are  termed  wind-rows ; '  though  surely  the  obvious 
explication  of  the  latter  word,  rotos  exposed  to  the  windy  is  the  true  one.  Hence  the 
rows  of  new-mown  grass  laid  in  heaps  to  dry,  are  also  called  wind-rows.  Our  quick 
misdsy  means,  our  lively,  apprehensive  minds.  So,  in  2  Hen,  IV:  IV,  iii,  107 : '  It 
ascends  me  into  the  brain; — makes  it  apprehensive,  quick^  foigetive.'  Again,  in 
this  play :  '  The  quick  comedians,*  etc.  The  same  error  is  found  in  King  John,  V, 
vii,  16  where  we  have,  in  the  only  authentick  copy :  <  Death,  having  prey*d  upon  the 
outward  parts.  Leaves  them  invisible ;  and  his  siege  is  now  Against  the  wind,^ 
Agaix^  in  Tro.  and  Cress.  FJF^F^ :  <  Let  it  be  call' d  the  mild  and  wand'ring  flood.' 
Knight  [reading  *  winds ']  :  When  do  we  '  bring  forth  weeds '  ?  In  a  heavy  and 
moist  season,  when  there  are  no  *  quick  winds '  to  mellow  the  earth,  to  dry  up  the 
exuberant  moisture,  to  fit  it  for  the  plough.  The  poet  knew  the  old  proverb  of  the 
worth  of  a  bushel  of  March  dust ;  but  *  the  winds  of  March,'  rough  and  unpleasant 
as  they  are,  he  knew  also  produced  this  good.  The  quick  winds  then  are  the  voices 
which  bring  us  true  reports  to  put  an  end  to  our  inaction.  When  these  winds  lie 
still  we  bring  forth  weeds.  But  the  metaphor  is  carried  farther  :  the  winds  have 
rendered  the  sofl  fit  for  the  plough ;  but  the  knowledge  of  our  own  faults,— ills, — 
is  as  the  ploughing  itself, — ^the  'earing.'  Coluer  [reading  'winds']:  Perhaps 
*  winds'  ought  to  be  qpelt  wints,  which  in  Kent  and  Sussex  is  an  agricultural  term 
(in  other  parts  of  the  country  called  a  bout),  meaning  '  two  furrows  ploughed  by  the 
horses  going  to  one  end  oi  the  field  and  back  again.'  See  Cooper's  Sussex  Glossary, 
1836 ;  also  Holloway's  General  Provincial  Dictionary,  1838.  *  Our  quick  winds,' 
therefore,  is  to  be  understood  as  our  productive  soil.  *  Earing '  is  ploughing ;  and  its 
use  shows  that  Anthony  had  agriculture  in  his  thoughts,  with  reference  to  '  winds ' 
or  wints.  Staunton  [reading  '  winds ']  :  Warburton's  change  is,  perhaps,  without 
necessity.  '  Quick  winds '  may  mean  quickening  winds,  and  Johnson's  explanation 
of  the  passage  is  possibly  the  true  one.  Dbighton  [reading  winds']  :  It  is  when  our 
active  minds  are  allowed  to  lie  untilled  by  wholesome  truths  that  they  shoot  up 
noxious  growths,  and  the  telling  us  of  our  faults  is  as  the  ploughing  of  the  soil  which 
roots  up  such  growths.  [To  roe  an  insuperable  difficulty  in  accepting  *  winds '  is  the 
possessive  pronoun  'our.'  I  do  not  know  what  these  winds  are,  which  we  possess 
and,  if  quiescent,  suffer  us  to  bring  forth  weeds.    The  agency  of  our  reformation  comes 


36 


THE   TR AG  ED  IE  OF 


[act  I,  sc  it 


Is  as  our  earing  :  iare  thee  well  awhile.  125 

Mef.    At  your  Noble  pleafure.  Exit  Meffenger. 

Enter  another  Mejfenger. 

Ant.    From  Scicion  how  the  newes  ?  Speake  there. 

I .  Mef.    The  man  from  Scicion^ 
Is  there  fuch  an  one  ?  130 

2.Me/.     He  ftayes  vpon  your  will. 

Ant.     Let  him  appeare : 
Thefe  ftrong  Eg)rptian  Fetters  I  muft  breake. 
Or  loofe  my  felfe  in  dotage. 


Enter  another  Mejfenger  with  a  Letter. 

What  are  you  ? 

I. Me/.    Fuluia  thy  wife  is  dead. 
Ant.    Where  dyed  flie. 


13s 


138 


125.  earing"]  ear-ring  ¥y    Ear-ring 
are  F^. 

awhiW]  F,.  awhile  F,.  a  while 
FjF^,  Rowe,+,  Cap. 

126.  N<^U]  gooilVfords. 

Exit...]  Om.  Rowe.  Exit  first 
Messenger.  Theob. 

127.  Enter...]  Om.  Rowe,  Cap. 
12S.  Scicion]  Sicyon  Pope. 

Scicion  how  /he]  Sicyon,  hew  the 
Theob,  Warb.  Johns.  Coll.  ii.  Sicyon, 
ho,  the  Dyce,  Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Sicyon  ho  / 
the  ColL  iii.    Scicion  now  the  Coll.  MS. 


128.  Speake"]  Speak  to  him  Words. 

129.  I.  Mef.]    Mes.    Rowe.      i.  A. 
Cap. 

Z29,  130.   The  man,. .an  onef]  One 
line,  Rowe  et  seq. 

130.  an  one"]  a  one  Cap. 

131.  2.Mef.]  Attend.  Rowe.     2.  A. 
Cap. 

your]  you  F^. 

134.  loo/e]  lo/e  F^. 

135.  Enter...]  After  line  136,  Rowe. 
After  line  133,  Coll. 

137-  3. Mef.]  2.Mes.  Rowe. 


to  us  from  without,  and  even  then  not  by  arousing  these  still  winds,  but  by  husbandry. 
Could  Shakespeare,  could  any  one,  suppose  that  weeds  were  killed  by  the  wind  ? 
more  especially  by  a  quick  wind,  one  that  is  full  of  life  ?  And  can  a  wind  dis- 
criminate between  weeds  and  wheat,  kill  the  one  and  foster  the  other?  Whereas 
by  accepting  minds  instead  of  <  windes,'  all  is  intelligible :  when  our  active  minds  are 
still,  conscience  sleeps  and  evil  practices  abound. — Ed.] 

125.  Is]  Abbott  (§  337):  The  real  nominative  is  not  the  noun  'ills,'  but  the 
whole  noun  clause.     Thus,  *  The  telling  us  of  our  faults  is  like  ploughing  us.' 

128.  From  Scicion  how  the  newes  ?]  Possibly,  the  reason  why  Capell  did  not 
change  this  'how'  into  ho,  as  be  wisely  converted  the  'How'  of  line  153  (thereby 
anticipating  Dyce),  was  because  the  sense  may  here  be,  'how  is  the  news  from 
Sicyon  ? ' — Ed. 

131.  vpon]  For  other  examples  of  the  use  of '  upon '  involving  the  idea  of  waiting 
on,  attending  to,  etc.  see  Franz  {  344,  a.  See  also  II,  i,  $2,  post.  Steevens  quotes 
'  Worthy  Macbeth,  we  stay  upon  your  leisure.' — ^I,  iii,  148. 


ACT  1,  sc  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  37 

Mef.    In  ScicioHj  her  length  of  ficknefle. 
With  what  elfe  more  ferious,  140 

Importeth  thee  to  know,  this  beares. 

Antho.     Forbeare  me 
There's  a  great  Spirit  gone,  thu  s  did  I  defire  it : 
What  our  contempts  doth  often  hurle  from  vs, 
We  wifh  it  ours  ag^ne.     The  prefent  pleafure,  145 

1 39- 14 1.    In  „,  bears]     Lines    end,  l^^,  did Idefire'\I(Urif'dVo^it^li8Ji. 

SuyoH„jeriaus.,*bears,  Pope  et  seq.  144.  contempts  doth"]  comtempt  doth 

141.  ImporUth]  Importe  to  F,.  Im-  Sta.  Glo.  Rife,  Dtn.  contempts  do  Ff 
port  to  F^.  et  cet. 

142.  [Exit  second  Messenger.  Theob.  145.  ours\  out's  Coll.  il. 

143.  Spirit]  Walkkr  {Crit.  i,  aoi)  includes  this  *  Spirit'  in  his  list  of  numerous 
passages  *  in  which  the  disyllabic  pronunciation  of  spirit  renders  a  line  positively 
unmetiical  or  inharmonious  to  a  degree  beyond  what  the  poet's  ear  could  possibly 
have  tolerated.'  [From  childhood  we  have  been  so  accustomed  to  regard  sprite  as 
the  name  of  a  goblin,  that  its  introduction  in  a  solemn  line  like  the  present  could 
hardly  fail  to  have  a  jarring  effect,  for  which  metrical  smoothness  would  be  hardly  a 
sufficient  compensation. — Ed.] 

144.  from  vs]  Walker  {Crit.  ill,  294) :  I  suspect  a  word  has  dropt  out :— <  do 
often  hurl  from  's,  gone  We  wish  it  ours  again.'  [Walker  does  not  quote  the  pre- 
ceding line ;  had  he  done  so,  he  would  have  seen  at  once  that  his  repetition  of 
'  gone '  rendeis  his  proposed  change  extremely  doubtful. — Ed. 

145.  we  wish  it  ours  again]  Theobald  refers  to  <  Virtutem  incolumen  odimus, 
Soblatam  ex  oculis  quaerimus  invidi.' — Horace,  Odes^  III,  xxiv,  31.  Steevens: 
Compare,  'We  mone  that  lost,  which  had  we  did  bemone.' — Sidney's  Arcadia^  ii. 
[p.  148,  closing  line  of  chant  of  Basilius ;  ed.  1598.  Compare,  for  the  sentiment, 
209-211,  sfff^rir.— Ed.] 

145.  The  present  pleasure,  etc]  Warburton:  The  alludon  is  to  the  sun's 
dinmal  course  ;  which  rising  in  the  east,  and  by  revolution  loztfering,  or  setting  in  the 
west,  becomes  the  opposite  of  itself,  [Rolfe  thinks  that  there  is  an  allusion  rather  to 
the  turning  of  a  wheel,  probably  suggested  by  the  familiar  *  wheel  of  Fortune.'] 
Johnson  :  This  is  an  obscure  passage.  The  explanation  which  Dr  Warburton  has 
ofiered  is  such,  that  I  can  add  nothing  to  it ;  yet,  perhaps,  Shakespeare,  who  was 
less  learned  than  his  commentator,  meant  only,  that  our  pleasures,  as  they  are 
revolved  in  the  mind,  turn  to  pain.  Capell  (i,  28)  :  The  sentiment  contained  in 
the  passage  that  begins  with  these  words  is,  in  the  main,  no  other  than  that  con- 
tain'd  in  the  general  maxim  preceding  it,  and  in  the  reflections  with  which  it  is  fol- 
lowed. TOLLET :  I  rather  understand  the  passage  thus :  '  What  we  often  cast  from 
us  in  contempt  we  wish  again  for,  and  what  is  at  present  our  greatest  pleasure,  lowers 
in  our  estimation  by  the  revolution  of  time ;  or  by  a  frequent  return  of  possession 
becomes  undesirable  and  disagreeable.'  Steevens:  I  believe  revolution  means 
change  of  circumstances.  This  sense  appears  to  remove  every  difHculty  from  the 
passage. — *  The  pleasure  of  to-day,  by  revolution  of  events  and  change  of  circum- 
stances, often  loses  all  its  value  to  us,  and  becomes  to-morrow  a  pain.'  [Knight 
and  Deighton  adopt  this  interpretation  of  Steevens.] 


38  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  ii. 

By  reuolution  lowring^  does  become  146 

The  oppofite  of  it  felfe  :  (he's  good  being  gon, 

The  hand  could  plucke  her  backe^  that  fliouM  her  on. 

I  muft  from  this  enchanting  Queene  breake  off, 

Ten  thou(and  harmes,  more  then  the  illes  I  know  i^o 

My  idleneffe  doth  hatch. 

Enter  Enobarbus. 

How  now  Enobarbus. 
Eno.    What's  your  pleafure,  Sir? 

Anth.     I  muft  with  hafte  from  hence.  155 

Eno.    Why  then  we  kill  all  our  Women.   We  fee  how 

146.  ^ttrrMif]  Ff,  Rowe,-!-.   lowering  Rowe  et  seq. 

Cap.  et  cet.  153.   How  now]  How  now,  F^,  Theob. 

148.  could'\  would  Gould.  +,  Sta.     Ho!  Cap.  Dyce,  Hal.  Coll.  u, 

149.  onchanting]  Om.Ff.  Egyptian  Wh.  i.  HownowISHtv.  Glo.  Wh.  ii. 
Rowe,  Fbpe.  Ho  now  !  Coll.  ill. 

151-153.  ^...Enobarbus]  One  line,  155.  hafie\  kafi  F^F^. 

Z46.  By  reuolution  lowring]  Colukr  (ed.  ii.  Reading  <  By  repetition  sour- 
ing ' ) :  Our  text  has  been  furnished  here  by  the  MS  and  we  cannot  doubt  that  it  is 
what  the  poet  wrote.  The  meaning  of  course  is,  that  pleasure,  souring  by  repetition, 
becomes  the  reverse  of  itself.  The  old  compositor  misread  '  repetition  *  rtvoUUian^ 
and  '  sowering '  (as  the  word  was  then  often  ^pelt)  lowering,  and  thus  made  almost 
nonsense  of  the  whole  passage.  The  restoration  by  the  old  annotator  can  hardly 
have  been  a  mere  guess.  [We  are  willing,  all  of  us,  upon  a  compelling  occasion,  to 
listen  with  condescending  benignity  to  almost  any  emendation  of  the  text  of  Shake- 
speare, but — we  must  draw  the  line  at  souring, — a  repuUive  word,  and  worse  than  a 
wilderness  of  flies  in  the  apothecary's  ointment  In  his  Third  Edition  Collier 
returned  to  the  received  text,  but  remarked  in  a  footnote  diat  the  reading  of  the  MS 
<  is  perhaps  right.'     See  note  on  Daniel's  Cleopatra,  Appendix,  p.  515. — Ed.] 

148.  could  plucke]  Heath  :  The  verb  could  hath  a  peculiar  signification  in  this 
place ;  it  doth  not  denote  power  but  inclination.  The  sense  is,  *  the  hand  that  drove 
her  off  would  now  willingly  pluck  her  back  again.' 

150.  hannes,  more]  I  doubt  the  propriety  of  this  comma,  which  has  been  uni- 
formly adopted,  I  believe.  I  think  the  sense  is :  My  idleness  hatches  ten  thousand 
more  unknown  harms  than  the  ills  I  see  at  hand. — Ed. 

153.  How  now]  Dyce  {Notes,  p.  150):  It  would  be  impossible,  I  presume,  to 
point  out,  in  any  old  writer,  an  instance  of  <  How  now  1 '  used  as  the  exclamation  of 
a  person  summoning  another  into  his  presence.  Here  the  right  reading  is  indubitably, 
— *  Ho,  Enobarbus ! '  I  have  already  shewn  [in  a  note  on  Love's  Lab.  Lost,  V,  ii, 
45,  quoted  ad  loc,  in  this  edition — Ed.]  that  *  ho^  was  very  frequently  spelt  *  how  :^ 
and  the  probability  is  that  in  the  present  passage  the  author's  manuscript  had  *hcw  ; ' 
to  which  either  some  transcriber  or  the  original  compositor,  who  did  not  understand 
what  was  meant,  added  'now'  (making  the  line  over-measure).  [Dyce  in  his 
edition,  printed  four  years  after  his  Notes,  acknowledged  that  he  was  unaware,  when 
he  wrote  the  foregoing  note,  that  he  had  been  therein  anticipated  by  Capell.] 


ACT  I,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  39 

mortall  an  vnkindnefle  is  to  them,    if  they  fuffer  our  de-         157 
parture  death's  the  word. 

Ant.     I  muft  be  gone. 

Eno.  Vnder  a  compelling  an  occafion,  let  women  die.  160 
It  were  pitty  to  call  them  away  for  nothing,  though  be- 
tweene  them  and  a  great  caufe,  they  fhould  be  eileemed 
nothing.  Cleopatra  catching  but  the  lead  noyfe  of  this, 
dies  inftantly :  I  haue  feene  her  dye  twenty  times  vppon 
iarre  poorer  moment  :  I  do  think  there  is  mettle  in  death,  165 
which  commits  fome  louing  a6le  vpon  her,  (he  hath  fuch 
a  celerity  in  dying. 

Ant.     She  is  cunning  pad  mans  thought. 

Eno.    Alacke  Sir  no,  her  paflions  are  made  of  nothing 
but  the  fineft  part  of  pure  Loue.  We  cannot  cal  her  winds         170 
and  waters,  fighes  and  teares  :  They  are  greater  ilormes 
and  Tempeils  then  Almanackes  can  report.    This  cannot         172 

160.  a  compelling  an\  a  compelling        Nicholson  ap.  Ctm. 
Rowe  et  seq.     as  compelling  an  Anon.  167.  celerity]  alacrity  Han. 

ap.  Cam.  Thiselton.     so  compelling  an  169.  no^"]  no;  Theob. 

15S.  the  word]  Dkighton:  That  is,  the  watch- word  on  erery  lip.  Compare 
Jul,  Qts,  V,  ▼,  4; — 'slaying  is  the  word;'  Cor,  III,  ii,  142:  *The  word  is 
"mildly."  *     [See  also,  'you  were  the  word  of  warre,*  II,  ii,  57.] 

165.  poorer  moment]  Johnson  :  For  less  reason ;  upon  meaner  motives. 

165.  mettle]  Tuisklton  (p*  9) :  The  metaphor  is  probably  taken  from  the  load- 
itone.     '  Aimant '  is  the  French  word  for  magnet 

170,  171.  her  winds  and  waters,  sighes  and  teares]  Malone:  I  once  idly 
supposed  that  Shakespeare  wrote — *  We  cannot  call  her  sighs  and  tears,  winds  and 
waters ; ' — which  is  certainly  the  phraseology  we  should  now  use. .  .  .  The  passage, 
however,  may  be  understood  without  any  inversion.  '  We  cannot  call  the  damoiur- 
oos  heavings  of  her  breast,  and  the  copious  streams  which  flow  from  her  eyes,  by  the 
ordinary  name  of  sighs  and  tears ;  they  are  greater  storms,'  etc.  [It  is  doubtful  that 
Zachary  Jackson,  or  his  copesmate  Andrew  Becket,  or  Lord  Chedworth,  who  makes 
a  good  third,  ever  wrote  a  more  trying  note  than  this  of  Malone.  In  supposing  this 
sentence  of  Enobarbus  to  be  inverted,  Malone  betrayed  his  misapprehension  of 
its  meaning,  and  I  think  that  he  made  his  feeble  conjecture  before  he  had  read 
the  rest  of  the  speech.  If,  in  speaking  of  Mont  Blanc  we  should  say '  we  cannot  call 
Mont  Blanc  a  molehill '  is  there  any  phraseology  of  any  time  or  of  any  people  in 
which  this  expression  would  be  termed  an  inversion?  However,  before  he  finished 
his  comment  Malone  discovered  his  error,  but  he  should  have  cancelled  the  first  por- 
tion of  his  note. — Ed.] 

172.  Almanackes  can  report]  Halliwell  quotes  at  length  Sordido*s  consul- 
tation of  a  '  prognostication '  wherein  the  wind  and  rain  and  blustering  storms  are  duly 
foretold  for  each  day  of  the  month,  in  Jonson's  Every  man  out  of  his  Humour ^  I,  i. 


40  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  iL 

be  cunning  in  her ;  if  it  be,  fhe  makes  a  fhowre  of  Raine         173 
as  well  as  loue. 

Ant.    Would  I  had  neuer  feene  her.  175 

Eno.  Oh  fir,  you  had  then  left  vnfeene  a  wonderful! 
peece  of  worke,  which  not  to  haue  beene  bleft  withall, 
would  haue  difcredited  your  Trauaile. 

Ant.     Fuluia  is  dead. 

Eno.     Sir.  180 

Ant.     Fuluia  is  dead. 

Eno.    Fuluia  ? 

Ant,     Dead. 

Eno.    Why  fir,  giue  the  Gods  a  thankefull  Sacrifice : 
when  it  pleafeth  their  Deities  to  take  the  wife  of  a  man         185 
from  him,  it  fhewes  to  man  the  Tailors  of  the  earth:  com- 

175.  IVould^  '  IVmld  Theob.  + ,  Mai.  Glo.  Cam. 

Steev.  Klly.  186.  iijhewes]  they  shew  Han. 

178.    TraMaiU\  Travel  Y^^.  TaiUrs}    tailor   Pope,    Theob. 

180.  5fV.]  Sir!  F^,  Rowe,+.     SirJ  Han. 

Cap.  et  seq.  (subs.)  i86,  187.  comforting]  comforting  him 

182.  Fuluia  ?]  Fuhia  !  Dyce,   Coll.  Rowe,  Pope,  Han.  Warb. 


177.  peece  of  worke]  Note  the  critical  eye  which  appreciates  Cleopatra  as  a  piece 
of  mechanism  to  be  classed  with  other  wonders. — Ed. 

186.  it  shewes,  etc.]  Johnson:  I  have  printed  this  after  the  original,  which, 
though  harsh  and  obscure,  I  know  not  how  to  amend.  I  think  the  passage,  with 
less  alteration  [than  Hanmer's],  for  alteration  is  always  dangerous,  may  stand  thus — 
'  It  shows  to  men  the  tailors  of  the  earth,  comforting  them,'  etc.  Capell  (i,  28) : 
•  It '  stands  for — this  action  of  theirs :  His  *  tailors  *  are  women,  the  artificers  of  other 
women ;  and  in  that  lies  the  comfort  he  speaks  of ;  for  *  when  old  robes  are  worn 
out,*  that  is — when  an  old  wife  is  carried  to  her  grave,  *  there  are  members'  {videlicet^ 
of  the  community)  still  left  *  to  make  *  newer  and  fresher.  Malone  :  When  the 
deities  are  pleased  to  take  a  man's  wife  from  him,  this  act  of  theirs  makes  them 
appear  to  man  like  the  tailors  of  the  earth  :  affording  this  comfortable  reflection,  that 
the  deities  have  made  other  women  to  supply  the  place  of  his  fonner  wife ;  as  the 
tailor,  when  one  robe  is  worn  out,  supplies  him  with  another.  Anon.  [Kir. '21]  : 
The  meaning  is  this — *As  the  gods  have  been  pleased  to  take  away  your  wife 
Fulvia,  so  they  have  provided  you  with  a  new  one  in  Cleopatra  ;  in  like  manner  as 
the  tailors  of  the  earth,  when  your  old  garments  are  worn  out,  accommodate  you  with 
new  ones.  Hudson  :  *  Shews  *  them  to  him  in  the  sense,  probably,  of  sending 
him  to  them,  or  putting  him  upon  using  their  service.  The  shrewd  humourist  means 
to  insinuate,  I  take  it,  that  a  wife  of  long  standing  is  something  like  an  out-worn 
dress ;  and  that  a  change  every  little  while  in  that  behalf  is  as  pleasant  as  having  a 
new  suit  of  clothes.  Was  the  naughty  wag  an  advocate  of  free-love  ?  Antony  winces 
under  the  cutting  irony  of  his  talk.  Deighton  detects  in  *  there  are  members  *  a 
'probable  allusion  to  the  scriptural  narrative  of  Eve  being  made  out  of  one  of 


ACT  I,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA  41 

forting  therein,    that  when  olde  Robes  are  wome    out,         187 

there  are  members  to  make  new.    If  there  were  no  more 

Women  but  Ftdtdaj  then  had  you  indeede  a  cut,  and  the 

cafe  to  be  lamented:  This  greefe  is  crownM  with  Confo-         190 

lation,  your  old  Smocke  brings  foorth  a  new  Petticoate, 

and  indeed  the  teares  liue  in  an  Onion,  that  fhould  water 

this  forrow. 

Ant.     The  bufineflfe  fhe  hath  broached  in  the  State, 
Cannot  endure  my  abfence.  195 

Eno.  And  the  bufineffe  you  haue  broachM  heere  can- 
not be  without  you,  efpecially  that  of  Cleopatra^Sy  which 
wholly  depends  on  your  abode. 

AnL     No  more  light  Anfweres : 
Let  our  Officers  200 

Haue  notice  what  we  purpofe.     I  fhall  breake 
The  caufe  of  our  Expedience  to  the  Queene,  202 

188.  memb<rs\  rmmbers  Han.  197.  you,"] you;  Theob.  et  seq. 

190.  ca/g]  case  were  Rowe, +.  Cleopatra* j]  Cleopatra  Han. 

191.  foorth'\  fourth  F,.    forth  FJF  ,  198.  abode"]  aboad  F^F^,  Rowe,  Pope, 
194.  broached]    broached   Rowe    li,        Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

Pope,     brocuhid  Dyce.  199.  light]  like  Ff,  Rowe. 

196.  broached]  broached  Knt^  Coll.  199,  200.  One  line,  Rowe  et  seq. 

197.  be]  be  done  Anon.  ap.  Cam.  201.  purpofe]  propofe  F^F^. 

Adam's  ribs.  Orger  (p.  96)  :  Enobarbos,  I  fancy,  is  alluding  to  the  Destinies  or 
Fates  with  their  shears  and  thread,  and  grotesquely  calls  them  the  *  Tailors  of  the 
Earth,'  whose  business  it  is  to  mend  old  clothes,  or  make  new.  This,  I  think,  is 
foither  supported  by  words  following,  *Then  had  you  a  cut  indeed.'  I  would 
acoofdingly  propose  menders  for  'members.* 

189.  a  cut]  Thisklton  (p.  9)  :  This  word  has  here  a  double  meaning:  (i) 
stroke  or  blow;  (2)  shape  or  fashion, 

192.  teares  liue]  Walker  in  his  Article,  xa,  on  *  Lie  and  live  confounded  * 
(Crit.  ii,  209)  quotes  this  line,  and  adds,  « Surely  lie*  [Can  there  be  detected  an 
improvement  in  lie  over  *  live  *  ?  Indeed,  lie  lacks  the  active  vitality  which  seems 
inherent  in  *  live.'  Enobarbus  seems  to  be  unusually  familiar  with  the  effect  of  an 
onioo  on  the  lachrymal  glands.     He  refers  to  it  again  in  IV,  ii,  47. — Ed.] 

202.  Expedience]  Schmidt  {Lex.)  gives  to  this  word  the  two  meanings  of  i) 
haste  and  2)  expedition,  enterprise,  campaign  and  under  each  meaning  gives  two 
examples,  namely,  under  l) :  *are  making  hither  with  all  due  expedience.' — Rich. 
II:  II,  iy  287;  and  'will  with  all  expedience  charge  on  us.' — Hen,  V:  IV,  iii,  70. 
Under  2) :  'what  our  council  did  decree  in  forwarding  this  dear  expedience.' — / 
ffem,  IV:  I,  i,  33 ;  and  the  present  line.  So  nice  is  the  distinction  between  these 
two  meanings  that  it  is  not  easy  to  decide  that  the  present  instance  does  not  come 
voder  the  head  of  hcute. — Ed. 


42  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i.  sc.  iL 

And  get  her  loue  to  part.     For  not  alone  203 

The  death  of  Ftduia^  with  more  vrgent  touches 

Do  ftrongly  fpeake  to  vs  :  but  the  Letters  too  205 

Of  many  our  contriuing  Friends  in  Rome^ 

Petition  vs  at  home.     Sextus  Pampems  TOJ 

203.  loue\  love  Ff,  Rowe,  Cap.  Var.  205.  Do]  Doth  Han.     Dtfs  Heath. 
Ran.  Mai.  Steev.  Var.  Knt,  Coll.  i.  leave  to  vs]  fui  Pope, +. 

Pope,+,  Dyce,  Hal.  Wh.Coll.  ii,  iii(MS),  206.  contriuing]  continuing  Gould. 
Glo.  Sta.  Ktly,  Rife. 

203.  loue]  Capkll  (i,  28) :  Thej  who  alter* d  '  love '  into  leave  had  not  reflected 
sufficiently,  who  the  person  is  that  they  gave  it  to :  the  person  is  Antony ;  Antony 
coming  to  himself,  and  beginning  to  think  rather  seriously ;  who,  in  that  disposition, 
must  be  supposed  to  consider  his  own  dignity,  of  which  the  word  leave  is  an  evident 
breach ;  it  seems  indeed  to  have  been  avoided  with  some  study ;  and  *  love,*  a  less 
natural  expression,  substituted  for  it :  the  sense  we  must  take  the  words  in,  is  as  fol- 
lows : — and  get  her,  whose  love  is  so  great  for  me,  to  consent  to  my  parting.  Malonk  : 
If  the  old  copy  be  right,  the  words  must  mean,  I  will  get  her  love  to  permit  and 
endure  our  separation.  But  the  word  get  connects  much  more  naturally  with  the 
word  Uave  than  with  love.  The  same  error  has  happened  in  TU,  And.  and  there- 
fore I  have  no  longer  any  doubt  that  Uave  was  Shakespeare's  word.  In  that  play 
we  find :  *  He  loves  his  pledges  dearer  than  his  life,*  instead  of — *  He  leaves^ — [Hit 
i,  292.  Dyce  adopts  this  conclusion  of  Malone.]  Stekvkns  :  The  old  reading  may 
mean : — '  And  prevail  on  her  love  to  consent  to  our  separation.'  [Thus  Knight 
substantially.  The  original  text  is  not,  to  me,  sufficiently  obscure  to  justify  a  change. 
Capell's  reason  is  weighty,  and,  in  addition,  it  seems  somewhat  absurd  in  Anthony 
to  send  notice  to  his  officers  of  his  intention,  and  to  all  his  subordinates  of  his  *  quicke 
remoue  from  hence,*  and  then  to  say  that  he  would  get  Qeopatra*8  leave  to  depart. 
*  Durior  lectio  preferenda  est' — Ed.] 

204.  more  vrgent  touches]  Johnson  :  Things  that  touch  me  more  sensiUy, 
more  pressing  motives. 

206.  our  contriuing  Friends]  Walker  (Crit,  i,  163) :  'Contriving*  here  is  not 
managing  or  plotting^  but  sojourning:  conterentes  tempus.  See  Tarn,  Skr,  I,  iL 
Murray  (A''.  E,  D.  s.  v.  Contrive,  v».  obs.)  :  Apparently  irregularly  formed  on  Latin 
contrivif  pret  of  conterere  to  wear  away  ;  cf.  contrite^  contrition  ;  perhaps  associated 
by  translators  with  •  contrive*  to  invent,  etc.  Transitive,  To  wear  down,  wear 
away,  consume,  spend ;  to  pass,  employ  (time).  Cf.  *  Please  ye  we  may  contrive 
this  afternoon.*— Tbm.  Skr,  I,  ii,  276.  [The  context  is  not,  I  think,  in  Walker's 
favour.  It  was  not  for  the  sake  of  Anthony's  company  that  his  friends,  who  happened 
to  be  sojourning  in  Rome,  petitioned  him  at  home,  but  much  was  breeding  that  might 
endanger  the  sides  of  the  world,  and  Anthony's  presence  was  needed  to  encourage 
those  friends,  who  were  looking  after  his  interests.  This  seems,  I  think,  to  favour 
the  usual  meaning  of  'contriving.' — Ed.] 

206.  Rome]  Walker  (Crit,  i,  163):  Pkonounce  *Rome,'  as  usual,  Room;  this 
removes  the  jingle  between  *  Rome  *  and  *  home.* 

207.  Petition  vs  at  home]  Johnson  :  Wish  us  at  home ;  call  for  us  to  reside  at 
home. 


ACT  I.  sc.  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  43 

Haue  giuen  the  dare  to  Ca/arj  and  commands  208 

The  Empire  of  the  Sea.     Our  flippery  people, 

Whofe  Loue  is  neuer  linked  to  the  deferuer,  210 

Till  his  deferts  are  paft,  begin  to  throw 

Pampey  the  great,  and  all  his  Dignities 

Vpon  his  Sonne,  who  high  in  Name  and  Power, 

Higher  then  both  in  Blood  and  Life,  flands  vp 

For  the  maine  Souldier.     Whofe  quality  going  on,  215 

The  fides  oWworld  may  danger.     Much  is  breeding, 

Which  like  the  Couriers  heire,  hath  yet  but  life. 

And  not  a  Serpents  poyfon.     Say  our  pleafure. 

To  fuch  whofe  places  vnder  vs,  require 

Our  quicke  remoue  from  hence.  220 

ao8.  Haue\  Hath  Ff  et  seq.  Pope,  Theob.  i,  Han.  Waib.    Say  our 

the  dare]  thee  dare  Y^^,  pleasure  Johns.    Say^  our  pleasure  Vwc, 

209.  JUppery]  s&pfry  Rowe,  + .  '73.    Say^  our  pleasure,  Theob.  ii  et  cct. 

213.  Scmu,'\  Ff,  Rife,  son;  Rowe  219.  who/e  places]  whdve  places  VL, 
«t  cet.                                                             Mason. 

315.  puUity']  quality^  Cap.  et  seq.  places. ..require]  Ff,  Johns,  places 

116.  dth*]  oth*  Ff.  ...requires  Var.'72.    place  is.. .requires 

tlj.  heire]  hare  F^F^.    hair  Rowe.  Ff,  Rowe  et  cet 

218.  Say  our  plea/ure,]  Ff,  Rowe, 

210,  211.  Whose  Loue  . . .  deserts  are  past]  See  line  145,  above. 

214,  215.  stands  vp  For  the  maine  Souldier]  <  Stands  up '  is  here  used  as  in 
'We  stand  op  peerless,'  I,  i,  53.  For  other  instances  of  <  main,'  in  the  sense  o{  first 
iu  iw^ortance,  chief,  see  Schmidt,  Lex. 

216.  sides  o'th'world]  This  same  phrase  is  used  in  Cymb.  Ill,  i,  51,  also,  to 
dpress  the  Tastness  of  the  Roman  empire. 

217.  Coursers  heire]  Theobald  :  Holinshed  in  his  Description  of  England, 
[Third  booke,  Chap,  iii,  p.  224,  ed.  1587]  has  this  remark  :  'yet  it  is  beleeued  with 
no  lease  assurance  of  some,  than  that  an  horse  haire  laid  in  a  pale  full  of  the  like 
water  will  in  short  time  stirre  and  become  a  lining  creature.  But  sith  the  certeintie 
of  these  things  is  rather  prooued  by  few  than  the  certeintie  of  them  knowne  vnto 
nanie,  I  let  it  passe  at  this  time.'  Coleridge  (p.  317) :  This  is  so  far  true  to 
appearance,  that  a  horse-hair.  Maid,'  as  Holinshed  says,  Mn  a  pail  of  water,'  will 
become  the  supporter  of  seemingly  one  worm,  though  probably  of  an  immense  num- 
ber of  small  shiny  water-lice.  The  hair  will  twirl  round  a  finger,  and  sensibly  com- 
press it  It  is  a  common  experiment  with  school  boys  in  Cumberland  and  West- 
moreland. Hudson  (p.  20)  :  I  remember  very  well  when  the  same  thing  was 
believed  by  children  in  Vermont 

219.  places]  An  error  of  the  ear,  not  of  the  eye.— Ed. 

22a  Our  quicke  remoue]  Johnson  :  I  believe  we  should  read :  •  Their  quick 
remove.'  Tell  our  design  of  going  away  to  those,  who,  being  by  their  places  obliged 
to  attend  ns,  must  remove  in  haste. 


44 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  I,  sc.  iii. 


Enob,     I  fhall  doo't. 

\Scene  III.\ 

Enter  Cleopatra^  Charnuan^  AlexaSy  and  Iras. 

Cleo.    Where  is  he  ? 

Char.     I  did  not  fee  him  fince. 

Cleo.     See  where  he  is, 
Whofe  with  him,  what  he  does : 
I  did  not  fend  you.     If  you  finde  him  fad, 
Say  I  am  dauncing  :  if  in  Myrth,  report 
That  I  am  fodaine  ficke.     Quicke,  and  retume. 

Char.     Madam,  me  thinkes  if  you  did  loue  him  deerly. 
You  do  not  hold  the  method,  to  enforce 
The  like  from  him. 

Cleo.    What  fhould  I  do,  I  do  not  ? 


221 


5 


lO 


12 


221.  IJkatt^  rn  Pope,  +  .  Sir,  I 
Mtf// Words. 

dodt^  doct  F,.     do  it,  sir  Ktly. 
do  ii  Nicholson  ap.  Cam. 

Scene  IV.  Pope,  +  .  Scene  III.  Cap. 
etseq. 

The  same.     Another  Room.  Cap. 

[Tripods,  Vases  for  perfumes.  Grecian 
Statue  of  Antonywith  attributes  of  Her- 
odes,  Egyptian  Sofas,  Tables,  Chairs, 
Musical  Instruments,  Books  in  Rolls, 
Kemble. 


1.  Enter... Alexas,  and  Iras.]  Enter 
...Iras,  and  Alexas.  Cap. 

2.  he ?"]  he  now?  Sleev.   conj.     he, 
Charmian  f  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

3.  /]  Madam,  /Walker. 

4.  5.  One  line,  Rowe  et  seq. 

4.  [To  Alexas.  Sta. 

5.  Whofe'\  WhdsYi, 

7.  dauncing'\  dancing  F^F^. 

8.  fodaine"]  fudden  F,F^. 

Quicke]  Quickly  Ff,  Rowe. 
[Exit  Alexas.  Cap. 


3.  since]  Abbott  ({  62) :  <  Since '  when  used  adverbially  as  well  as  conjunction- 
ally,  frequently  takes  the  verb  in  the  simple  past  where  we  use  the  complete  present, 
[as  in  the  present  phrase].  This  is  in  accordance  with  an  original  meaning  of  the 
word,  later  {*  sith  * ).  We  should  still  say,  '  I  never  saw  him  afier  that ;  *  and  •  since ' 
has  the  meaning  of  after.  [See  also  {  347,  for  examples  of  the  simple  past,  *  did  *  for 
complete  present  with  <  since,'  etc.] 

4-8.  See  . .  .  sicke]  Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  126) :  The  whole  secret  of  her  absolute 
dominion  over  the  facile  Antony  may  be  found  in  this  one  little  speech.  [I  think 
that  this  assertion  is  a  little  too  sweeping.  In  mere  opposition  there  can  hardly  be 
'infinite  variety.*— Ed.] 

6.  I  did  not  send  jrou]  Johnson  :  You  must  go  as  if  you  came  without  my  order 
or  knowledge. 

9,  10.  if  you  did  .  .  .  You  do  not]  Deighton  :  The  irregular  sequence  of  tenses 
here  is  due  to  the  stress  which  Charmian  wishes  to  lay  upon  the  fact  that  Cleopatra 
could  not  possibly  love  Anthony ;  *  if  you  do  love  him  *  would  have  meant  *  if  you 
love,  which  is  possible,  though  doubtful  *  ;  •  if  you  did  love  *  means  *  if  you  loved, 
which  is  evidently  not  the  case.' 


ACT  1.  sc.  iiL]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  45 

C%.In  each  thing  giue  him  way^crofTe  him  in  nothing. 

Cleo.    Thou  teacheft  like  a  foolerthe  way  to  lofe  him. 

Char.    Tempt  him  not  fo  too  farre.     I  wifli  forbeare,  15 

In  time  we  hate  that  which  we  often  feare. 

Enter  Anthony. 
But  heere  comes  Anthony. 

Cleo.     I  am  ficke^  and  fuUen. 

An.     I  am  fony  to  giue  breathing  to  my  purpofe.  20 

Cleo.     Helpe  me  away  deere  Channian^  I  fliall  fall, 

14.  teacheft, .,fooU:^   teachest,  like  a  17.  Enter...]  After  line  1 9,  DjrcCjSta. 
fM^  Johns.  Coll.  i,ii,  Hal.  Sing.  Ktly.  19.  I  am\  Pm  Popc,  +  . 
ieackest,..foal, —  Dyce,  Sta.  2a  purpofe, '\  purpose^ —  Cap.  Coll. 

15.  wifli\  F(,  Johns,    /wis  Anon.  ap.  et  seq. 
Cam.     wisAf  Rowe  et  cet. 

14.  teachest  like  a  foole:the  way,  etc.]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  claims  for  his  ponc- 
tnation  (also  that  of  his  MS)  a  priority  over  all  editions ;  the  Text,  Nates  show  that 
it  had  been  adopted  by  Johnson.  Collier,  with  pardonable  zeal,  pronounces  the 
panctoation  of  his  MS  a  decided  improvement  on  that  of  the  Folio,  of  which,  he 
says, '  there  can  be  no  dispute  that  [its]  mode  of  pointing  the  passage  is  wrong,' — 
an  assertion,  on  the  port  of  a  veteran  editor,  so  strange,  that  though  it  stands  off  as 
gross  as  black  and  white,  my  eye  will  scarcely  see  it.  As  if  there  were  a  phrase,  a 
word,  a  comma  in  Shakespeare  about  which  '  there  can  be  no  dispute ' !  And, 
moreover.  Collier  was  unfortunate  in  making  so  extravagant  a  claim  for  his  MS  in 
this  passage,  of  all  passages,  where  the  majority  of  editors  in  favour  of  the  original 
punctuation  is  so  very  heavy.  The  majority  has  not  erred,  I  think.  Never  would 
Cleopatra  have  uttered  so  tame,  so  dispassionate  a  sentence  as  that  which  Collier  and 
his  MS  offer  to  us:  *  thou  teachest,  like  a  fool,  the  way  to  lose  him.'  If  the  Folio 
eiT  in  punctuation,  it  errs  on  the  side  of  moderation.  Instead  of  a  colon  after '  foole/ 
I  think  a  period  would  be  better. — Ed. 

15.  too  farre]  Abbott  ({  434)  holds  this  to  be  a  compound  epithet:  too-far. 
15.  wish  forbeare]  Staunton  :  That  is,  I  commend  forbearance.     Keightlky 

(Exp.  31 1):  'Wish'  here  signifies  recommend^  adi/ise.  I  think  we  should  read 
'wish^'tfM*  [so  reads  Keightley's  text],  as  it  is  always  followed  by  its  object  when 
used  in  this  sense.  John  Hunter  :  Forbear  is  my  wish.  The  verb  'forbear'  is 
here  in  the  imperative  mood.  Deighton  :  An  elliptical  expression  for  '  I  should 
like  to  see  yon  forbear  to  tiy  him  so  far.'  [The  paraphrases  just  given  are  all  of 
them  obyious,  but  none  of  them  supplies  the  strength,  which  the  weak  expression, 
'I  wish,  forbear'  lacks.  It  is  this  weakness,  this  childishness,  almost  infantile, 
which  renders  the  words  suspicious,  so  it  seems  to  me.  Nicholson's  conjecture, 
recorded  in  the  Cam.  Ed,^  'the  wish  forbear'  is  plausible,  and  is  certainly  stronger 
than  the  weak  'I  wish.'  It  is  better  than  his  alternative  conjecture,  'your  wish, 
forbear.'  Weakness  is,  however,  no  sufficient  ground  for  disturbing  the  text. — Ed.] 
19.  sullen]  Into  this  word  we  may  read  all  the  moods  most  unlovely  in  woman, 
from  waspishness  to  gloomy  malignity.  '  O  ! '  exclaims  Coleridge,  '  the  instinctive 
propriety  of  Shakespeare  in  the  choice  of  words.' — Ed. 


46  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  iiL 

It  cannot  be  thus  long^  the  fides  of  Nature  22 

Will  not  fuftaine  it. 

Ant.     Now  my  deereft  Queene. 

Cleo.     Pray  you  ftand  farther  from  mee.  25 

Ant.    What's  the  matter  ? 

Cleo.Y  know  by  that  fame  eye  therms  fome  good  news. 
What  fayes  the  married  woman  you  may  goe  ? 
Would  fhe  had  neuer  giuen  you  leaue  to  come.  29 

22.  [Seeming  to  fiuQt  Rowe,+.  26.  maiUr]  marter  ¥ ^, 

24.  deereft'\dearefiY^.     dereftY^,  28.  What^  What  I  Y^ 

Queene,  ]  Queen, —  Theob.  et  seq.  woman . .  .goe  /]   Ff.     woman  /. . . 

25.  farther] furtherStt^,VBx,  Dyce.         go;  Rowe  et  seq. 

27.  that  same  eye  ther's  some  good  news]  This  is  a  wiliiil  and  highly  irritating 
misinterpretation  of  Anthony's  expression.  His  looks  had  been,  of  coarse,  downcast, 
as  befitted  words  which  he  was  *  sorry  to  breathe.'  Qeopatra  had  instantly  divined 
his  *  porpose/  and  conjectured  the  purport  of  his  message  from  Rome ;  she  resolved, 
therefore,  that  before  Anthony  could  declare  it,  he  should  be '  chafed  *  almost  beyond 
endurance ;  then,  by  tenderly  yielding,  she  knew  that  she  could  bind  him  to  her 
more  strongly  than  ever.  She  begins,  accordingly,  by  wilfully  misinterpreting  his 
looks. — Ed. 

28.  What  sayes  the  married  woman  you  may  goe  ?]  Thiselton  (p.  9) :  To 
punctuate  this  line  as  it  is  done  both  in  the  Globe  and  Oxford  editions  is  to  spoO  the 
antithesis  between  it  and  the  next.  '  What '  is  exclamatory  and  expresses  surprise : 
(you  don't  mean  to  tell  me.'  It  is  to  be  observed  that  Qeopatra  as  yet  knows 
nothing  of  the  nature  of  the  news  from  Rome  which  had  aroused  Anthony.  She  had 
only  concluded  <  A  Romane  thought  hath  strooke  him '  from  a  sudden  subsidence  of 
his  mirth,  and  she  infers  that  the  news  probably  involves  his  speedy  departure,  and 
is  really  welcome  to  him  as  importing  reconciliation  with  Csesar.  Fulvia  and  Lucius 
had  been  at  war  with  the  latter,  and  Qeq>atra  believes  or  pretends  to  believe  that  it 
has  been  Fulvia's  wish  that  Anthony  should  keep  out  of  the  way,  and  that  it  was 
merely  owing  to  this  that  he  was  able  to  dance  attendance  on  herself.  [Rowe's 
division  of  the  line  seems  to  me  to  be  right ;  but  the  interrogation  mark  of  the  Folios 
at  the  end  should  have  been  retained.  The  line  contains  the  two  questions :  <  What 
says  the  married  woman  ? '  and,  in  effect,  *  Does  she  give  you  leave  to  go  ? '  Then 
follows  the  antithesis,  *  Would  she  had  never  given  you  leave  to  come  1 ' — Ed.] 

28,  29.  What  sayes  the  married  woman  .  . .  leaue  to  come]  Th.  Zieunski 
(Philologust  1905,  Bd.  Ixiv,  Hft.  i,  p.  17):  In  this  farewell  scene  between  Anthony 
and  Clec^tra  Shakespeare  had  in  mind  Ovid's  Epistle  of  Dido  to  ASneas,  First  of 
all,  the  situations  are  exactly  analogous,  as  every  one  may  see  at  once ;  even  the 
Poet  himself  acknowledges  it,  where  he  says :  '  Dido  and  her  MatAS  shall  want 
troops,'  etc.  IV,  xiv,  64.  Shakespeare's  Qeopatra  is  developed  psychologically,  not 
from  the  Vergilian,  but  from  the  Ovidian  Dido ;  from  the  latter  she  derives  her 
nervousness,  although  she  derives  from  the  English  poet, — or  rather  from  Plutarch, 
— that  fatal  admixture  of  instinctive,  foxlike  slyness,  which  Ovid's  heroine  lacks. 
Special  points  of  resemblance  the  student  will  find  for  himself;  the  most  noteworthy 


ACT  I,  sc.  iu.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA  47 

Let  her  not  fay  'tis  I  that  keepe  you  heere.  30 

I  haue  no  power  vpon  you  :  Hers  you  are. 

Ant.    The  Gods  bell  know. 

CUo.     Oh  neuer  was  there  Queene 
So  mightily  betrayed  :  yet  at  the  fitfl  , 
I  CeIw  the  Treafons  planted.  35 

Ant.     Cleopatra. 

Cleo.    Why  fhould  I  thinke  you  can  be  mine,  &  true^ 
(Though  you  in  fwearing  fhake  the  Throaned  Gods) 
Who  haue  beene  (alfe  to  Fuluia  ?  39 

32.  know,"]  knawi —  Theob.  et  seq.  36.  Cleopatra]    Cleopatra^ —  Theob. 

(sobs.)  et  seq. 

34.  betrayed'\  betray  dYo^^\,vtx\,  38.  in /wearing] /wearing  ¥1,    rviih 
fitjf\  F,.  swearing  Rowe,  4  . 

35.  Trea/om\  treason  Walker  (Crii,  Throa$ud]  F,.     Throned  Yf^, 
i,  146).                                                               39,  40.  One  line,  Rowe  et  seq. 

planted)  planned  Warb.  (N,  6*  39.  heene']  bin  F,. 

Qn.  Vni,  iii,  262). 

oocitrs  in  line  139  of  Grid's  Epistola  VII:  Dido  jEnea: — *Sed  jubet  ire  deus. 
Vellcm  vetnisset  adiie.'  [Undoubtedly,  in  this  one  solitary  line  there  is  foond  a 
notable  parallelism  between  Dido's  words  and  Cleopatra's;  but  the  antithesis  be- 
tween going  and  coming  is  in  itself  so  marked  that  it  might  almost  be  said  to  be  one 
of  dail  J  use.  As  to  the  '  special  points  of  resemblance  which  the  student  will  6nd  for 
himself,'  I  can  merely  humbly  acknowledge  that  I  have  scmtinized  closely  every 
line  of  Ovid's  Epistle,  and  if  there  be  another  parallelism  there,  it  has  escaped 
me.  Not  so,  however,  Zielinski ;  one  passage  there  is  whereto  he  detects  a 
second  parallel  in  this  present  scene.  The  passage  is,  I  suppose,  for  he  does  not 
specify  it : — '  Forsttan  et  gravidam  Dido,  scelerate,  relinquas,  Parsque  tui  lateat  cor- 
poie  clansa  meo.' — 123,  124.  This  *  clausa  pars'  Zielinski  finds  in  the  'one  word,' 
which  Cleopatra  is  at  a  loss  to  pronounce,  in  lines  108-1x3,  until  at  last  Zielinski 
leveols  it  for  her  in  '  Oh,  my  oblivion  is  a  very  Anthony, '  Thereupon,  after  a  little 
gentle  derision  of  the  commentators  for  their  obtuseness,  he  finds  further  confirmation 
where  Qeopatra  says,  '  'Tis  sweating  labour  To  bear  such  idleness  so  near  the  heart , 
As  Cleopatra  this, '  '  This,^  Zielinski  suggests,  was  accompanied  by  <a  discreet  sig- 
nificant gesture  ; '  deucriiui^f  as  Aristotle  has  it.  *  Verily,'  he  says,  in  conclusion, '  a 
poet  understands  a  poet  better  than  the  critics  understand  him ;  I  refer  to  Puschkin, 
who  has  openly  imitated  these  words  of  Cleopatra  in  a  passage  in  his  lovely  **  Nixe  " 
(Rnaalka) :  **Flirst,  Leb'  wohl — Mddchen.  Nein,  wart . . .  ich  muss  dir  etwas  sagen . . . 
Weiss  nimmer,  was.  FUrst,  So  denke  nach  1  Mddchen,  FQr  dich  Wftr  ich  bereit . . . 
Nein,  das  ist's  nicht ...  So  wart  doch.  Ich  kann's  nicht  glauben,  dass  du  mich  auf 
ewig  Verlassen  willst . . .  Nein,  dass  ist's  immer  nicht . .  .  Jetzt  hab'  ich's :  heut  war's, 
dass  mm  ersten  Mai  Dein  Kind  sich  unter'm  Herzen  mir  bewegte  .  .  .  '"  I  leave 
this  untranslated.  For  those  who  read  German,  a  translation  is  needless,  and  for 
those  who  do  not,  the  loss  is  less  than  trifling.  I  think  I  ought  to  add  that  Warburton 
appears  to  have  had  the  same  idea  as  Zielinski.  See  note  1 14-1 16  in/ra, — Ed.] 
31.  vpon]  For  the  various  uses  of  'upon,'  see  Abbott,  {  Z91. 


48  THE   TR AGED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc  iii. 

Riotous  madnefle,  40 

To  be  entangled  with  thofe  mouth-made  vowes. 
Which  breake  themfelues  in  fwearing. 

Ant.     Moft  fweet  Queene. 

CUo.     Nay  pray  you  feeke  no  colour  for  your  going, 
But  bid  farewell,  and  goe :  45 

When  you  fued  flaying, 
Then  was  the  time  for  words  :  No  going  then. 
Eternity  was  in  our  Lippes,  and  Eyes, 
Blifle  in  our  browes  bent :  none  our  parts  fo  poore. 
But  was  a  race  of  Heauen.     They  are  fo  ftill,  50 

Or  thou  the  greateft  Souldier  of  the  world. 
Art  tumM  the  greateft  Lyar. 

Ant.     How  now  Lady  ? 

Cleo.     I  would  I  had  thy  inches,  thou  (hould'ft  know 
There  were  a  heart  in  Egypt.  55 

40.  madnejjfe^  nuidness  I  Rowe,  Pope,  ^3^4*    ^^^^-^  ^^^  Rowe,  -H .    brows^  Han. 

Han.  bnnv^  bent^  Johns,     brows*  bent;  Cap. 

43.  Qtuem."]  Queen.  ¥^^,    Queen, —  et  cet 

Theob.  et  seq.  49.  none  our\  none  of  our  Han.  Ktly. 

45,  46.  One  line,  Rowe  et  seq.  50.  race^  ray  Han. 

49.  browes  bent  :'\  F,.     brows  bent:  $2.  g^reatefi"]  greater  Ff,  Jiowc,  "Popt. 

40.  Riotous  madnesse]  This  is  her  own  self-reproach. 

49.  browes  bent]  Steevens  :  That  is,  the  arch  of  the  eye-brows.  So,  in  ITing' 
John  :  *  Why  do  you  bend  such  solemn  brows  on  me  ?  * — IV,  ii,  90.  Schmidt 
(Z^x.  5.  V,  Bent.  3)  interprets  it  as  meaning  the  whole  forehead. 

49.  none  our  parts]  For  other  instances  of  the  use  of  certain  adjectives,  like 
'none,'  as  *  pronouns,  in  a  manner  different  from  modem  usage,*  see  Abbott,  §  12. 

50.  race  of  Heauen]  Warburton  :  That  is,  had  a  smack  or  flavour  of  heaven. 
Johnson  :  <  Race '  is  well  explained  by  Warburton ;  the  *  race '  of  wine  is  the  taste 
of  the  soil.  M ALONE  :  I  am  not  sure  the  poet  did  not  mean,  '  was  of  heavenly  origin.' 
John  Hunter  : '  Race '  is  a  suspicious  word  here,  for  which  I  would  venture  to  sub- 
stitute trace,  ...  It  should  be  remarked,  however,  that  *  race '  had  for  one  of  its 
meanings  smack  or  relish.  [Between  the  two  interpretations  of  Warburton  and 
Malone  subsequent  editors  have  been  pretty  evenly  divided.  Warburton  carelessly 
wrote  *  had  a  smack '  instead  of  <  was  a  smack  ;  *  possibly,  this  weakened  his  general 
acceptance,  but  needlessly,  I  think.  <  Race '  was  undoubtedly  applied,  in  Shake- 
speare's day,  to  the  flavour  of  wine.  Craigie  (iV.  E.  D.  s.  v.  Race,  sb.*  10)  gives 
among  others  a  quotation  from  Massinger:  'A  pipe  of  rich  Canary  ...  Is  it  of  the 
right  race.' — Niew  fVay,  I,  iii.  This  justifies  Warburton's  interpretation  oi  flavour. 
Geopatra  says,  in  effect,  there  was  no  single  feature,  however  insignificant,  but  was 
of  a  flavour,  or,  was  the  very  flavour  of  heaven.  The  objection  to  Malone' s  inter- 
pretation seems  to  me  to  lie  in  the  difficulty  of  accepting  any  one  single  feature  as 
a  *  race '  whether  of  heaven  or  of  earth. — Ed.] 


ACT  I,  sc.  ill]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  49 

Ant.     Heare  me  Queene  .•  56 

The  ftrong  neceflity  of  Time,  commands 
Our  Seruides  a-while  :  but  my  full  heart 
Remaines  in  vfe  with  you.     Our  I  taly, 

Shines  o're  with  ciuill  Swords ;  Sextus  Pompeius  60 

Makes  his  approaches  to  the  Port  of  Rome, 
Equality  of  two  Domefticke  powers, 
Breed  fcrupulous  faction  :  The  hated  growne  to  ftrength 
Are  newly  growne  to  Loue  2  The  condemned  Pompey^ 
Rich  in  his  Fathers  Honor,  creepes  apace  65 

Into  the  hearts  of  fuch,  as  haue  not  thriued 
Vpon  the  prefent  flate,whofe  Numbers  threaten,  67 

5S.  StruuUs\  services  Ff.  63.  Breed^  Ff,  Var.  *2i,  Dyce,  Glo. 

a'wkiU\  Tbeob.  ii,  Warb.  Johns.  Cam.  Whi  ii.     Breeds  Pope  et  ceL 

a  wkiU  Ff,  Cap.  Ran.  Mai.  Wh.  i.  awhile  hated,  „^rengtk]  hated, . .  ^strength, 

Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  i,  Han.  Steev.  CoIL  Rowe  et  seq. 

et  seq.  65.  Honorl  hommr  Yl, 

61.  approeuhes\  approches  F,.  apace'\  a  pace  F^F^. 

Rome^  Rome,  Rowe  et  seq.  66.  thriued  1  thrh^n  Rowe,  +  . 

59.  in  vse]  Johnson  :  The  poet  seems  to  allude  to  the  legal  distinction  between 
'  lue '  and  absolute  possession, 
60   cioiU  Swords]  That  is,  swords  drawn  in  civil  war. 

61.  Port  of  Rome]  Dyce  (  Gloss.)  That  is,  the  gate  of  Rome. 

62.  63.  Equality  . .  .  powers,  Breed]  '  Breed '  is  here  plural  by  attraction  from 
'powers.'  Abbott  ({  4x2)  calls  it  'confusion  by  proximity*  and  gives  many 
examples  to  which  more  could  be  added.  Compare,  '  the  voyce  of  all  the  Gods, 
Make  heauen  drowsie,'  etc. — Lov^s  Lab,  Lost,  of  this  edition,  where  the  subject  is 
discussed. — Ed. 

63.  Bcmpolous]  Schmidt  (Lex, )  That  is,  prying  too  nicely  into  the  merits  of 
either  cause.  Century  Dictionary  (s,  v.  2  f ;  where  the  only  example  is  the  present 
passage)  :  Given  to  making  objections ;  captious.  Hudson  :  The  opposing  parties 
were  rigidly  sifting  each  other's  claims, 

66.  as]  The  /  in  this  word,  which  is  distinct  in  the  almost  perfect  Reprint  of  F,, 
published  by  Booth,  is  reduced  to  a  mere  scratch  in  Staunton's  Photolithography  and, 
in  my  copy  of  the  original,  has  disappeared  altogether. — Ed. 

67.  present  state,  whose  Numbers  threaten]  Staunton  {Athen,  12  April, 
1873)  :  Should  we  not  read  (placing  a  period  after  '  present  state,*)  '  War's  numbers 
threaten'  ?  '  Numbers '  was  a  term  commonly  used  to  express  an  armed  force ;  and 
the  next  line, — *  quietness  grown  sick  of  rest/ — bespeaks  an  antithesis  between 
Peace  and  War.  Compare  the  whole  speech,  where  the  sentences  are  framed  short 
and  magniloquent,  to  imitate  the  '  Asiatic '  style,  which,  as  Shakespeare  learned  from 
Plutarch,  Antony  affected.     [See  Appendix,  Plutarch.')^ 

67.  whose  Numbers]  For  a  grammatically  interesting  discussion  of  the  Shake- 
spearian usage  of  relative  pronouns,  with  a  special  reference  to  the  use  of  that  and 
who,  which,  with  numerous  examples,  see  Franz,  {  206. 

4 


50  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  iu. 

And  quietneffe  growne  ficke  of  reft,  would  purge  68 

By  any  defperate  change  :  My  more  particular, 
And  that  which  moft  with  you  (hould  fafe  my  going,  70 

Is  Fuluias  death. 

CZf^.Though  age  from  folly  could  not  giue  me  freedom 
It  does  from  childifhnefTe.     Can  Fultda  dye? 

Ant     She's  dead  my  Queene. 
Looke  heere,  and  at  thy  Soueraigne  leyfure  read  75 

The  Garboyles  (he  awak'd  :  at  the  laft,  beft, 

70. /tf/r]/tft;^F^,Rowe.  jaA/^Theob.  76.  bgfi^']  Ff,  Johns.  Var. '73,  Coll. 

Pope  ii,  Han.  Warb.  Sta.  Ktly,  Wh.  i,  Rife,     best,  Rowe,+. 

75*  Soturaigne\  Souerarpu Sta.  Pho-  best:  Cap.  Var.  '78,  '85,  Mai.  Ran.  Steev. 
tolitk.  Var.  Knt,  Sing.  Dycc,  Glo.  Cam.  Wh. 

ii,  Irv.  Dtn.  Huds. 


68.  purge]  Schmidt  (Lex.) :  That  is  (thus  used  intransitively),  to  be  cured,  to 
be  restored  to  health. 

69.  more  particular]  That  is,  what  is  more  especially  my  own  personal,  private 
reason.  This  is  an  unusual  use  of  the  comparative.  Murray  {N.  E.  D,  s.  v.  Ill, 
B,  t  6)  quotes  from  the  6rst  line  of  Heminge  and  CondelPs  Epistle  DediccUorit  in 
the  First  Folio :  '  Whilst  we  studie  to  be  thankful  in  our  particular,'  etc.  Schmidt 
(Lex.)  gives  '  who  loved  him  in  a  most  dear  particular, — Ccr.  V,  i,  3,  where  it  is 
•  dear'  that  is  compared,  not  *  particular.'  See  IV,  iz,  24,  <  in  thine  own  particular,' 
where  it  means,  <  in  thine  own  special  person.' — Ed. 

70.  should  safe  my  goixig]  Abbott  (§  290)  :  It  may  be  said  that  any  noun  or 
adjective  could  be  converted  into  a  verb  by  the  Elizabethan  authors,  generally  in  an 
active  signification  [as  *  safe '  in  this  present  line,  where  the  meaning  is],  *  make  my 
departure  unsuspected  by  you  of  dangerous  consequences.' 

73.  Can  Fuluia  dye?]  Steevens  :  That  Fulvia  was  mortal,  Cleopatra  could  have 
no  reason  to  doubt ;  the  meaning  therefore  of  her  question  seems  to  be :  *  Will  there 
ever  be  an  end  of  your  excuses  ?  As  often  as  you  want  to  leave  me,  will  not  some 
Fulvia,  some  new  pretext  be  found  for  your  departure  ? '  She  has  already  said  that 
though  age  could  not  exempt  her  from  follies,  at  least  it  freed  her  from  a  childish 
belief  in  all  he  says.  Ritson  :  I  am  inclined  to  think,  that  Cleopatra  means  no 
more  than — Is  it  possible  that  Fulvia  should  die  ?  I  will  not  believe  it  Malone  : 
Though  age  has  not  exempted  me  from  folly,  I  am  not  so  childish,  as  to  have  appre- 
hensions from  a  rival  that  is  no  more.  And  is  Fulvia  dead  indeed  ?  Such,  I  think, 
is  the  meaning.  Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  128)  :  Cleopatra  recovers  her  dignity  for  a 
moment  at  the  news  of  Fulvia' s  death,  as  if  roused  by  a  blow.  And  then  follows 
the  artful  mockery  with  which  she  tempts  and  provokes  him,  in  order  to  discover 
whether  he  regrets  his  wife.  [It  is  extremely  difficult  to  decide  on  which  one  of 
these  three  words  the  emphasis  should  be  laid  ;  each  can  appropriately  bear  it.  It 
18  even  more  difficult  than  Lady  Macbeth*  s,  *  We  fail !  *  Possibly,  none  should  be 
emphasized,  but  each  uttered  slowly,  after  a  pause,  as  though  the  speaker  were 
revolving  many  things  in  her  mind. — Ed.] 

76.  Qarboyles]  Bradley  (M  E.  D.  s.  v.)  :  (An  adaptation  of  Old  French  gar- 


ACT  I,  sc.  iii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  5 1 

See  when^and  where  ihee  died.  77 

Cleo.     O  mod  ialfe  Loue  I 
Where  be  the  Sacred  VioUes  thou  (hould'ft  fill  79 

79.  ViolUs\  viols  Ff.     vials  Pope. 

houil^  garlnmUU  (  »  Spanish  garbuUo)^  adaptation  of  Italian  garbuglio  connected  with 
Latin  bulHre^  to  boil ;  the  origin  of  the  prefixed  element  is  disputed.)  Confusion, 
disturbance,  tumult ;  an  instance  of  this,  a  brawl,  hubbub,  hurly-burly. 

76.  at  the  last,  best,]  Steevens  :  This  conjugal  tribute  to  the  memory  of  Fulvia 
may  be  illustrated  by  Malcolm's  eulogium  on  the  Thane  of  Cawdor :  <  nothing  in 
his  life  Became  him,  like  the  leaving  it/ — I,  iv,  7.  Boswell  :  Surely  it  means  her 
death  was  the  best  thing  I  have  known  of  her,  as  it  checked  her  garboils.  Irving 
Edition  :  Antony  evidently  means  either,  <  in  the  last  part  of  the  letter  is  the  best 
news,'  or  'the  best  thing  she  ever  did  was  her  last  act,  that  is,  her  leaving  me.* 
RoLFE:  These  words  probably  refer  to  the  last  part  of  the  letter,  or  that  giving  the 
good  news  of  Fulvia's  death.  Staunton  :  The  commentators  will  have  the  word 
'best'  to  relate  to  the  *good  end'  made  by  Fulvia.  But  It  is  no  more  than  an 
epithet  of  endearment  which  Anthony  applies  to  Qeopatra ; — ^read  at  3rour  leisure  the 
trouble  she  awakened ;  and  then  at  the  last,  my  best  aue^  see  when  and  where  she 
died.  [Of  course,  after  '  best '  Staunton's  text  has  the  comma,  of  the  Folio.]  Staun- 
TOH  {Athen,  12  April,  1873):  Very  many  years  ago  I  protested  against  the  error 
modem  editors  had  conmiitted  in  altering  the  punctuation  of  the  old  copy  by  pladng 
a  colon  or  semi-colon  after  '  best,'  and  interpreting  it  to  mean  that  Fulvia's  death 
was  the  most  becoming  act  of  her  life ;  or  that  the  intelligence  of  her  decease  was 
the  best  part  of  the  news.  I  showed  conclusively,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  that '  best ' 
in  this  place  was  simply  a  term  of  endearment,  like  '  sweet,'  or  '  love,*  or  '  dear ; ' 
the  constraction  being, — *  read  in  these  letters  all  the  turmoils  she  provoked,  and,  at 
the  last,  my  best  one,  read  when  and  where  she  died.'  It  seemed  to  me  incredible 
that  there  could  be  any  question  as  to  this,  the  obvious  meaning,  being  accepted  as 
the  true  one,  when  it  was  once  explained.  I  did  not  then  know  that  young  ignorance 
and  old  prejudice  were  not  the  only  or  the  worst  foes  a  modem  restoration  of  Shake- 
speare's language  had  to  overcome.  I  had  to  leam  that  the  most  implacable  opponents 
of  an  improvements  in  Shakespeare's  text  in  these  days  were  to  be  found  among 
Shakespeare's  editors.  This  use  of  '  best,'  or  of  analc^us  epithets,  is  very  common 
with  our  early  poets.  Compare — « but  that  I  love  thee,  best,  O  most  best!  believe  it' 
— HamUt^  III,  ii ;  '  Gallus,  Tibullus,  and  the  best-best  Caesar.' — ^Jonson's  Poetaster, 
y,  i ;  « Believe  me,  Philomuse,  i'  faith  thou  must,  The  best-best  scale  of  wit  is  wit's 
distrust.' — Introd.  to  Marston's  What  you  Will;  'Be  she  with  that  goodness  blest 
Which  may  merit  name  of  best,* — George  Wither' s  song,  ^ Shall  /wasting  in  despair; 
* — kind,  forgive  me:  Make  me  not  sick  in  health.' — The  Revenger's  Tragedy; 
• — But,  last,  good,  thy  humour.' — Induct,  to  Marston's  Antonio  and  Mellida,  where 
the  tnm  of  expression  is  precisely  the  same  as — '  at  the  last,  best,  see  when,'  etc. 
[Staunton  overlooked  Florizel's  enamoured  words  *  When  you  do  speak,  sweet,  I'ld 
have  you  do  it  ever '  ?  Had  we  only  dutifully  followed  the  Folio,  and  disregarded 
Capell's  unfortunate  colon,  there  would  never  have  been,  I  think,  any  doubt  as  to 
the  comprehension  of  Anthony's  epithet '  best,'  which  hannonizes  with  his  eagerness 
to  propitiate  her  whom  he  had  already  called  his  '  Queen.' — Ed.] 

79.  Sacred  Violles]  Johnson:  Alluding  to  the  lachrymatory  vials,  or  bottles  of 


52  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  i.  sc.  iii. 

With  forrowfull  water  ?  Now  I  fee,  I  fee,  80 

In  Fuluias  death,  how  mine  receiu'd  (hall  be. 

Ant     Quarrell  no  more,  but  bee  prepared  to  know 
The  purpofes  I  beare  :  which  are,  or  ceafe, 
As  you  (hall  giue  th'aduice.     By  the  fire 

That  quickens  Nylus  flime,  I  go  from  hence  85 

Thy  Souldier,  Seruant,  making  Peace  or  Warre, 
As  thou  affefls. 

Cleo.     Cut  my  Lace,  Channian  come. 
But  let  it  be,  I  am  quickly  ill,  and  well, 
So  Anthony  loues.  90 

81.  receU^ d Jhall be\  shaU  be  recM d  86.  Souldier^  Seruant'] soldier-servant 

RowCy  +  y  Cap.  Sta.  Coll.  iii. 

84.  M' <«/«««]  M'«/ot<:«  Pope, +  , Cap.  87.  affeifls"]  affectft  F,.  affecfjl  F^F^ 
tkem  aidance  Anon.  ap.  Cam.  et  seq. 

By\  Now  by  Stecv.  Var.  '73,  '78.  89,  90.  well^  So'\   well^—So  Theob. 

85.  ^tm^]  xifff^  Rowe  ii  (misprint).  well :  So^'Vfzib,  well, — 5^9,  Johns,  toell: 

So  Var.  '78,  85,  Mai.  Steev.  Var. 

tears,  which  the  Romans  sometimes  p«t  into  the  urn  of  a  friend.  Halliwell  : 
These  vials  are  now  known  to  be  unguent  bottles. 

80,  81.  I  see,  .  .  .  shaU  be]  This  rhyme  grates.  One  cannot  but  admire  Rowe's 
courage  in  evading  it 

84.  th'aduice.  By]  Abbott  ({  508)  in  order  to  complete  the  metre,  suggests, 
what  is  most  true,  that  <  a  pause,  perhaps,  may  be  expected  before  an  oath,'  but 
immediately  ruinates  the  good  suggestion  by  adding :  '  but  **  vice  "  or  *<  by  "  may  be 
prolonged.'  It  were  better  far,  brazenly  to  insert,  like  Steevens,  a  superfluous  Now, 
or  even  a  whole  Dictionary,  than  weakly  to  quaver  out  <  vice '  or  '  By.' — Ed. 

87.  affedts]  Walker  {Crit.  ii,  128)  in  his  Article  to  show  that  *  j  is  not  infre- 
quently substituted  for  st  in  the  second  person  singular  of  the  verb '  has  the  follow- 
ing: <  Qfutre,  therefore,  in  cases  where  st  would  produce  extreme  harshness,  and 
where  at  the  same  time  the  old  copies  have  s,  whether  we  ought  not  to  write  the 
latter.  (In  the  north  of  England,  and  in  Scodand  (see,  for  example.  Bums  passim), 
s  for  st  in  the  second  person  seeBis  to  be  the  rule.)*  [The  propriety  of  Walker's 
suggestion  can  hardly  be  questioned,  I  think.  There  are  instances  where  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  pronounce  the  full  form  in  st  and  at  the  same  time  impart  any  smooth- 
ness whatever  to  the  verse.  In  the  well-known  line  where  Hamlet  asks  the  Ghost 
why  *  thou  dead  corse  again  in  complete  steel  J^evisitest  thus  the  glimpses  of  the 
moon,'  can  cacophony  further  go  ?  Thus  to  pronounce  these  two  words  is  to  pay  too 
dear  a  price  for  grammar.  Again  in  Lear,  where  the  old  demented  king  sajrs  '  thou 
body  lustest  to  use.'  In  both  cases  we  are  forced  to  use  the  forms  in  the  Folio  and 
say  '  Revisits  thus '  and  *  lusts  to.'  Thus,  too,  in  the  present  line,  an  ear  that  would 
shrink  under  <  affects '  for  affectest  is  too  grammatical  to  be  of  use  to  anybody,  much 
less  to  its  owner.  When  Heine  said  that  to  his  ears  the  English  language  sounded 
like  the  harsh  notes  of  sea-mews,  I  think  he  must  have  had  in  memory  some  of  the 
second  person  singulars  of  verbs  ending  in  t, — Ed.] 

89,  90.  and  well,  So  Anthony  loues]  Capell  (p.  29)  :   Meaning — such  is 


ACT  I,  sc.  iu.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  53 

Ant.     My  precious  Queene  forbeare,  91 

And  giue  true  euidence  to  his  Loue,  which  flands 
An  honourable  Triall. 

Cleo.     So  Fuluia  told  me.  94 

92.  euiiUnce]  credence  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS),  Wh.  L    audience  L.  Campbell  ap.  Cam. 

Antony's  lore ;  fluctuating  and  subject  to  sudden  turns,  like  my  health.  [Of  recent 
editors,  Staunton  and  Hudson  are  the  only  ones  who  adopt  this  interpretation.} 
Malonk  :  [At  one  time]  I  thought  this  to  be — '  My  fears  quickly  render  me  ill ;  and 
I  am  as  quickly  well  again,  when  I  am  convinced  that  Antony  has  an  affection  for 
me.'  'So'  for  so  thai.  If  this  be  the  true  sense  of  the  passage,  it  ought  to  be 
r^[alated  thus : — '  I  am  quickly  ill, — and  well  again,  so  Antony  loves.'  [The  inter- 
I^etation  which  Malone  rejected  is  that  which  has  been  generally  adopted.  Knight 
accepts  it ;  CoLUKR  also,  adding :  *  First  Cleopatra  tells  Charmian  to  cut  her  lace, 
then  **  to  let  it  be,"  the  necessity  being  at  an  end,  in  consequence,  perhaps,  of  receiv- 
ing some  indication  of  love  from  Antony.'  Irving's  Ed.,  Driguton,  and  Rolfe 
all  adopt  Malone' s  discarded  interpretation.  In  the  use  of  the  indicative  '  loves,' 
instead  of  the  subjunctive,  Abbott  (§  363)  discerns  such  complete  assurance  on 
Cleopatra's  part,  that  he  is  inclined  to  consider  *  So '  as  '  almost '  equivalent  to  since. 
Had  we  only  closed  our  eyes  to  Warburton's  colon,  Steevens's  semi-colon,  and  John- 
son's full  stop,  and  opened  them  on  the  comma  of  the  Folio,  no  doubts  would  have 
ever  beclouded  our  minds.  To  me,  the  simple  meaning  is  that  whether  she  is  ill  or 
well  depends  entirely  on  Anthony's  love. — Ed.] 

92.  euidence]  Coluer  (ed.  ii) :  There  can  be  no  hesitation  in  adopting  here  the 
excellent  emendation  of  the  MS,  viz.:  credence  for  '  evidence ' ;  it  suits  both  measure 
and  meaning  admirably ;  for  the  sake  of  the  metre  *  evidence '  [must  be  pronounced] 
etfdenee,  Cleopatra  was  not  to  give  evidence,  but  belief,  to  the  affection  of  Antony. 
S1N6E&  (SA.  Vind.  289)  :  The  substitution  of  credence  would  be  specious,  but  that 
the  occurrence  of  <  trial,'  in  the  next  line,  shows  that  the  old  text  is  right  Cleopatra 
had  just  cast  a  doubt  on  Antony's  love ;  he  bids  her  give  <  true  evidence '  in  favour 
of  it,  not  bear  false  witness  against  it,  as  she  had  done,  Dyce  (Strict.  201)  quotes 
with  approval  this  note  of  Singer,  and  adds:  Compare  •Proceed  no  straiter  'gainst 
our  uncle  Gk>ster  Than  from  frue  evidence,'  etc— ^  I/en,  VI:  III,  ii.  *  Give  true 
evidence '  is  « Bear  true  witness ; '  but  what  is  « Give  true  credence '  ?  Staunton  : 
Mr  Collier's  annotator  .  . .  would  poorly  read  credence,  which,  like  many  of  his  sug- 
gestions, is  very  specious  and  quite  wrong.  The  meaning  of  Antony  is  this, — « For- 
bear these  taunts,  and  demonstrate  to  the  world  your  confidence  in  my  love  by  sub- 
mitting it  freely  to  the  trial  of  absence.' 

92.  to  his]  Walker  (  Vers.  77)  recommends  that  these  two  words  should  be 
written,  ids.  Could  Walker  have  vainly  imagined  that  by  writing  these  words  thus 
the  rhythmical  flow  of  the  line  would  be  promoted  ?  If  tds  represents  one  sound, 
why  should  it  not  be  written  honesdy  tos  f  Does  not  the  apostrophe  by  indicating  an 
omission  equally  indicate  a  pause  long  enough  to  show  that  tds  is  not  tos  f  And  if 
there  is  to  be  a  pause,  however  brief,  it  is  a  pause  long  enough  to  give  a  breathing 
and  say  to  his.  No  flow  of  rhythm  can  compensate,  to  my  ear  at  least,  for  such  slip- 
shod pronunciation  of  English  as  tds.  —Ed. 

94.  So  Fuluia  told  me]  It  is  not,  of  course,  to  be  supposed  that  Fulvia  ever  told 


54  ^^^   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i.  sc.  iii. 

I  piythee  tume  afide,  and  weepe  for  her,  95 

Then  bid  adiew  to  me,  and  fay  the  teares 
Belong  to  Egypt.     Good  now,  play  one  Scene 
Of  excellent  diflembling,  and  let  it  looke 
Like  perfeft  Honor. 

AnL     You'l  heat  my  blood  no  more?  lOO 

Cleo.     You  can  do  better  yet  :  but  this  is  meetly. 

AnL     Now  by  Sword. 

Cleo.    And  Target.     Still  he  mends. 
But  this  is  not  the  beft.     Looke  prythee  Chamdatij 
How  this  Herculean  Roman  do's  become  105 

The  carriage  of  his  chafe. 

100.  blood  no  moreK^  blood;  no  more,  Johns.  Cap.  Var.  Mai.  Steev.  Var.  Knt, 

Rowe  et  seq.  (subs.)  Sing. 

102.  by  Sword,'\bymy  Sword.  Ft  by  io6,  107.  The,..Lady'\  As  one  line, 
my  sword —  Rowe  et  seq.  Steev.  Var.  Knt. 

103.  Target,^  largely  Theoh,  Warb.  106.  cAa/e}  chief  SAjbl.  Hunter. 

Cleopatra  this,  or  anything  else.  It  was  Cleopatra's  cutting  and  cruel  way  of  telling 
Anthony  at  how  high  a  rate  his  treatment  of  Fulvia  had  led  her  to  prize  his  love. 
Fulvia  had  experienced  Anthony's  <  honourable  trial ;'  and  Fulvia' s  experience  pro- 
claimed Cleopatra's;  tears  shed  for  Fulvia  should  be  Qeopatra's  'true  evidence  to 
his  love.' — Ed. 

97.  to  Egypt]  Johnson  :  To  me,  the  Queen  of  Egypt 

98.  let  it]  Abbott  (§  472)  :  So  strong  was  the  dislike  to  pronouncing  two  dental 
syllables  together,  that  '  it '  seems  nearly  or  quite  lost  after  '  let'  [in  the  present  line. 
To  the  same  effect  Walker,  Vers.  77.] 

103.  Still  he  mends]  This  speaking  of  Anthony  in  the  third  person  implies  the 
calm  critical  eye  of  a  disinterested  spectator,  pronouncing  on  the  excellence  of  the 
performance  with  judicial  coolness, — unspeakably  irritating  when  the  victim's  blood 
is  seething. — Ed. 

104.  Looke  prythee  Charmian]  This  appeal  to  Charmian  is  virtually  turning 
Anthony  into  a  public  exhibition  ;  and  proves  the  limit  of  his  endurance. — Ed. 

105.  Herculean  Roman]  Steevet^  :  Anthony  traced  his  descent  from  Anton, 
a  son  of  Hercules.     [See  Appendix ^  Plutarch. "] 

106.  chafe]  Staunton  :  Can  any  one  who  considers  the  epithet  *  Herculean,' 
which  Cleopatra  applies  to  Antony,  and  reads  the  following  extract  from  Shake- 
speare's authority,  hesitate  for  an  instant  to  pronounce  < chafe'  a  silly  blunder  of  the 
transcriber  or  compositor  for  chief  meaning  Hercules,  the  head  or  principal  of  the 
house  of  the  Antonii  ?  [Here  follows  the  passage  from  Plutarch,  referred  to  in  the  pre- 
ceding note.  Twenty  years  later,  Staunton  {Alhen.  12  April,  1873)  upheld  his  emen- 
dation, and  closed  his  remarks,  in  substance  the  same  as  in  his  note  just  given,  with 
the  assertion  that  Shakespeare  *  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Cleopatra  the  stinging  taunt, 
— "  How  this  Herculean  Roman  does  become  the  carriage  of  his  chief."  A  sarcasm 
which  is  rendered  absolutely  pointless  by  the  fatuous  reading  of  the  old  text. ']  HUD- 
SON :  This  is  obscure.    But  Cleopatra  here  assumes  that  Anthony  is  but  playing  a 


ACT  I,  sa  iiL]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  5  5 

Ant.     He  leaue  you  Lady.  107 

Cleo.     Courteous  Lord,  one  word : 
Sir,  you  and  I  mud  part,  but  that's  not  it : 
Sir,  you  and  I  haue  lou'd,  but  there's  not  it :  no 

That  you  know  well,  fomething  it  is  I  would : 
Oh,  my  Obliuion  is  a  very  Anthony ^ 
And  I  am  all  forgotten.  113 

no,  III.  but„.W€ll^    {ha.„weUf)  113.  all  forgotten\  aU-forgotten  Cap. 

Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Var.  '78,  Ran.     all  forgetting  Theob. 

III.  Iwould:'\  would^ —  Cap.  et  seq.        conj.  (withdrawn). 

part ;  that  his  passion  is  pat  on  for  effect  So,  if  the  text  be  right,  the  meaning,  I 
think,  must  be, '  look  how  well  he  carries  out  the  resemblance  or  make-believe  of 
keing  chafed  at  my  words.'  Deighton  :  That  is,  see  what  full  justice  he  does  to  the 
part  he  has  to  play  of  being  in  a  rage ;  how  well  he  carries  out  his  assumed  rOle. 
Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  130) :  This  is,  indeed,  most  *  excellent  dissembling  ; '  but  when 
she  has  fooled  and  chafed  the  Herculean  Roman  to  the  verge  of  danger,  then  comes 
that  retam  of  tenderness  which  secures  the  power  she  has  tried  to  the  utmost,  and  we 
have  all  the  elegant,  the  poetical  Qeopatra  in  her  beautiful  farewelL  [Although 
these  words  are  a  part  of  the  irritating  appeal  to  Charmian,  yet  they  give  in  one  par- 
ticular word  the  first  hint  that  Cleopatra  is  relenting  and  that  her  mood  is  changing. 
In  her  very  next  speech  she  is  utterly  subdued  and  is  the  gentle,  caressing,  heart- 
broken queen,  whose  very  soul  is  lost  and  forgotten  in  Anthony.  It  would  be  unnatu- 
ral to  represent  this  change  as  taking  place  as  swift  as  the  lightning  in  the  collied 
night,  as  it  would  be  were  it  preceded  by  a  *  stinging  taunt'  and  'sarcasm.*  The 
indication  of  a  change,  which  though  swift,  is  still  gradual,  lies  in  the  word  *  chafe,' 
— ^it  is  Qeopatra' s  confession  that  she  has  been  merely  teasing ;  when  she  speaks  in 
earnest  she  lacks  words  to  tell  her  love,  but  hitherto  it  has  been  mere  fun — <  Look, 
Charmian,'  she  says,  in  effect,  'how  becoming  it  is  to  this  Herculean  Roman  to 
have  to  bear  a  little  teasing;'  or,  in  modem  slang  (perilously  near  'chafe')  'to 
bear  a  little  chaff. ^  Qi  course,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that,  however  bewitching  the 
smile  which  accompanies  these  words,  Anthony  is  at  once  appeased.  No  man  likes 
to  be  told  that  he  has  been  teased,  although  teasing  is  better  than  venom.  So  Anthony 
is  dignified  and  calls  Cleopatra  '  lady '  and  is  almost  ludicrously  sarcastic  in  his  next 
speech.     But, — he  is  limed.     The  'infinite  variety'  has  triumphed. — Ed.] 

1x2,  113.  Oh,  my  Obliuion  .  .  .  forgotten]  Hanmer  :  'All  forgotten'  is  an  old 
way  of  speaking  for,  apt  to  forget  everything,  Capell  (i,  29)  :  Intimating  by  this 
expression, — that  Anton3r's  oblivion  was  something  more  than  even  oblivion  itself; 
the  hemistich  that  follows  may  be  explain' d  in  these  words  ; — and  the  memory  I  once 
had  is  all  a  blot.  Johnson  :  It  was  her  memory,  not  her  oblivion,  that  like  Antony 
was  deserting  her.  I  think  a  slight  change  will  restore  the  passage.  The  Queen, 
having  something  to  say,  which  she  is  not  able,  or  would  seem  not  able  to  recollect, 
cries  out,  '  O  my  oblivion  I — '  Tis  a  very  Antony.*  The  thought  of  which  I  was  in 
quest  is  a  very  Antony,  is  treacherous  and  fugitive,  and  has  irrevocably  left  me. 
'  And  I  am  all  forgotten.'  If  this  reading  stand,  I  think  the  explanation  of  Hanmer 
must  be  received.  But  I  will  venture  another  change,  by  reading, '  And  I  am  ally^- 
gene^     I  am  all  deserted  and  undone.     Steevens  :  Cleopatra  has  something  to  say, 


56  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  iii. 

Ant.     But  that  your  Royalty 
Holds  IdlenefTe  your  fubiefl^  I  (hould  take  you  115 

For  IdlenefTe  it  felfe. 


which  seems  to  be  suppressed  by  sorrow ;  and  after  many  attempts  to  produce  her 
meaning,  she  cries  out :  *  O,  this  oblivious  memory  of  mine  is  as  false  and  treacherous 
to  me  as  Antony  is,  and  I  forget  everything.'  Oblivum^  I  believe,  is  boldly  used 
for  a  memory  apt  to  be  deceitful,  .  .  .  Mr  Edwards  has  proposed  in  his  MS  notes :  '  Oh 
me  !  oblivion  is  a  very  Antony,'  etc.  Henley  :  Perhaps  nothing  is  more  necessary 
here  than  a  change  of  punctuation ;  O  my  !  being  still  an  exclamation  frequently  used 
in  the  west  of  England.  M.  Mason  :  The  sense  of  the  passage  appears  to  me  to  be 
this :  *  O,  my  oblivion  1  as  if  it  were  another  Antony,  possesses  me  so  entirely,  that 
I  quite  forget  m3rself.'  [Steevens's  paraphrase  of  <  my  oblivion  is  a  very  Antony '  is 
possibly  just ;  but  may  it  not  be  that  Qeopatra  means  that  she  is  so  utterly  lost,  heart 
and  soul  and  mind  and  strength,  in  Anthony,  that  even  her  forgetfulness  is  become  a 
part  of  him,  and  that  her  own  individual  self  is  all  forgotten  ?  See  V,  ii,  io6. — Ed.] 
114-116.  But  that ...  it  selfe]  Warburton  :  That  is.  But  that  jrour  charms 
hold  me,  who  am  the  greatest  fool  on  earth,  in  chains,  I  should  have  adjudged  you 
to  be  the  greatest.  That  this  is  the  sense  is  shown  by  her  answer :  <  'Tis  sweating 
labour.  To  bear  such  idleness  so  near  the  heart.  As  Cleopatra  this — .'  Heath  (p. 
450)  :  I  apprehend  the  sense  is  this ;  Ant,  If  I  were  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
you  to  know,  that  you  have  so  perfect  a  command  of  your  own  disposition,  as  to  be 
able  to  put  on  or  dismiss  idleness,  or  childish  frowardness,  at  pleasure,  I  should  take 
you,  from  your  present  behaviour,  for  childishness  itself.  Cleo.  As  much  idleness  as 
you  are  pleased  to  call  my  present  disposition,  it  is  sweating  labour  to  bear  such  idle- 
ness so  near  the  heart,  as  I  do  this  which  you  reproach  me  with.  Capsll  (i,  29)  :  Did 
I  not  know,  says  Antony,  what  a  mistress  3rou  are  in  the  arts  of  dissembling,  and  of 
counterfeiting  any  idle  humour  3rou  please,  I  should  take  the  wantonness  of  3roQr 
present  behaviour  for  real  wantonness,  and  accuse  you  of  little  feeling ;  and  with  this 
interpretation,  the  answer  of  Cleopatra  quadrates  perfecdy ;  for  it  amounts  to  an 
avowal — that  she  had  indeed  been  acting  a  part,  and  that  with  the  greatest  con- 
straint, and  most  painfully  to  herself ;  her  motive,  as  she  would  have  it  thought, — to 
keep  up  Antony's  spirits,  and  her  own,  in  such  a  trying  juncture  as  this  of  their 
parting.  Steevkns  :  Warburton' s  explanation  is  a  very  coarse  one.  The  sense 
may  be : — But  that  your  queenship  chooses  idleness  for  the  subject  of  your  conver- 
sation, I  should  take  you  for  idleness  itself.  Or  an  antithesis  may  be  designed  between 
royalty  and  subject.  But  that  I  know  you  to  be  a  queen,  and  that  your  royalty  holds 
idleness  in  subjection  to  you,  exalting  you  far  above  its  influence,  I  should  suppose 
you  to  be  the  very  genius  of  idleness  itself.  M alone  :  But  perhaps  your  subject 
rather  means,  whom  being  in  subjection  to  you,  you  can  command  at  pleasure,  *  to 
do  your  bidding,'  to  assume  the  airs  of  coquetry,  etc.  Were  not  this  coquet  one  of 
your  attendants,  I  should  suppose  you  yourself  were  this  capricious  being.  Hud- 
son  :  '  Idleness'  here  means  idle  or  sportive  and  unmeaning  talk.  And  there  is  an 
antithesis  between  '  royalty '  and '  subject.*  So  the  sense  is, '  But  that  you  are  queen 
over  your  passion  for  idle  discourse,  and  can  command  it  as  your  subject,  assuming 
it  and  laying  it  aside  when  you  choose,  I  should  think  you  the  very  genius  of  idleness 
itself.'  RoLFE :  But  that  your  sovereignty  can  make  frivolousness  subservient  to  your 
purpose,  I  should  take  you  for  frivolousness  itself. 


ACT  I,  sc.  iii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA  57 

CUo.     *Tis  fweating  Labour,  117 

To  beare  fuch  Idlenefle  fo  neere  the  heart 
As  Cleopatra  this.     But  Sir,  forgiue  me, 

Since  my  becommings  kill  me,  when  they  do  not  120 

Eye  well  to  you.     Your  Honor  calles  you  hence, 
Therefore  be  deafe  to  my  vnpittied  Folly, 
And  all  the  Gods  go  with  you.     Vpon  your  Sword 
Sit  Lawrell  vi6lory,  and  fmooth  fuccefle 
Be  ftreVd  before  your  feete.  125 

AnL     Let  vs  go. 
G>me  :  Our  feparation  fo  abides  and  flies, 
That  thou  reciding  heere,  goes  yet  with  mee ; 
And  I  hence  fleeting,  heere  remaine  with  thee. 
Away.  Exeunt.  130 

123.  Vpam]  On  Pope,+.  126,  127.  Lef„.Cofm:'}  As  one  line, 

124.  LawreW]  Mai.   Var.  '21,  Knt,         Pope  et  seq. 

Djce,  Gla  Hal.  Sta.  KUj.     LxrwreWd  128.  reciding]  refiding  ¥t 

Ff  elect  goes]  gtfe/i  FffRowc,-^,    go^st 

Cap.  et  seq. 

120.  my  becommings]  The  things  which  become  me,  befit  me, 
124.  Lawrell  vidtory]  Both  Collier  and  Dyce  think  that  *  LawrelPd'  of  F,  is 
to  be  preferred.  The  former  suggests  that  a  d  has  dropt  out  at  the  press  ;  and  the 
latter  '  suspects  that  [thus]  Shakespeare  wrote  here.'  But  they  overlooked  certain 
examples  which  Abbott  (§  430)  fiimishes: — 'The  honey  of  his  music  vows' — 
Hamiet  III»  i,  164 ;  'The  venom  clamours  of  a  jealous  woman.' — Com.  of  Err,  V, 
i,  69 ;  <  Or  toads  infect  fair  founts  with  venom  mud.' — R,  of  L,  850.  *  The  Carthage 
<{iieen.' — Mid,  N.D,  I,  i,  173.  M alone  was  assuredly  correct  when  he  said  that 
this  use  of  a  noun  for  a  past  participle  or  an  adjective  *  was  the  language  of  Shake- 
ipeare's  time.' 

128,  129.  That  thou  .  .  .  remaine  with  thee]  Steevens  :  Compare  *  She  went, 
they  staid;  or  rightly  for  to  say,  She  staid  in  them,  they  went  in  thought  with  h3nr.' 
— Sidney,  Arcadia,  lib.  i,  [p.  87,  ed.  1598.]  Thus  abo  in  Plautus,  Mercator :  *Si 
domi  som,  foris  est  animus  :  sin  foris  sum,  animus  domi  'st.'  [HI,  iv,  2.] 


58  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  iv. 

[Scene  IK] 

Enter  OSlauius  reading  a  Letter^  LepiduSj 

and  their  Traine. 

Caf.    You  may  fee  Lepidus^dSid  henceforth  know, 
It  is  not  Ccefars  Naturall  vice,  to  hate 

One  great  Competitor.     From  Alexandria  5 

This  is  the  newes  :  He  fifties,  drinkes,  and  wades 

Scene  II.  Rowe.     Scene  V.  Pope,  +  .  i.  OdUuius]  Ociavius  Casar^Row^. 

Scene  IV.  Cap.  et  seq.  3.  [giving  him  a  Letter  to  read.  Cap. 

[Rome.    Rowe.     Caesar's   Palace   at  4.  vice]  voice  F^,  Rowe,  Pope. 

Rome.  Theob.     The  House  of  Caesar  as  5.  One]  A  Han.     Our  Heath.  Sing, 

modest  as  possible.     Statues  of  Julius  et  seq. 

Caesar,  Venus,  Apollo.     Kemble.  grecU]  geecU  F  . 


5.  One  great]  Heath  (p.  450)  :  I  have  little  doubt  but  Shakespeare  wrote.  Our 
grecU  competitor.  That  is,  that  he  doth  not  naturally  bear  a  personal  hatred  to 
Antony.  The  whole  scope  of  this  scene  confirms  the  emendation,  as  containing  the 
justifying  motives  of  Octavius  his  present  resentment  [Johnson,  of  course  inde- 
pendently, made  this  same  conjecture  ;  and  as  his  Edition  and  Heath's  Revisal  were 
both  issued  in  1765,  it  would  be  diflBcult  to  decide  the  priority,  were  it  not  that  John- 
son in  his  Preface  refers  to  Heath's  attack  on  Warburton. — Ed.]  Capell  (i,  30) : 
From  the  first  of  these  words  may  be  gather'd — that  the  party  who  utters  it  had  been 
engag'd  in  conversation  with  Lepidus  before  their  entry ;  and  that  a  topick  of  that 
conversation  had  been, — a  charge  brought  against  him  by  the  other,  of  designing  to 
get  rid  of  his  partners,  and  govern  singly :  The  passage  being  seen  in  this  view,  there 
can  be  no  occasion  for  changing  *  One '  into— ^,  or  into — our^  as  has  been  done  by 
different  gentlemen.  Boswkll  :  •  One  *  competitor  is  any  one  of  his  great  com- 
petitors. [It  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  uphold  the  Folio  here.  By  retaining 
'One'  the  inference  becomes  not  unfair  that  it  is  Caesar's  natural  vice  to  hate  many 
competitors.  The  whole  sentence  seems  cither  carelessly  written  or  else  dependent 
on  the  contents  of  the  letter  which  Caesar  has  just  read.  •  Vice '  and  *  hate  *  both 
seem  stronger  than  the  occasion  demands.  It  is  not  a  '  vice '  to  disapprove  of  immo- 
rality ;  nor  is  it  natural  that  the  misdemeanours  which  Caesar  rehearses  should  inspire 

*  hate,'  however  severely  they  may  be  condcnmed.     The  unanimity  with  which  all 
modem  editors  have  adopted  our  cannot  be  here  lighdy  disregarded. — Ed.] 

5.  Competitor]  Murray  {N,E,D,5,v,\^)\  One  associated  with  another  in 
seeking  the  same  common  object ;  an  associate,  a  partner.  [Thus  again  Caesar  calls 
Anthony  in  that  touching  lament,  when  word  is  brought  to  him  of  Anthony's  death : 

*  thou  my  Brother,  my  Competitor  In  top  of  all  designe ;  my  Mate  in  Empire,*  etc. — 
V,  i,  52.    See  also  note  on  I,  i,  21. — Ed.] 

6.  He  flthet]  That  Fishing  should  be  here  found  in  a  list  of  heinous  £udts,  can- 
not fail  to  give  a  profound  shock  to  all  gentle  and  refined  natures.  It  is  cheering  to 
note,  however,  that  the  sympathetic  author  of  Shakespeare  as  an  Angler  has  had  the 
itrength  to  quote  (p.  I a)  the  present  passage,  and  manfully  foibear  all  comment — ^Eo. 


ACT  I,  sc.  iv.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA 


59 


The  Lampes  of  night  in  reuell :  Is  not  more  manlike 
Then  Cleopatra  :  nor  the  Queene  of  Ptolamy 
More  Womanly  then  he.     Hardly  gaue  audience 
Or  vouchfafe  to  thinke  he  had  Partners.     You 
Shall  finde  there,  a  man^  who  is  th'abflra6ls  of  all  faults^ 


lo 


7.  reuell'\  revells  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Han. 

Is\  Om.  Pope,  Han. 
matdike\  manly  Rowe  ii,  + . 

8.  Ptolomy]  Ptolemy  Thcob. 

9-12.  Mare,.. follow. "]  Lines  end,  a«M/f- 
ence. .  .partners,. .  abstract. .  .follow.  Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb.  he... think., .man 
...follow.  Johns,  he... or.,. there.,  faults 
... follow.  Var.  '73.  audience... there... 
faults... follow.  Knt,  Sta.  or... there,,, 
faults,,. follow.  Cap.  et  cet. 


ID.  vouchfafe'] did vouchfafe¥ifKoYrt^ 
Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  vouchsafed 
Johns,  et  seq. 

he  had"]  that  h'  had  Pope,  thai 
he  had  Theob.  + . 

II.  finde  there"]  there  find  Thtoh.  ii, 
Warb.  Johns. 

th'abfl  rails]  th'abfiract  F,F^, 
Rowe.  th^  abflract  F^.  the  abstract 
Pope  et  seq. 

faults,]  faults;  Rowe.  faults 
Pope  et  seq. 


7.  reuell]  Walker  (Crit.  iii,  285),  having  found  a  line  in  Toumeur's  Revenger's 
Tragedy  where  revels  is  to  be  pronounced  as  a  monosyllable,  asks,  *  Is  revels  thus  pro- 
nounced in  a  passage  in  Shakespeare  ? '  To  which  his  editor,  Lettsom,  answers,  '  I 
think  not  except  in  [the  present  line].  And  even  this  example  is  ambiguous.' 
(Perhaps,  because  the  word  occurs  in  the  third  foot,  where  extra  syllables  are  at 
times  tolerated  and  perhaps  because  '  reels '  may  refer  to  a  drunken  gait.)  Lettsom 
might  have  been,  however,  a  little  more  bold.  The  word  occurs  again  in  <Our 
Alexandrian  Reueb : ' — ^V,  ii,  262,  where  also  it  may  be  pronounced  as  a  monosylla- 
ble, if  'Our'  be  a  disyllable.  And  in  II,  vii,  iii,  Revels  has  been  spelt  outright,  as 
I  think,  *  Reeles.'  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  even  to  this  day  how  easy  is  the  con- 
traction of  words  containing  a  v  between  two  vowels,  such  as  ne'er,  e'er,  etc.  In 
Wiuter's  Tale,  IV,  iv,  511,  (of  this  ed.)  in  a  note  on  'shovels,*  a  quotation  from 
The  Antiquary  is  given,  where  Sir  Walter  spells  the  word  shoots.     In  Ben  Jonson, 

•  mar'le  *  for  marvel  is  not  infrequent,  see  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  II,  i. — Ed. 

8.  Queene  of  Ptolomy]  Knight  :  All  the  modem  editions  omit '  of,'  reading 

*  Queen  Ptolemy.'     [The  omission  is  due  to  a  misprint  in  the  Variorum  of  1803, 
which  was  continued  in  those  of  1813,  and  1821.     These  are  Knight's  'all.' — Ed.] 

10.  vouchsafe  to]  A  convincing  proof,  as  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  compositor 
obeyed  his  ear  when  taking  the  words  from  the  mouth  of  his  reader.  The  dental  d 
in  '  vouchsafed '  was  lost  in  the  dental  /  of  '  to.'  Johnson  very  properly  restored  the 
d,  but  it  is  sufficiently  heard  when  the  line  is  spoken.  Steevens  believed  that  he 
had  restored  metre  to  the  line  by  omitting  *  to.'  If  what  I  have  said,  about  the 
absorption  of  d  in  the  /  of '  to,'  be  correct,  the  present  is  not  to  be  classed  among  the 
instances  given  by  Walker  ( Crit.  ii,  62)  of  *  final  d  and  final  e  confounded.'  See 
'dumbe,'  I,  v,  58  ;  'Tawny  fine,'  II,  v,  16;  'Or  looke  on  thine,'  V,  i,  49  (although 
this  last  is  doubtful). — Ed. 

11.  abfltradts]  One  of  the  most  valuable  of  Walker's  chapters,  as  has  been  re- 
marked in  almost  every  volume  of  this  edition,  is  that '  on  the  frequent  interpolation, 
and  frequent  omission,  of  the  final  j,'  in  the  6rst  Folio.  *  The  interpolation  of  an  s 
at  the  end  of  a  word,'  says  Walker  {^Crit,  i,  234),  ' — generally,  but  not  always,  a 


6o  THE   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  i.  sc.  iv. 

That  all  men  follow.  12 

Lep.     I  muft  not  thinke 
There  are,  euils  enow  to  darken  all  his  goodnefle: 
His  faults  in  him,  feeme  as  the  Spots  of  Heauen,  15 

12-14.  That,,,are\  As  one  line,  Ci^.  There  are  F^,  Cap.  et  seq. 

et  seq.  14.  enaw'\  enough  Rowe,  + ,  Qxp,  Var. 

12.  That'\  Om.   Pope,  Theob,  Han.  Mai.  Steev.  Ran.  Var.  Sing. 

Warb.  15,   16.  of  Heauen,  More  fierie'\  of 

14.    There    are,"}     They  re    Popc,  +  .  ermine,  or  Jires  Hani. 

noun  substantive, — is  lemarkably  frequent  in  the  Folio.  Those  who  are  conversant 
with  the  MS  of  the  Elizabethan  age  may  perhaps  be  able  to  explain  its  origin.  Were 
it  not  for  the  different  degree  of  frequency  with  which  it  occurs  in  different  parts  of 
the  Folio, — being  comparatively  rare  in  the  Comedies  (except  perhaps  in  The  IVtm- 
ter's  Tale)^  appearing  more  frequently  in  the  Histories,  and  becoming  quite  common 
in  the  Tragedies, — I  should  be  inclined  to  think  it  originated  in  some  peculiarity  of 
Shakespeare's  handwriting.'  This  possible  *  peculiarity '  of  Shakespeare's  handwrit- 
ing does  not  interfere  with  the  suggestion  that  the  compositors  composed  by  the  ear. 
Any  'peculiarity'  in  the  MS  would  mislead  the  reader,  whether  or  not  he  was  at 
the  same  time  the  compositor.  Other  instances  of  this  superfluous  s  in  the  present 
play  are  : — *  Packt  Cards  with  Caesars,'  IV,  xiv,  24 ;  *  Will  .  .  .  Ballads  vs  out  a 
Tune' — V,  ii,  260;  and,  possibly,  *  She  leuell'd  at  our  purposes' — Ibid.  401. — Ed. 
12.  all  men  follow]  '  All  men '  is  here  the  object,  not  the  subject  of  *  follow.' — Ed. 

14.  enow]  Bradley  (A^.  E.  D.  s.  v.  Enough) :  ...  In  many  dialects,  thongli 
not  in  all,  the  word  enough  (or  its  local  equivalent),  is  employed  in  the  singular  and 
in  the  adverbial  uses,  while  Enow  serves  for  the  plural.  In  the  i8th  century  this 
distinction  was  recognized  (e.g.  by  Johnson)  as  standard  English;  now,  however, 
enow  is  in  literary  use  entirely  superseded,  except  as  an  intentional  archaism,  by 
enough,  [Ibid,  [s,  v.  Enow,  Johnson's  definition  is  adopted.)  :  *The  plural  of 
Enough.'  Wherefore,  by  the  standard  usage  of  their  own  century  those  earlier  edi- 
tors, who  deserted  the  Folio,  were  wrong. — Ed.] 

15.  His  faults  in  him,  etc.]  Capkll  (i,  30)  :  The  propriety  of  this  similitude 
has  been  question' d ;  and,  indeed,  some  reflection  is  necessary,  ere  it  can  be  seen  : 
The  night  in  which  Antony's  faults  were  set,  and  by  which  they  were  render' d  more 
glaring,  is — the  turbulent  state  of  affairs,  and  the  storm  that  was  then  arisen  from 
Pompey.  Johnson  :  If  by  spots  are  meant  stars,  as  night  has  no  other  fiery  spots, 
the  comparison  is  forced  and  harsh,  stars  having  been  always  supposed  to  beautilj 
the  night ;  nor  do  I  comprehend  what  there  is  in  the  counterpart  of  this  simile,  which 
answeis  to  night's  blackness.  M alone  :  The  meaning  seems  to  be — '  As  the  stars 
or  spots  of  heaven  are  not  obscured,  but  rather  rendered  more  bright,  by  the  black- 
ness of  the  night,  so  neither  is  the  goodness  of  Antony  eclipsed  by  his  evil  qualities, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  his  faults  seem  enlarged  and  aggravated  by  his  virtues.  That 
which  answers  to  the  blackness  of  the  night,  in  the  counterpart  of  the  simile,  is 
Antonys  goodness.  His  goodness  is  a  ground  which  gives  a  relief  to  his  faults,  and 
makes  them  stand  out  more  prominent  and  conspicuous.  It  is  objected,  that  stars 
rather  beautify  than  deform  the  night  But  the  poet  considers  them  here  only  with 
rei^iect  to  their  prominence  and  splendomr.     It  is  sufficient  fcnr  him  that  their  sdntil- 


ACT  I,  sc.  iv.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  6 1 

More  fierie  by  nights  Blacknefle  ;  Hereditarie,  i6 

Rather  then  purchafle  :  what  he  cannot  change^ 
Then  what  he  choofes. 

Qjdf.     You  are  too  indulgent.     Let's  graunt  it  is  not 
Amiffe  to  tumble  on  the  bed  oi  Ptolomy^  20 

To  giue  a  Kingdome  for  a  Mirth,  to  fit 
And  keepe  the  tume  of  Tipling  with  a  Slaue, 
To  reele  the  ftreets  at  noone,  and  ftand  the  Buffet 
With  knaues  that  fmels  of  fweate  :  Say  this  becoms  him 
(As  his  compofure  mud  be  rare  indeed,  25 

18.  Then\  Than  F^.  LeU  F,.     Let  us  Pope  et  cet. 

19.  YoM  areJl  Yot^re  Pope, +,  Dyce  19.  not^  Om.  Ff,  Rowe. 
ii,  iii.                                                                    20.  Ptolomy]  Ptolemy  F^. 

Let'i\  F,F^,  Rowe,  Knt,  Sing.  2^. /mels]/mell  ¥i  ei  stf\. 

latioiis  appear  stronger  in  consequence  of  darkness,  as  jewels  are  more  resplendent  on 
a  black  groond  than  on  any  other. — Compare  /  Hen.  IV:  I,  ii,  236 : — '  And  like 
bright  metal  on  a  sullen  ground.  My  reformation,  glittering  o'er  my  fault.  Shall  show 
more  goodly,  and  attract  more  eyes.  Than  that  which  hath  no  foil  to  set  it  off.' 
[Capell,  for  all  his  gnarled  English,  is  often  our  surest  guide.  His  present  inter- 
pretation is,  to  me,  by  much  the  most  poetical.  It  was  the  blackness  of  the  rising 
tenqpest  that  gave  an  unusual  brilliance  to  Anthon]r's  misdeeds. — Ed.] 

15.  Spots]  QuiNCY  (p.  48) :  The  Corrector  reads  *  stars  oi  Heaven,' — thus  doing 
his  best  to  destroy  the  felicity  of  the  comparison,  and  render  a  striking  line  tame  and 
prosaic. 

16,  17.  Hereditarie,  Rather  than  purchaste]  Lord  Campbell  (p.  117) :  That 
is  to  say,  they  are  taken  by  descent^  not  by  purchase.  Lay  gents  (viz.,  all  except 
lawyers)  understand  by  <  purchase '  buying  for  a  sum  of  money,  called  the  price ;  but 
lawyers  consider  that '  purchase '  is  opposed  to  descent^ — that  all  things  come  to  the 
owner  either  by  descent  or  by  purchase^  and  that  whatever  does  not  come  through 
operation  of  law  by  descent  \s  purchased,  although  it  may  be  the  free  gift  of  a  donor. 
Thus,  if  land  be  devised  to  A.  in  fee,  he  takes  by  purchase,  or  to  B.  for  life,  remainder 
Id  a.  and  his  heirs,  B.  being  a  stranger  to  A.,  A.  takes  by  purchase;  but  upon  the 
death  of  A.,  his  eldest  son  would  take  by  descent.  So  in  ^  Hen,  IV:  IV,  iv,  the 
King,  who  had  usurped  the  crown,  says  to  the  Prince  of  Wales : — *  For  what  in  me 
was  purchased  Falls  upon  thee  in  a  more  fairer  sort.'  t.  e,  I  took  by  purchase,  you  will 
take  by  descent, 

19,  20.  You  are  .  .  .  Ptolomy]  Walker  ( Crit,  iii,  295 ) :  Arrange,  perhaps, — 
'  Yon  are  too  indulgent :  Let's  grant  'tis  not  amiss  |  To  tumble  on  the  bed  of  Ptolemy.' 

21.  a  Mirth]  For  a  merry  joke.  Deighton  :  It  seems  doubtful  whether  '  To 
give  a  kingdom '  means  to  bestow  a  kingdom  on  his  entertainer,  or  to  squander  the 
wealth  of  a  kingdom  in  a  single  feast. 

22.  tume  of  Tipling,  etc.]  See  North's  Plutarch,  Appendix. 

23.  To  reele  the  streets]  For  other  instances  of  the  omission  of  prepositions 
after  verbs  of  motion,  see  Abbott  §  198. 

25.  As  his  composure,  etc.]  Johnson:   This  seems  inconsequent.     I  read: 


62  THE   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  i,  sc.  iv. 

Whom  thefe  things  cannot  blemifli)   yet  mufl  AtUhany  26 

No  way  excufe  his  foyles,  when  we  do  beare 

So  great  waight  in  his  lightnefTe.     If  he  fillM 

His  vacancie  with  his  Voluptuoufneffe, 

Full  furfets,  and  the  drineffe  of  his  bones,  30 

Call  on  him  fort.     But  to  confound  fuch  time, 

ri,foyle5\    F,.     foyU    FjF^.     foils  28. ///V] ///' Stecv.  (misprint). 

Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  Var.  Coll.  Sing.  Ktly.  31.  Ctf//] /tfi/ Sing.  Coll.  ii.iii  (MS), 

soils  Mai.  et  cet.  Ktly. 

'  And  his  composure/  etc  Grant  that  this  becomes  him,  and  if  it  can  become  him, 
he  must  have  in  him  something  very  uncommon,  yet^  etc  Malone  :  Compare  As 
You  Like  II,  *  what  though  you  Aave  beauty,  (As  by  my  faith  I  see  no  more  in 
you  Than  without  candle  may  go  dark  to  bed,*) — III,  v,  41.  Abbott  (§  iii)  : 
'ASf  equivalent  to  as  regards  which^  thought  for^  was  sometimes  used  parenthetically 
in  a  sense  oscillating  between  the  relative  which^  as  regards  which,  and  the  con- 
junction^^, though,  since,  [Thus  Abbott  explains  the  'as'  here  and  in  II,  ii,  66. 
In  both  places,  as  well  as  in  Malone's  quotation  from  As  You  Like  It,  *  as '  appears 
to  me  to  introduce  a  clause  which  expresses  a  reason,  and  is  equivalent  to  tnas- 
much  as,  since ;  of  which  use  examples  may  be  found  in  the  N.  E,  D,  s,  v,  IV, 
18.— Ed.] 

27.  his  foyles]  Malone  :  For  the  emendation  now  made  [^soils']  I  am  answer- 
able. In  the  MSS  of  our  author' s  time,  /  and  /  are  often  undistinguishable,  and  no 
two  letters  are  so  often  confounded  at  the  press.  Shakespeare  has  so  regularly  used 
this  word  in  the  sense  required  here,  that  there  cannot,  I  imagine,  be  the  smallest 
doubt  of  the  justness  of  this  emendation.  So,  in  Hamlet :  [Hereupon  Malone  gives 
examples  of  soil  from  Hamlet,  Love's  Lab,  Z.,  Meas,  for  Meas.,  2  Hen,  IV,  and, 
doubtless,  a  Concordance  would  furnish  many  more.]  Steevens  :  If  '  foils '  be  inad- 
missible (which  I  question),  we  might  Te&d— fails.  In  The  Winter'' s  Tale,  we  meet 
with  this  substantive,  which  signifies  omission,  or  non-performance :  '  Mark,  and  per- 
form it.  See'st  thou?  for  the  fail  Of  any  point  in't,  shall  not  only  be  Death  to  thy- 
self,' etc  Yet,  on  the  whole,  I  prefer  Malone's  conjecture.  Collier  (ed.  ii)  : 
Malone  and  modem  editors  have  altered  <  foils'  to  soils,  without  sufficient  necessity ; 
the  '  foils'  of  Anthony  are  his  vices,  his  foibles  (possibly  Shakespeare's  word,  though, 
according  to  our  dictionaries,  not  so  old),  which  foil,  or  defeat,  the  exercise  of  our 
virtues.  [I  fail  to  perceive  any  gain  in  substituting  soils  for  *  foils.'  '  Foils '  is  a 
synonym  of  soils,  and  has  all  its  strength.  Bradley  (N.  E.  D,  s.  v.  Foil,  sb?,  2.  f  b) 
gives  as  its  definition  *  A  disgrace,  stigma.  With  mixture  of  the  sense  of  Foil,  v,^,  6. 
which  means  To  foul,  defile,  pollute.  In  material  and  immaterial  sense.'  Schmidt 
(Lex.)  also  gives  a  definition  of  'foil'  as  'blemish,  shortcoming'  and  quotes  the 
present  passage  as  an  example.  With  such  evidence  before  us,  is  there  any  sufficient 
reason  why  we  should  discard  Shakespeare*s  word  and  adopt  Malone's? — Ed.] 

28.  So  great  waight  in  his  lightnesse]  Johnson  :  The  word  light  is  one  of 
Shakespeare's  favourite  playthings.  The  sense  is — His  triffing  levity  throws  so 
much  burden  upon  us. 

31.  Call  on  him  for't]  Johnson  :  *  Call  on  him,'  is  visit  him.  Says  Cajsar — If 
Antony  followed  his  debaucheries  at  a  time  of  leisure,  I  should  leave  him  to  be 


ACT  I.  sa  iv.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  63 

That  drummes  him  from  his  fport,  and  fpeakes  as  lowd  32 

As  his  owne  State^  and  ours^  'tis  to  be  chid : 

As  we  rate  Boyes,  who  being  mature  in  knowledge, 

Pawne  their  experience  to  their  prefent  pleafure,  35 

And  fo  rebell  to  iudgement. 

33.  <mrs^  '/w]  ours ;  *tis  Pope,  +  .  34.  ra//]  rare  F^. 

^]  Ae  FjF^.  deing-  mature]   immature    Han. 

eAui:"]  ckuf,  Han.  Warb.  Johns.  Warb.     being  immature  Ktly. 
ekid  Cap.  et  scq. 

punished  by  their  natural  consequences,  by  surfeits ,  and  dry  bones.  Collier  (ed. 
ii)  :  Here  Mr  Singer,  with  some  apparent  unscrupolousness,  adopts  the  emendation 
of  the  corrected  Folio,  1632  (Notes  and  Emendations^  p.  4S7)  yiz.  Fall  for  'Call.' 
The  alteration  is  trifling,  but  it  never,  that  we  are  aware  of,  was  hinted  at  before 
1853,  and  all  editors,  until  Mr  Singer's  time,  printed  <  Gi//,'  etc.  He  was  quite 
right  to  use  FeUl^  but  surely  not  right  to  leave  it  to  be  supposed  that  it  was  his  own 
unprompted  emendation.  Staunton:  Call  him  to  account  for  it  [An  interpre- 
tation more  Shakespearian,  I  think,  than  Dr  Johnson's. — Ed.] 

31.  confound]  See  note  on  *  confound '  I,  i,  59. 

33-36.  'tia  to  be  chid:  As  we,  etc.]  Heath  (p.  451)  :  As  we  rate  boys,  who, 
when  they  have  attained  a  sufficient  maturity  of  knowledge  to  regulate  their  own 
conduct,  sacrifice  to  their  present  pleasure,  the  experience  they  have  had  of  the  ill 
consequences  which  will  certainly  follow  from  such  indulgence,  and  thus  rebel 
against  their  own  judgment.  According  to  Hanmer's  reading,  the  fault  of  the  boy  is 
said  to  proceed  from  the  immaturity  of  his  knowledge,  that  is,  want  of  sufficient 
experience  to  teach  him  that  knowledge,  at  the  same  time  that  he  is  said  to  have  that 
experience,  and  to  act  in  contradiction  to  it,  and  to  his  judgment  founded  upon  it 
Capell  (i,  30)  :  '  Being  mature '  has  been  chang'd  mXxk—imme^re :  but  <  boys '  are 
not  usually  <  rated '  for  faults  before  they  are  of  years  to  know  better ;  nor  can  they 
*  rebel  to  judgment,'  till  such  time  as  they  have  some.  Johnson  :  By  <  boys  mature  in 
knowledge '  are  meant,  boys  old  enough  to  know  their  duty.  R.  G.  White  (ed.  i)  : 
Hanmer's  reading,  <  immature  in  knowledge '  is  most  plausible.  For  boys  are  not 
mature  in  anything,  and  least  in  knowledge ;  and  were  they  mature  they  would  not 
pawn  their  experience  to  their  present  pleasure  ;  or  at  least  their  so  doing  would  not 
be  chosen  as  an  illustration  here.  Without  an  equivalent  to  Hanmer's  too  great 
change,  the  passage  appears  to  be  inexplicable.     Daniel  (p.  80)  :  Read  these  four 

lines  thus :  ' ^^j  to  be  chid  As  we  rate  boys,  who,  being  mature  in  knowledge. 

Pawns  his  experience  to  his  present  pleasure.  And  so  rebels  to  judgment.'  Boys  are 
not  mature  in  knowledge,  and  cannot  pawn  experience  nor  rebel  against  judgment 
they  do  not  possess ;  but  Antony  being  so,  and  doing  thus,  is  to  be  chidden  as  a  boy. 
J[oseph]  C[rosby]  (iV.  <Sr»  Qu,  V,  vii,  464,  1877) :  The  only  objection  to  Daniel's 
emendation  is  that  it  makes  no  less  than  five  changes  in  the  original  text.  But  the 
same  sense  and  construction  may  be  obtained  by  only  one  alteration,  and  that  a 
very  slight  one, — viz.  by  reading  They're  for  '  'tis,' — placing  the  parenthetical  clause 
between  dashes,  and  closing  the  first  sentence  with  a  note  of  exclamation  after '  ours,' 
thus : — *  As  his  own  state  and  ours !  They're  to  be  chid — As  we  rate  boys — who, 
being  mature  in  knowledge,'  etc.     By  this  arrangement  and  pointing,  it  will  be  seen 


64  THE   TRACED JE  OF  [act  i,  sc  iv. 

Enter  a  Mejfenger.  37 

Lep.     Heere's  more  newes . 

Me/.    Thy  biddings  haue  beene  done,  &  euerie  houre 
Mod  Noble  CtBfary  ftialt  thou  haue  report  40 

How  'tis  abroad.     Pompey  is  ftrong  at  Sea, 
And  it  appeares,  he  is  belouM  of  thofe 
That  only  haue  feard  Ccefar  :  to  the  Ports 
The  difcontents  repaire,  and  mens  reports 
Giue  him  much  wrong'd.  45 

C(Ef,     I  fhould  haue  knowne  no  leffe, 
It  hath  bin  taught  vs  from  the  primall  (late  47 

47.  hin\  been  F^. 

at  once  that  <  As  we  rate  boys '  is  to  be  construed  as  a  parenthesis,  and  that  *  who ' 
has  for  its  antecedent  <  they '  of  the  previous  line,  viz.  persons  generally  who  do  so- 
and-so,  and  does  not  in  any  way  refer  to  *■  boys.'  [Hudson  adopted  this  emendation 
of  Crosby  in  his  text  I  cannot  but  believe  that  recent  editors  would  have  found 
less  difficulty  in  these  lines  had  they  only  followed  the  punctuation  of  the  Folio,  with 
a  colon  after  '  chid/  instead  of  adopting  Capell's  text  where  is  no  punctuation  after 
<chid.'  With  <chid'  the  sense  is  complete, — Anthony's  conduct  deserves  to  be 
chidden.  Then  the  simile  begins.  It  seems  to  me  idle  to  discuss  whether  or  not 
boys  in  general  are  mature  or  immature.  The  '  boys '  that  Shakespeare  had  in  mind 
in  this  passage  were '  mature  in  knowledge '  and  (/id '  pawn  their  experience.'  *  Boys ' 
is  an  elastic  term.  Later  on,  Anthony  calls  Caesar  a  'boy.'  Compared  with 
Anthony's  fifty-two  years  thirty-two  years  may  well  be  a  boy's  span,  and  can  any 
one  say  that  such  a  *  boy '  might  not  be  mature  enough  to  recognize  the  folly  of  pawn- 
ing experience  to  present  pleasure  ?  The  old  shepherd  in  TAe  Winter's  Tale  thought 
that  youths  of  three-and-twenty  knew  too  much. — Ed.] 

43.  haue  feard  Cflesar]  Johnson  :  Those  whom  not  love  but  fear  made  ad- 
herents to  Caesar,  now  show  their  affection  for  Pompey. 

43.  to  the  Ports]  Collier  (ed.  ii) :  'To  \}[i<t  fleets^  in  the  MS  with  some  plausi- 
bility ;  but  though  we  may  believe  '  ports '  to  have  been  caught  from  the  line  below, 
we  refrain  from  alteration,  inasmuch  as  '  ports '  may  be  right  We  are  previously  told 
that  'Pompey  is  strong  at  sea,'  and  to  say  that  the  'discontents'  repair  'to  the 
fleets '  is  what  might  have  been  expected.  [CoLLiEk  adopted  fleets  in  his  Third 
Edition^  Dyce  (ed.  ii)  :  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  old  text  is  wrong ;  but  theie 
is  something  disagreeable  in  the  two  lines  [43  and  44]  ending  with  the  same  sylla- 
ble.    [This  adds  a  shade  of  plausibility  to  the  emendation  of  Collier's  MS. — Ed.] 

44.  discontents]  For  examples  of  participles  or  adjectives,  when  used  as  nouns, 
with  the  inflection  of  the  plural,  see,  if  need  be,  Abbott,  §  433. 

45.  Giue  him]  That  is,  represent  him. 

47.  primall  state]  Wordsworth  (p.  337) :  I  am  inclined  to  think  there  b  a 
reference  here  to  the  meaning  of  Cain's  name,  '  a  man  gotten  from  the  Lord,'  at  hb 
mother's  wish.  See  Gen.  iv,  I  and  margin.  Compare  the  use  of  the  word  '  primal ' 
in  Hamlet  III,  iii,  37 ;  also  with  reference  to  Cain :  '  It  hath  the  primal  eldest  cuise 
upon  't,  A  brother's  murder !  * 


ACT  I,  sc.  iv.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  6$ 

That  he  which  is  was  wifht,  vntill  he  were:  48 

And  the  ebbM  man, 

Ne're  louM,  till  ne're  worth  loue,  50 

Comes  feared,  by  being  lacked.     This  common  bodie, 

49.  50.  One  line,  Rowe  et  scq.  51.  feaf'd'\  Ff,  Rowe,   Pope,   Knt, 

50.  n^re  wcr/A"]  not  worth  Mai.  conj.         Coll.  i.   dearKWy,  dear' dTheoh,  etcet 
Rjuin.  TAtsI  The  Han. 

51.  Comes  fear'd,  by  being  lack'd]  Warburton  :  Let  us  examine  the  sense  of 
this  in  plain  prose :  '  The  earliest  histories  inform  us,  that  the  man  in  supreme  com- 
mand was  alwa^rs  wish'd  to  gain  that  command,  till  he  had  obtain*d  it.  And  he, 
vbom  the  multitude  has  contentedly  seen  in  a  low  condition,  when  he  begins  to  be 
wanted  by  them,  becomes  to  be  "fear'd''  by  them.'  But  do  the  multitude  fear  a 
man  because  they  want  him?  Certainly,  we  must  read  :  'Comes  deat'd,  by  being 
lacked,'  t.  /.  endear* d,  a  favourite  to  them.  Besides,  the  context  requires  this  read- 
ily ;  for  it  was  not  fear,  but  love,  that  made  the  people  flock  to  young  Pompey  and 
what  occasioned  this  reflection.  So  in  Coriolanus  .*  '  I  shall  be  lon^d^  when  I  am 
lack'd.'  Malone  :  Something,  however,  is  yet  wanting.  What  is  the  meaning  of 
— *  ne'er  lov'd  till  n^er  worth  love  ? '  I  suppose  that  the  second  *  ne'er'  was  inad- 
'vertently  repeated  at  the  press,  and  that  we  should  read  *till  not  worth  love.' 
Kmight  [who  follows  the  Folio]  :  The  general  reading  is  dear'd.  But  it  must  be 
lemembered  that  Caesar  is  speaking ;  and  that,  in  the  notions  of  one  who  aims  at 
supreme  authority,  to  be  feared  and  to  be  loved  are  pretty  s3monymous.  Collier 
(ed.  i,  also  following  the  Folio)  :  Warburton' s  alteration  is  plausible,  but  does  not 
seem  necessary.  Caesar  may  mean,  that  Pompey,  by  being  so  much  backed  by  the 
people,  has  become  powerful,  and  is  therefore  <  fear'd.'  3id,  (ed.  ii,  adopting  lot^d 
finom  his  MS)  :  We  accept  the  emendation  of  the  MS  with  confidence,  not  lessened 
by  the  Shakespearian  alliteration  thus  afibrded.  The  meaning  is  too  plain  to  need  ex- 
planation. [In  his  TTiird  Edition  Collier  adopted  Warburton's  deat^dJ]  J.  Crosby 
(ShaJkespeariana^  Dec  1 883,  p.  46)  suggests  that  'fear'd'  should  be  'spelt  ^feer'dy 
abbreviated  from  affeet'd,  i.  ^.,  estimated  at  its  true  worth,  appraised,  valued,* 
[This  si^gestion  would  be  almost  conclusive,  were  it  possible  to  find  a  single  instance 
where  affeer  is  abbreviated  to  *feer,  or  where  even  any  of  the  word's  modifications 
is  so  abbreviated.  Not  an  instance  is  to  be  found,  I  think,  in  the  N.  E.  D,  nor 
in  Wright's  English  Dialect  Dictionary,  where  such  an  abbreviation  could  not 
£ul  to  be  given,  if  it  had  been  ever  used  in  any  English  dialect  Caesar  is  in  a 
bitter  mood.  To  his  vexation  over  Anthony's  misdoings  is  now  added  the  morti- 
fying news  that  those  whose  love  for  him  had  changed  to  fear  were  flocking  to 
Pcxmpey.  Whereupon  he  begins  to  moralize  and  sa3rs  that  he  ought  to  have  known 
that  this  would  be  so,  because  from  time  immemorial  he  who  is  in  power  was  loved 
up  to  the  very  moment  when  he  attained  that  power.  Then  he  became  feared  and 
people  deserted  him  (just  as  they  had  deserted  him  for  Pompey).  Next,  through 
this  desertion,  he  becomes  an  ebb'd  man.  And  this  ebb'd  man  (again  a  victim  of 
popular  caprice,  and  now  loved  when  all  his  power  is  gone  and  there  is  no  longer 
profit  in  loving  him),  by  being  missed  and  wanted  again  by  the  people,  comes  again 
to  be  feared.  Thus  the  common  people  go  to  and  back,  hither  and  yon,  like  a  vaga- 
bond flag  on  the  stream.  If  this  interpretation  be  just,  Warburton's  emendation, 
deaf'd,  is  needless,  and  the  text  of  the  Folio  may  be  vindicated. — Ed.] 

5 


66 


THE   TRACE  DIE  OF 


[act  I,  sc.  iv. 


Like  to  a  Vagabond  Flagge  vpon  the  Streame, 
Goes  too,  and  backe,  lacking  the  vanying  tyde 
To  rot  it  felfe  with  motion. 

Mef.     Ccefar  I  bring  thee  word, 
Menacraies  and  Menas  famous  Fyrates 
Makes  the  Sea  ferue  them,  which  they  eare  and  wound 
With  keeles  of  euery  kinde.     Many  hot  inrodes 
They  make  in  Italy,  the  Borders  Maritime 
Lacke  blood  to  think  e  on't,  and  flufh  youth  reuolt, 
No  Veflell  can  peepe  forth  :  but  'tis  as  foone 
Taken  as  feene  :  for  Pompeyes  name  ftrikes  more 


52 


55 


6o 


62 


52.  to\  Om.  Ran.  Var.  '03,  '13,  '21. 
VagtUf(md'\  VagobondY^ 

53.  to6\  to  F^. 
backe'\  fro  Ktly. 

lackiHg\  Yi^  Rowe.  laskingYG^, 
kuquying  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  lacquing 
Johns,  lackying  Cap.  lackeying  Steev. 
et  seq.     tacking  Gould. 

varrying'\  F,. 

54.  [Enter  another  Messenger.  Cap. 
Ran. 


56.  Menacrates]  Menecrates  F^. 

57.  Makes'\  Make  Y^  et  seq. 
eare'\  tear  Grey  (ii,  197). 

58.  keeU5\  kneels  Fj.     knells  F^. 
inrodes^    Rowe,    Pope,    'Hieob. 

Warb.  Johns,     inroads  Han. 

59.  Italy ^"l  Italy:  Cap.  et  seq. 
(iO.Jlu/h  youth  reuolt\/le/kyoutk  revolt 

Y^   flejh  youth  to  revolt  FjF^,  Rowe. 
fresh  youth  revolt  Anon.  ap.  Hal. 
61.  frrth .]  frrthy  Ff  et  seq. 


53.  lacking]  Theobald:  The  addition  of  a  single  letter  [to  the  word  in  the 
Folio]  will  not  only  give  us  good  sense,  but  the  genuine  word  of  our  author  into  the 
bargain : — '  Lackeying  the  varying  Tide/  t.  /.  floating  backwards  and  forwards  with 
the  variation  of  the  tide,  like  a  page,  or  lacquey,  at  his  master's  heels.  Strevens  : 
Compare  Chapman's  Iliad  \  *  My  guide  to  Argos,  either  shipped,  or  lackeying  by  thy 
side,'  Bk.  24tb,  [line  392.]  Again,  *  — who  would  willingly  Lackey  along  so  vast  a 
lake  of  brine.' — Odyssey^  Bk.  5,  [line  I30.]  Again  in  Marston's  Antonio  and  Mel- 
Hda^  1602 :  '  O  that  our  power  Could  lackie  or  keep  wing  with  our  desires.* — Second 
Part^  Prologue,  CoLUER  (ed.  i)  :  Southern  in  his  Folio,  1685,  altered  Macking' 
to  backing,  Haluwell  (Notes^  etc.  p.  13) :  '  Lacking '  is  rather  a  variation  of  form 
than  an  error.  The  same  orthography  occurs  in  a  MS  dated  1615,  quoted  by  Haw- 
kins, in  his  edition  of  Ruggle's  Ignoramus^  17S7,  Appendix,  p.  120.  J.  Churton 
Collins  (p.  299)  :  Theobald  gave  us  back  one  of  the  finest  onomatopoeic  lines  in 
Shakespeare :— GOH  fo  aHd  bSCk  iRkllyiffg  thl$  ySf^  Ede. 

55.  Mes.]  Stbevens  :  Perhaps  another  Messenger  should  be  noted  here,  as  enter- 
ing with  fresh  news.  Heyss  (p.  146)  makes  the  same  suggestion, '  inasmuch  as 
Cassar  had  been  assured  that  he  should  *'  every  hour  have  report  How  'tis  abroad." 
That  this  second  messenger  brings  nothing  absolutdy  new  is  no  more  than  is  to  be 
expected  from  reports  every  hour.* 

57.  eare]  Johnson  :  To  *ear'  is  \xypl9ugk\  a  conunon  metaphor. 

6a  Lacke  blood  to  think  e  on't]  Johnson  :  Turn  pale  at  die  thought  of  it. 

60.  flush  youth]  Steevens  :  That  is,  youth  ripened  to  manhood ;  youth  whose 
blood  is  at  the  flow. 


ACT  I.  sc.  iv.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  67 

Then  could  his  Warre  refifted.  63 

Ca/ar.    Anthonyy 
Leaue  thy  lafciuious  Vaffailes*     When  thou  once  65 

Was  beaten  from  Medena^  where  thou  flew'ft 
HirfiuSy  and  Paufa  Confuls,  at  thy  heele 
Did  Famine  follow,  whom  thou  fought'fl  againft, 
(Though  daintily  brought  vp)  with  patience  more 
Then  Sauages  could  fuffer.     Thou  did'ft  drinke  70 

65.  VafaUes]  F,.  Vaffaiis  F,.  Vaffals  dma  North's  Plat  Johns,  et  seq. 
F^,  Rowe,  Knt.  wassails  Pope  et  cet.  67.  Hirfius]  Hirtias  F^  et  seq. 
(subs.)  Paufa]  Panfa  Ff. 

66.  Was'\  Wert  Ff,   Rowe,  +  ,   Cap.  (A.  foll(nVy'\  folkw ;  Qk^  e,  wt^ 
Wast  Var.  '78  et  seq.  whom\  which  Han. 

fKu...Medena]  FromMtUinawas  fought'Jl'\  /a$ight*Jt  F,. 

healen  Han.  69.  with']  bore  with  Wray  ap.  Cam. 

Medena]  Mutina  Rowe,+  .    Mo-  7a  Then]  Than  F^. 

65.  Vassailes]  Steevens  :  Wassel  is  here  put  for  intemperance  in  general.  Hen- 
IXT:  *  Vassals'  is,  without  question,  the  true  reading.  Knight:  Wassal  is  em- 
ployed by  Shakspere  in  the  strict  meaning  of  drunken  revelry;  and  that  could 
acaicely  be  called  *  lascivious.'  On  the  contrary,  'leave  thy  lascivious  vassals* 
expresses  Caesar's  contempt  for  Qeopatra  and  her  minions,  who  were  strictly  the  vas- 
sals of  Antony,  the  queen  being  one  of  his  tributaries.  Dycs  (ed.  ii):  Knight 
prints  '  vassals,'  though  the  rest  of  the  speech  so  distinctly  shows  that  here  wassails 
and  not  *  vassals '  sure  in  question.  Collier  :  Either  reading  may  be  right ;  but 
vassal  was  not  usually,  though  sometimes,  spelt  vassaile,  and  nothing  is  more  likely 
than  that  the  old  compositor  should  use  v  for  w,  Caesar  has  previously  accused 
Antony  of  *  tippling  with  a  slave,'  and  '  reeling  the  streets  at  noon,'  which  counte- 
nances wassails  as  an  old  drinking  term  ;  and,  in  addition,  we  may  state  that '  vas- 
sailes' is  amended  to  wassails  in  the  MS.  [According  to  Bartlett's  Concordance, 
*  vassal '  or  *  vassals '  occurs  twenty  times  elsewhere  in  Shakespeare,  which  added 
to  the  present  instance  make  twenty-one ;  of  this  number  three  occur  in  the  present 
play;  in  a  third  of  the  instances  it  is  spelt  in  the  Folio  vassaile  or  vassailes;  it  is 
also  so  spelt  in  Sonnet  j8.  In  none  of  these  instances,  except  in  the  present,  has 
there  been  any  suggestion  of  wassail;  nor  can  I  see  any  necessity  for  such  a  sugges- 
tion here,  in  spite  of  the  dogmatic  assertion  of  Dyce,  whose  note,  to  my  regret,  I  do 
not  comprehend.  It  is  really  not  clear  to  me  that  Anthony  ought  to  leave  his  revelry 
in  Egypt,  because  *  the  rest  of  the  speech  so  distinctly  shows '  that  some  time  pre- 
viously, at  Modena,  he  drank  gilded  puddles  and  browsed  on  bark.  The  adjective 
which  qualifies  '  vassailes,'  seems  to  me  to  be  far  more  appropriate  to  humankind  than 
to  drinking  bouts.  In  the  present  play,  it  is  spelt  <  vassaile,'  II,  vi,  71,  and  '  vassal,' 
V,  ii,  35.  It  b  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  spelling  of  the  compositors  of  the  Folio 
is  so  lawless,  that  any  appeal  to  its  uniformity  is  generally  useless. — Ed.] 

67.  Hirsius,  and  Pausa]  See  Appendix^  Plutarch, 

69,  7a  more  Then  Sauages  could  suffer,  etc.]  HAzuin^  (p.  99)  :  It  is  worth 
while  to  observe  that  Shakespear  has  contrasted  the  extreme  magnificence  of  the 
descriptions  in  this  play  with  pictures  of  extreme  suffering  and  physical  horror,  not 


68 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  I,  sc.  iv. 


The  dale  of  Horfes,  and  the  gilded  Puddle 

Which  Beafls  would  cough  at    Thy  pallat  th^  did  daine 

The  rougheft  Berry,  on  the  rudeft  Hedge. 

Yea,  like  the  Stagge,  when  Snow  the  Pafture  (heets. 

The  barkes  of  Trees  thou  brows'd.     On  the  Alpes, 

It  is  reported  thou  did'ft  eate  ftrange  flefh. 

Which  fome  did  dye  to  looke  on  :  And  all  this 

( It  wounds  thine  Honor  that  I  fpeake  it  now  ) 

Was  borne  fo  like  a  Soldiour,  that  thy  cheeke 

So  much  as  lank'd  not 

Lep.    'Tis  pitty  of  him. 

C(Bf.     Let  his  (hames  quickely 
Driue  him  to  Rome,  'tis  time  we  twaine 
Did  (hew  our  felues  iWField,  and  to  that  end 
Affemble  me  immediate  counfell,  Potnpey 


71 


75 


80 


85 


72.  dMfu\  dain  F^^.     deign  Pope. 

75.  br(rufj^d'\  brow/edft  Ff. 

76.  reported'\  repoted  Fj. 

79.  bom/\    bom    Pope,   Cap.     bore 
Theob.  ii,  Warb.  Johns.  Var.  '73. 

Soldiour]  Souldiour  F,.    Souldier 
Fj.     Souldiers  F^.     Soldier  Rowe. 

80.  as  lank'd]  as  I  lanJ^d  F^F^.     as 
lanJked  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

81.  '  7«]  //  is  Han.  Johns.  Var.  Ran. 
Steev.     Ay,  *lis  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

82-84.  Lei.., end]  Lines  end,  lime... 
endKtlj. 


83.  Rome,']  Rome disgrae'd  Mai.  conj. 
*lis  lime]  time  is  it,  that  Pope,  + » 

Cap.  Var.     ^tis  time  indeed  Steev.  conj. 
V&r  time  at  least  Words. 

84.  Vth']  itk  F,.     ith'  FjF^. 

85.  me]  we  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  Ran. 
Steev.  Var.  Coll.  Sing.  Dyce,  Wh.  Glo. 
Sta. 

immediate]  immediately  Fy  im- 
mediatly  F^. 

counfell,]  F,.  councei,  F^F^. 
cou$uil;  Rowe. 


less  striking — partly  perhi4>s  to  excuse  the  effeminacy  of  Mark  Antony  of  whom 
they  are  rdated  as  having  happened,  but  more  to  preserve  a  certain  balance  of  feel- 
ing in  the  mind.     [See  Appendix,  Plutarch.] 

71.  The  stale  of  Horses]  Steevens:  All  these  circumstances  of  Antony's  dis- 
tress are  taken  literally  from  Plutarch.     [The  present  item  is  not  in  Plutarch. — Ed.] 

71.  gilded  Puddle]  Henley  :  There  is  frequently  observable  on  the  surface  of 
stagnant  pools,  that  have  remained  long  undisturbed,  a  reddish  gold-coloured  slime. 

81.  'Tis  pitty  of  him]  Abbott  (§  174):  'Of  passes  easily  from  meaning  as 
regards  to  to  concerning,  about.  [This  half-line  and  the  preceding,  *  So  much  as 
lank'd  not,'  Abbott  (§510)  combines  into  one  metrical  line  by  *  giving  the  full  pro- 
nunciation to '  '  lank^d.'  But  b  not  thereby  the  evident  intention  of  throwing  the 
emphasis  on  **Tis*  defeated?     For  'of,'  see  Franz,  §  364;  V,  i,  81. — Ed.] 

85.  Assemble  me  immediate  coonsell]  M alone:  I  do  not  recollect  any 
instance  where  Shakespeare  has  introduced  this  [ethical  dative]  in  solemn  dialogue, 
where  one  equal  is  speaking  to  another.  Perhaps  the  second  Folio  is  right  So 
*  Haste  we'  II,  ii,  194  [* dispatch  we,'  II,  ii,  195].     Knight:  The  modem  read- 


ACT  I,  sc.  v.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA 


69 


Thriues  in  our  IdlenefTe. 

Lep.     To  morrow  Ccefary 
I  (hall  be  fumifht  to  informe  you  rightly 
Both  what  by  Sea  and  Land  I  can  be  able 
To  front  this  prefent  time. 

Qe/niiX  which  encounter,  it  is  my  bufmes  too.  Farwell. 

Z^/.Farwell  my  Lord,  what  you  fhal  know  mean  time 
Of  ftirres  abroad,  I  (hall  befeech  you  Sir 
To  let  me  be  partaker. 

CiB/ar.     Doubt  not  fir,  I  knew  it  for  my  Bond.   Exeunt 


86 


90 


95 


\Scene  K] 


Enter  CleopatrUy  CharmtaHy  IraSy  &  Mardian. 
Cleo.     Charmian. 
Char.     Madam. 


S9.  Boihwhat'\WithwhatybothYi'CLy, 
With  what  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

be  able\  assemble  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

90,  91.    Tc.eHcomUer^  As  one  line 
Pope  et  seq. 

90.  fromt'\    ^ front  Cap.   Var.    Ran. 
Steer.  Var.  Sing.  Ktly. 

91.  it  f  j]  *  Tis  Pope. 
Farwell']  Om.  Han. 

99-94.  Farwell.,, partaker]  Lines  end, 
Lord., Mbroad.,. partaker.  Popey  +  . 
93f  ^  Sir  To\  Om.  Pope,  +. 

94.  partaker]  partaker  o/YjXy. 

95.  Doubt]  Doubt  it  Tbeob.  +  ,  Var. 
Rftn. 

/ir]  Om.  Pope. 


95.  /...  Bond]  Separate  line,  Cap. 
Steev.  Var.  Knt,  Coll.  ii.  Sing.  Djrce, 
Glo.  Sta.  KUy. 

knew]  know  Walker,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 
Bond]   bond.      Farewell  Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

Scene  III.  Rowe.  Scene  VI.  Pope. 
Scene  V.  Cap.  ct  seq. 

Alexandria.  Rowe.  Alexandria.  A 
Room  in  the  Palace.  Theob. 

1.  Enter...]  Enter  Qeopatra,  support- 
ing herself  on  Iras  ;  Charmian  and  Mar- 
dian  following.  Cap. 

2.  Charmian.]  Charmian^ —  Theob. 
et  seq. 


ing  is  *  Assemble  we;  *  and  it  is  justified  by  the  assertion  that  one  equal  is  speaking 
to  another.  The  commentators  forget  the  contempt  Csesar  had  for  Lepidus ;  they 
forget,  too,  the  crouching  humility  of  Lepidus  himself  [as  shown  in  lines  93,  94. 
What  Knight  says  about  the  slight  estimation  in  which  Csesar  held  Lepidus  is  true 
enough  and  ingenious  enough,  but  it  may  be  doubted  that  Csesar  would  thus  give  Lepi- 
dus ordeis  as  though  he  were  a  servant,  especially  since  Lepidus  would  be  himself  of 
the  council  when  assembled.     I  prefer  we  of  F^ — Ed.]. 

95.  I  knew  it  for  my  Bond]  M.  Mason  :  That  is,  to  be  bounden  duty.  [I  do 
not  see  the  force  of  the  past  tense, '  knew.'  Walker  (  Crit.  iii,  295  )  says  *  Of  course, 
kncWf*  and  one  is  inclined  to  acquiesce.  Of  the  foregoing  scene,  Vischrr  (p.  88) 
remarks  that  it  might  be  dispensed  with  altogether  or  combined  with  a  later  one. — 
Ed.] 


yo  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  t. 

CUo.     Ha^  ha,  giue  itie  to  drinke  Mandragoru.  4 

4.  Ha^  ha^'\  Hoy  ha — Rowe,+.    As  4.  Mandrmgoru]     Mandngoims     Ff, 

separate  line.  Steer,  et  seq.  (subs.)  Rowe,  Pope,  Tbeob.  Han.  Warb.    Mam- 

dragora  Johns,  et  seq. 

4.  Ha,  ha,]  It  is  not  easj  to  decide  how  this  exclamation  should  be, spelt,  expres- 
sive as  it  is  of  mingled  weariness  and  impatience.  What  is,  ponibly,  the  modem 
equivalent  was  spelt  by  Shake^are's  compositors  five  times  <  heigh  ho '  and  once '  hey 
ho.'  I  say  *  modem  equivalent '  because  Shakespeare  does  not  always  employ  it  to 
express  weariness,  for  example,  in  the  song  in  As  You  Like  It^  *  Then  heigh  ho,  the 
kolly,  This  life  is  most  jolly.*  In  the  present  instance,  howsoever  it  be  spelt,  it  is 
not  laughter,  any  more  than  is  Othello's  agonized,  <  Ha,  ha,  false  to  me  ? ' — Ed. 

4.  giue  me  to  drinke]  Deighton  :  Not '  give  me  mandragora  to  drink,'  but '  enable 
me,  put  it  in  my  power,  to  drink  mandragora,'  as  in  Othello^  II,  Hi,  209,  *■  Give  me 
to  knew  How  this  foul  rout  began.'  [I  think  these  two  instances  are  hardly  parallel. 
Othello  demands  certain  information  and  follows  up  this  demand  with  direct  ques- 
tions. Qeopatra  gives  a  command  which  she  does  not  expect  to  be  obeyed  ;  and 
would  probably  have  refused  the  smallest  sip,  had  mandragora  been  really  brought  to 
her. — Ed.] 

4.  Mandragoru]  In  the  Text,  Notes  of  the  Cam,  Ed,  <  Mandragora '  is  given  as 
the  word  in  F,.  This  is  possibly  an  instance,  among  many,  of  a  variation  in  copies 
of  the  same  edition.  It  is  clearly  *  Mandragoru '  in  my  copy  of  F, ;  it  is  so  also  in 
Yernor  and  Hood's  Reprint  oi  1807  ;  in  Booth's  Reprint,  and  in  Staunton's  Phot^- 
Kihograpk.  It  is  a  matter  of  very  small  importance,  and  serves  only  as  a  warning 
against  a  reliance,  too  implicit,  on  the  spelling  of  Shakespeare's  compositors. — Ed. 

4.  Mandragoru]  *  Mandragora  hath  that  name,  for  it  beareth  apples  with  great 
savour  of  the  greatnesse  of  the  apples  of  Madan,  and  is  called  Malum  terre  among 
Latines.  And  Poets  call  it  Antropomoros^  for  the  root  thereof  is  some  deale  shapen 
as  a  man :  the  rinde  thereof  medled  with  Wine  is  giuen  to  them  to  drinke  that  shall 
be  cut  in  the  body,  for  they  shuld  sleepe  and  not  feele  the  sore  cutting. .  .  .  And 
Di&sco,  saith,  that  Mandragora  is  a  sleeping  hearbe.  .  .  .  For  the  rindes  thereof  sod 
in  Wine,  cause  sleepe,  &*  abateth  all  manner  sorenesse :  and  so  that  time  a  man 
feeleth  vnneth,  though  he  bee  cut.* — Batman  vppon  Bartholomew  1582,  Liber  XVII, 
Chap.  104,  p.  304.  Page  after  page  could  be  quoted  of  the  superstitions  which  have 
clustered  about  this  plant.  All  that  Cleopatra  cared  for  here  and  now  was  its  nar- 
cotic power,  and  that  quality  is  all  that  a  note  need  set  forth.  Therefore  it  is,  that 
only  the  forgoing  extract  from  Bartholome  is  given, — a  book  probably  less  accessible 
to  the  general  reader  than  many  another.  Should  a  student  wish,  however,  to  pur- 
sue the  subject  further,  he  is  referred  to  : —  Lyte's  trans,  of  Dodoens,  ed.  1578,  p. 
437;  Holland's  Plinie,  tome  II,  bk.  zxv,  ch.  13,  ed.  1634;  Gerarde's  Herhall,  p. 
351,  ed.  1633;  Lupton's  Thousand  Notable  things  of  sundrie  sortes^  Third  Booke, 
43,  ed.  1627  (where  directions  may  be  found  <  to  make  a  counterfet  Mandrage,  which 
hath  been  sold  by  deceiuers,  for  much  money ' ) ;  Nares,  s,  v. ;  EUacombe,  Plant 
Lore^  p.  117  ;  Grindon,  Shakspere  Flora ,  p.  290 ;  Seager,  Natural  History  in  Shake- 
speares  Time,  p.  195 ;  or  Othello,  III,  iii,  384 ;  Rom,  6r»  Jul.  IV,  iii,  47  of  this 
Edition.  Finally,  there  is  an  exhaustive  discussion  of  it,  historically  and  botanically, 
by  Prof.  Ferd.  Cohn  in  the  FUnfundsechzigster  Jahres-Beficht  der  Schlesuehem 
Gesellschaft  f,  vaterldndische  Cultur,  Breslau,  1888,  p.  285.~£d. 


ACT  I,  sc,  v.]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 


n 


Char.     Why  Madam  ? 

CUo.     That  I  might  fleepe  out  this  great  gap  of  time : 
My  Anthony  is  away. 

Char.     You  thinke  of  him  too  much. 

Cleo.     O  'tis  Treafon. 

Char.     Madam,  I  trafl  not  fo. 

Cleo.     Thou,  Eunuch  Mardianl 

Mar.     What's  your  Highnefle  pleafure  ? 

Cleo.     Not  now  to  heare  thee  fmg.    I  take  no  pleafure 
In  ought  an  Eunuch  ha's  :  Tis  well  for  thee, 
That  being  vnfeminar'd,  thy  freer  thoughts 
May  not  flye  forth  of  Egypt.     Haft  thou  Affeftions  ? 

Mar.     Yes  gracious  Madam. 

Cleo.     Indeed  ? 

Mar.     Not  in  deed  Madam,  for  I  can  do  nothing 
But  what  in  deede  is  honeft  to  be  done : 
Yet  hauc  I  fierce  Afre£lions,and  thinke 


5 


ID 


IS 


20 


6.  Hme/\  Ff.  time  Knt,  Dyce,  Wh. 
Glo.  Cam.     Hnu^  Rowe  et  cet.  (sabs.) 

8.  /^iRMM-A]  Separate  line,  Cap.  Steev. 

9.  O  '/w]  O,  that  is  Han.  O  /—  Cap. 
O^  Steer.     Oh  I  it  is  Ktlj. 

II.  7%ou,  Eunuch']  Thou,  Eunuch, 
Rowe,  Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Cap.  Coll. 
Wh.  TkMi  eunuch,  Pope,  Han.  Thou  ! 
Eunuch  I  Var.  '73.  Thou,  eunuch  ! 
Var.  '78^  Mai.  Steer.  Knt. 


II.  Mardian/]  Mardian—  Theob. 

14.  ought]  aught  Theob.  ii,  Warb. 
Johns.  Var.  '73  et  scq. 

15.  vn/eminar^ d]  unfeminaried  Yi, 
Rowe. 

19.  in  deed]  indeed  Y^^, 

20.  in  deede]  indeed  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Han.  Warb.  Cap.  Var.  ♦Ss,  Knt,  Sing. 
Dyce,  SU.  Glo.  Cam.  Ktly,  Wh.  ii. 


Mrs  Jamsson  (p.  130) :  Finer  still  are  the  workings  of  her  variable  mind  and 
lirely  imagination,  after  Antony's  departure ;  her  fond  repining  at  his  absence,  her 
violent  spirit,  her  right  royal  wilfulness  and  impatience,  as  if  it  were  a  wrong  to  her 
majerty,  an  insult  to  her  sceptre,  that  there  should  exist  in  her  despite  such  things  as 
space  and  time ;  and  high  treason  to  her  sovereign  power,  to  dare  to  remember  what 
she  chooses  to  forget 

6,  7.  this  great  gap  of  time :  My  Anthony  is  away]  The  modem  punctuation, 
either  with  or  without  a  comma  aAer  <  time,'  is,  I  think,  much  to  be  prefened  to  the 
colon  of  the  Folio,  and  yet  it  does  not  convey  exactly  the  meaning  of  the  Folio. 
According  to  the  Folio,  Cleopatra  seems  to  say  in  effect,  <  That  I  might  sleep  out 
this  great  gap  of  time.     Cannot  you  understand  ?    My  Anthony  is  away.' — Ed. 

9.  O  'tis  Treason]  Stbbvens  deemed  this  phrase  'cold  and  unmetrical,'  he, 
therefore  omitted  <  'tis.'  Walker  (  Crit,  iii,  295)  agreed  with  him  in  the  omission. 
And  both  were  anticipated  by  Capkll. 

16.  May  not  flye  forth  of  Egypt]  For  several  other  examples  of  this  somewhat 
unusual  form,  '  forth  of,'  see  Franz,  §  388,  /)  :  Compare  also,  IV,  z,  9,  <  They  have 
put  foith  the  Hauen,'  where  *  forth '  is  a  true  preposition. 


72  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  I.  sc.  v. 

What  Venus  did  with  Mars.  22 

Cleo.     Oh  Charmion : 
Where  think'ft  thou  he  is  now?  Stands  he,  or  fits  he  ? 
Or  does  he  walke?  Or  is  he  on  his  Horfe  ?  25 

Oh  happy  horfe  to  beare  the  weight  of  Anthony ! 
Do  brauely  Horfe,  for  wot'ft  thou  whom  thou  moou'ft, 
The  demy  Atlas  of  this  Earth,  the  Arme 
And  Burganet  of  men.     Hee's  fpeaking  now. 
Or  murmuring,  where's  my  Serpent  of  old  Nyle,  30 

( For  fo  he  cals  me:)  Now  I  feede  my  felfe 
With  moft  delicious  poyfon.     Thinke  on  me  32 

23.  Charmion.-]  Chaimian  ;  F,F^.  29.  m^it]  »wif  Ff,  Rowe,+,  Cap.  Var. 
Charmain ;  F  .     Charmian  I  Rowe.                Ran. 

24.  Stands  he\  Stands  F^F^.  29-34.  Mnemonic  lines,  Warb. 

28.  demy  Atlas]  demi- Atlas  Steev.  et  3'*  32*  me :').,. poy/on^  Thinke'\  m* — 
seq.                                                                       ,,. poison — thinks  Ktly. 

29.  Burganet  ]  Burgonet  Ff. 

28.  the  Arme]  Coluer  :  By  *  arm '  is  probably  to  be  understood  weapon. 

29.  Burganet]  Murray  {^N,  E.  D,)\  An  adaptation  of  Old  French  bourgutg- 
notte,  apparently  formed  on  Bourgogne,  Burgundy,  b.  A  helmet  with  a  visor,  so 
fitted  to  the  gorget  or  neck-piece,  that  the  head  could  be  turned  without  exposing 
the  neck. 

29.  men]  Although  the  reading  of  the  First  Folio  should  not  be  disturbed,  the 
reading  of  the  Folios,  *  man,'  with  its  all-embracing  scope  seems  the  finer ;  Anthony  is 
the  demi-Atlas  of  the  earth,  the  arm  and  burgonet  of  all  the  inhabitants  thereof. — Ed. 

29.  Hee's  speaking  now,  etc.]  Hazlitt  (p.  97)  :  Few  things  in  Shakespear 
(and  we  know  of  nothing  in  any  other  author  like  them)  have  more  of  that  local 
truth  of  imagination  and  character  than  the  passage  in  which  Cleopatra  is  represented 
conjecturing  what  were  the  employments  of  Antony  in  his  absence.  *  He's  speaking 
now,  or  murmuring —  Where's  my  serpent  of  old  Nile  f^  Or  again,  when  she  says  to 
Antony,  after  the  defeat  at  Actium,  and  his  summoning  up  resolution  to  risk  another 
fight — '  It  is  my  birth-day  ;  I  had  thought  to  have  held  it  poor ;  but  since  my  lord 
is  Antony  again,  I  will  be  Qeopatra.'  [This  'birthday,*  Shakespeare  fotmd  in 
Plutarch.] 

31,  32.  cals  me:)  .  .  .  Thinke]  Keightley  (Exp.  312)  :  *  For  so  he  calls  me — 
Now  I  feed  myself  With  most  delicious  poison — thinks  on  me,*  etc.  It  is  thus  I  would 
give  force  to  the  passage.  The  appeal  to  those  present  is  feeble.  [In  considering 
*  Now  I  feed  myself  With  most  delicious  poison  *  as  parenthetical,  Keightley  is 
anticipated  by  Capell.  What  Keighdey  may  gain  in  force  by  continuing  in  thinks 
the  nominative  of '  calls,*  does  he  not  lose  in  elegance  by  adopting  a  commercial  style 
in  omitting  ^/— Ed.] 

31.  Now  I  feede  my  selfe]  Seward  (Preface  to  Beaumont  &»  Fletcher,  p.  Ixvi)  : 
The  editions  which  distinguish  Antony*  s  speech,  either  by  Italics  or  commas,  make 
him  only  say,  *  where's  my  serpent  of  old  Nile?*  and  the  rest  is  Cleopatra's  own. 
But  surely  it  is  a  strange  compliment  only  to  call  her  a  <  serpent  of  Nile.'     And  whj 


ACT  I.  sc.  v.]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  73 

That  am  with  Phcebus  amorous  pinches  blacke,  33 

And  wrinkled  deepe  in  time.     Broad-fronted  Ccefar^ 

When  thou  was^t  heere  aboue  the  ground,  I  was  35 

A  morfell  for  a  Monarke  :  and  great  Pompey 

Would  fland  and  make  his  ^y^s  grow  in  my  brow, 

There  would  he  anchor  his  Afpeft,  and  dye  38 

34.  /r«^.]  Ff,  Pope,  +  ,  Wh.  i.   time!  36.  Pompey]    Pompey s    son    Anon. 

Var.  '73,  Ktly.     time  t  Rowe  et  cet.  (MS  in  Editor's  copy  of  FJ. 

36.  for  a]  of  a  F^F^,  Rowe. 

then  does  she  mention  it  as  a  wonder  that  he  should  say  such  rapturous  things  of  her 
in  her  decline  of  life  ?  No,  Antony's  speech  should  be  continued  as  the  metaphor 
is:  *  Where's  my  serpent  of  old  Nile? — Now  I  feed  myself  With  most  delicious 
poison. — '  Both  parts  belong  to  him;  and  then  she  goes  on,  '  Think,'  says  she, '  that 
he  utters  such  raptures  as  these  on  me,  tho'  now  wrinkled  deep  in  Time/  [It  is 
almost  needless  to  remark  that  no  one  has  ever  adopted  this  arrangement. — Ed.] 

32.  most  delicious  poyson]  It  is  poison  because  the  reminiscence  <  works  like 
madness  in  her  veins.* 

32-34.  Tbinke  on  me  . . .  wrinkled  deepe  in  time]  Theobald,  in  his  first 
edition  included  these  lines  in  quotation  marks,  for  which  he  has  nowhere,  that  I 
can  find,  offered  any  explanation.  It  is  not  his  custom  so  to  mark  mnemonic  lines  ; 
only  Pope  and  Warburton  thus  mark  them.  They  were  not  repeated  in  his  Second 
£di£ion, 

33.  with  Phcebus  amorous  pinches  blacke]  Hazlitt  (EliMobethan  Literature, 
p.  52,  ed.  1S69)  sajTS  that  this  line  of  Qeopatra  is  the  same  as  the  following  exclam- 
ation of  Eleazer,  the  Moor,  in  Lusfs  Dominion : — *  Now  by  the  proud  complexion 
of  my  cheeks,  Ta'en  from  the  kisses  of  the  amorous  sun.' — III,  iv,  p.  140,  ed.  Haz. 
Dodsley.  Collier  thinks  that  Lusfs  Dominion  was  probably  written  in  1599 — i6co. 
There  is,  however,  but  little  parallelism  between  the  two  passages.  It  is  only  by  a 
flight  of  fancy  that  '  kisses'  can  tura  a  fair  cheek  black  (they  generally  turn  it  red)^ 
bat  an  *  amorous  pinch '  is  a  *  feeling  disputation '  which  is  sure  to  be  followed  by 
black  traces. — Ed. 

34.  wrinkled  deepe  in  time.]  It  is  almost  impossible  to  accept  the  interrogation 
mark  which  a  large  majority  of  editors  have  followed  Rowe  in  placing  at  the  end  of 
this  sentence.  Cleopatra  is  wrapt  out  of  herself  by  the  delicious  poison,  and  apostro- 
phises the  absent  Anthony,  just  as,  in  the  next  line,  she  apostrophises  the  dead 
Caesar. — Ed. 

34.  Broad-fronted  Csesar]  Seward  (  Preface  to  Beaumont  &»  Fletcher,  p.  Ixvi) : 
Is  there  the  least  ground  from  Medals,  Statues,  or  History  for  this  description  of 
Caesar  ?  No,  but  the  very  reverse.  .  Look  on  his  medals,  and  particularly  on  the  fine 
bronze  at  Dr  Mead's,  and  you'll  find  that  he  has  a  remarkably  sharp  for ehecui.  But 
there  is  a  peculiarity  in  Caesar's  forehead  mentioned  by  all  Historians,  and  con- 
firmed by  medals  and  statues.  He  was  bald,  and  boasted  that  he  would  cover  his 
temples  with  laurels  instead  of  hair ;  and,  for  that  purpose,  af^er  he  was  Dictator,  con- 
stantly wore  his  laurel -crown.  I  read  therefore,  *  ^aAZ-fronted  Caesar.'  Henley 
sees  in  '  broad-fronted '  the  very  allusion  to  baldness  which  Seward  denies. 

38.  AspecSt]  For  a  list  of  other  words  *  in  which  the  accent  is  nearer  the  end  than 
with  us,'  see  Abbott,  §  490. 


74  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sa  v. 

With  looking  on  his  life.  39 

Enter  Alexasfrom  Cce/ar.  40 

Alex,    Soueraigne  of  Egypt,  haile. 

Cleo.    How  much  vnlike  art  thou  Marke  Anthony  ? 
Yet  comming  from  him,  that  great  Medicine  hath 
With  his  Tinft  gilded  thee. 
How  goes  it  with  my  braue  Marke  Anthonie  ?  45 

Alex.    Laft  thing  he  did  (deere  Qu  ene) 
He  kifl  the  lafl  of  many  doubled  kifTes  47 

40.  Enter...]  Enter  Alexas.  Rowe,  +  .  46.  Laft  thing\   The  very  last  tkimg 

42.  vnlike  art  thou\    art  thou  like  that  Words. 

FjF^.     art  thou  unlike  Rowe,  + .  Qu  ene]  F,. 

Anthony?]   Ff,   Rowe,  +  .     An-  ^T.  kiJl„.kiJ[fes\kift.,Mffes^Yi.    kist, 

tony ;  CoW,     Antony  /  CBp.  et  cci,  ...kisses,  Theob. 

43, 44.  that  great  Med'cine  hath  With  his  Tin  A  gilded  thee]  There  seems 
to  have  been,  of  old,  some  nicety  observed  in  the  spelling  of  Medicine.  Hanmer 
here  spells  it  <  Med'cin/  and  Capell,  who  in  his  text  spells  it,  '  Med' cine/  as  it  is  in 
the  Folio,  says  in  his  Notes  that  it  should  have  been  spelt  MetTcin^  because  '  the 
appellation  is  given  to  Antony,  as  being  the  curer  of  all  her  sorrows.'  On  the  other 
hand,  Hanmer  in  Airs  IVell,  II,  i,  74,  *l  have  seen  a  medicine  That's  able  to 
breathe  life  into  a  stone,'  spells  the  word  in  question,  Afedecine,  and,  in  a  note,  says 
it  is '  here  put  for  a  She-physician.*  So  that  according  to  Hanmer,  we  have  MecTcin, 
masculine,  Medecine,  feminine.  Walker  ( Crit.  iii,  295 )  also  thinks  that  '  medi- 
cine '  in  the  present  passage  means  physician.  Johnson  comes  nearer  the  truth,  I 
think,  when  he  says  that  there  is  here  an  allusion  <  to  the  philosophers  stone,  which, 
by  its  touch,  converts  base  metal  into  gold.  The  Alchemists  call  the  matter,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  by  which  they  perform  transmutation,  a  medicine.^  The  particular 
<  medicine '  Qeopatra  refers  to,  is,  I  think,  the  elixir  vitae,  which  is  what  Anthony 
certainly  was  to  her,  and  into  this  elixir,  gold  enters  as  an  essential  ingredient,  hence 
the  word  *  gilded.'  There  would  have  been  no  thought  that  Anthony  was  himself 
the  physician,  I  think,  had  the  use  of  its  been  so  common  that  Cleopatra  could  have 
said  *  that  great  medicine  hath  With  its  tinct  gilded  thee.'  As  to  any  distinction 
between  Med^cin  and  Medicine,  if  there  be  a  reference  to  it  in  the  N,  E.  Z>.,  it  has 
escaped  me. — Ed. 

47.  doubled  kisses]  Capell  (i,  30) :  Should  a  man  be  so  hardy,  as  to  say — 
that  <the  last  of  many  doubl'd  kisses'  is  predicated  of  the  <  pearl,'  might  he  expect 
pardon  ?  Grammar  is  on  his  side,  and  the  truth  of  construction ;  But  where  find  a 
reason  why  a  pearl  should  be  called  so  ?  The  pearl  is  met  with  in  oisters  that  are 
found  in  some  particular  seas ;  and  naturalists  tell  us, — it  is  at  first  a  small  seed,  that 
has  a  kind  of  growth  in  the  shell  it  adheres  to ;  which  growth  is  effected  by  the 
accession  of  coat  after  coat,  one  enclosing  other  in  the  manner  of  onions :  Now,  is  it 
too  great  a  liberty  for  a  poet  to  say  of  it, — that  the  fish  it's  mother  forms  those  coats 
by  a  repetition  of  touchings,  which  he  calls — *  kisses? '  if  this  will  not  be  allow' d  of, 
a  better  solution  must  be  sought  for ;  and  no  such  offers  itself  at  present  This  dr- 
cmnstance  of  the  pearl  is  not  in  Plutarch  :  but  there  is  mention  in  Pliny — of  a  peari 


ACT  I.  sc  v.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  75 

This  Orient  Pearle.     His  fpeech  flickes  in  my  heart  48 

CUo.     Mine  eare  muft  plucke  it  thence. 

Alex.     Good  Friend,  quoth  he :  S^ 

Say  the  firme  Roman  to  great  Egypt  fends 
This  treafure  of  an  Oyfter  :  at  whofe  foote 
To  mend  the  petty  prefent,  I  will  peece 
Her  opulent  Throne,  with  Kingdomes.     All  the  Eaft, 
(  Say  thou  )  (hall  call  her  Miftris.     So  he  nodded,  55 

And  foberly  did  mount  an  Arme-gaunt  Steede, 

50.  Friend^  Friends  Rowe  ii,  Pope.         M.  Mason,  Steev.  Var.  '03,  *I3,  Hazlitt 

51.  firm€\  firm  F  F^.  an  arrosrant  Boaden,  Sing.  Ktly,  Dtn. 

53.  peece\  piece  F^F^.  pace  Warb.  a  merchant  Bulloch,  an  ardent  Kin- 
Han,    space  Gtej,  near,  an  amte-^*  raunt  Gould,  a  darM 

56.  an  Arme-gaunt  ]  Ff.  an  arm-girt  Word*,  an  arm-zoned Joictj  (N  6*  Qu, 
Han.  Coll.  ii,  Wh.  Huds.    a  termagant        VII,  xii,  342). 

of  incredible  value,  belonging  to  Cleopatra ;  and  this,  it  is  probable,  was  Antony's 
*  petty  present.'  [Anthony  showed  the  wild  warmth  of  his  love  and  longing  by 
donUed  and  redoubled  kisses. — Ed.] 

48.  Orient]  Staunton  :  That  is,  pellucid,  lustrous.  [Thus,  Milton :  <  His  orient 
liquor  in  a  crystal  glass.' — Comus,  ^j.] 

51.  the  finne  Roman]  Walker  (Crit.  iii,  295)  :  What  can  'firm'  mean  here? 
Read  *ihit first  Roman.'  *But,'  asks  Dyce  (ed.  ii)  'does  not  "firm"  mean  con- 
stanif' 

52.  at  whose  foote]  Theobald  (ed.  i) :  This  has  relation  neither  to  Qeopatra, 
nor  her  throne ;  but  means,  that  in  sequel  of  the  present  sent,  he  would  second  it  with 
a  richer.     We  have  a  similar  expression  in  II,  ii,  184,  <  At  heele  of  that,  defie  him.' 

55.  peece]  Warburton:  This  expression  of  'piecing  her  throne'  is  indeed 
tolerable ;  but  barely  so.  No  bungling  carpenter  could  have  expressed  his  labour 
worse.  I  suspect  that  Shakespeare  wrote,  '  I  will  pace  Her  opulent  throne,'  1.  e.  I 
will  erect  an  imperial  throne  for  her,  and  every  step  up  to  it  shall  be  a  kingdom.  The 
expression  is  noble,  and  the  idea  vastly  magnificent.  Seward  {Preface,  p.  Izvii) : 
To  piece,  to  this  day  signifies  to  join  two  pieces  together,  or  to  fasten  new  parts 
to  anything,  as  to  piece  a  rope,  to  piece  a  beam,  I  will  join  new  kingdoms  to  her 
Dominions,  and  make  her  Queen  of  Asia  as  well  as  Egypt.  Schmidt  {Lex.  s.  v. 
Piece,  vb.  3)  to  the  same  effect  furnishes  the  following : — <  all  of  it  with  our  dis- 
pleasure pieced.' — Lear,  I,  i,  203 ;  '  I  twice  five  hundred  and  their  friends  to  piece 
'em.' — Cor.  II,  iii,  220 ;  and  two  or  three  other  examples. 

54.  opalent]  Deighton:  It  is  perhaps  doubtful  whether  this  means  'already 
opulent,'  or  '  which  shall  thereby  be  made  opulent.' 

56.  an  Arme-gaunt  Steede]  Warburton  :  That  is,  his  steed  worn  lean  and 
thin  by  much  service  in  war.  So  Fairfax,  '  His  stall-worn  steed  the  champion  stout 
bestrode.'  Seward  (Preface,  p.  Ixvii) :  Why  must  Antony  .  .  .  have  nothing  to  ride 
on  bat  an  old  battered  lean  war-horse?  ...  By  'arm'  we  all  understand  the 
shoulder,  in  Latin  armus ;  'gaunt'  is  lean  or  thin.  .  .  .  'Arm-gaunt'  therefore  sig- 
nifies thin-shouldered,  which  we  know  to  be  one  of  the  principal  beauties  of  a  horse. 
Edwards  (p.  131,  where  he  proposes,  independently,  the  same  meaning  as  Seward) : 


76  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  v. 

[56.  an  Anne-gaunt  Steede] 
Mr  Warburton  here  seems  to  have  stolen  Don  Quixote's  Rosinante,  to  mount  the  demi- 
Atlas  of  this  earth.  .  .  .  However,  he  seems  to  have  matched  him  well,  with  one  from 
Fairfax  who  is  UcUl-worn,  ,  .  .  But  Mr  Warburton,  who  made  this  match,  has  played 
us  a  Yorkshire  trick  ;  and  the  odds  are  prodigiously  on  old  FairCiuc's  side ;  for  when 
I  come  to  look  upon  him  in  his  stable,  he  is  really  not  a  stcUl-wam^  but  a  stahoortk 
steed;  now  stalworth  or  stalwart,  signifies  bold,  ctmrageous,  strong,  Heath  (p. 
452)  :  <  Arm-gaunt'  is  in  my  apprehension,  a  steed  whose  annour  fitted  him,  and  set 
close  about  him.  Johnson  :  Arm  is  the  Teutonick  word  for  want,  or  poverty, 
'Arm-gaunt'  may  be  therefore  an  old  word,  signifying  lean  for  want,  ill  fed. 
Edwards's  observation,  that  a  worn-out  horse  is  not  proper  for  Atlas  to  mount  in 
battle,  is  impertinent ;  the  horse  here  mentioned  seems  to  be  a  post-horse,  rather  than 
a  war-horse.  Yet  as  <  arm-gaunt '  seems  not  intended  to  imply  any  defect,  it  perhaps 
means,  a  horse  so  slender  that  a  man  might  clsLsp  him,  and  therefore  formed  for 
expedition.  Malone:  On  this  passage,  which  I  believe  to  be  corrupt,  I  have 
nothing  satisfactory  to  propose.  It  is  clear  that  whatever  epithet  was  used,  it  was 
intended  as  descriptive  of  a  beautiful  horse,  such  (we  may  presume)  as  our  author 
has  described  in  his  Venus  and  Adonis.  M.  Mason  :  I  should  amend  by  reading : 
'  a  termagant  steed.  That  neigh'd,'  etc.  Termagant  means  furious.  So  Douglas, 
in  Henry  IV,  is  called  the  termagant  Scot,  an  epithet  that  agrees  well  with  the 
steed's  neighing  so  high.  Besides,  by  saying  that  Antony  mounted  composedly  a 
horse  of  such  metde,  Alexas  presents  Cleopatra  with  a  flattering  image  of  her  hero, 
which  his  mounting  slowly  a  jaded  post-horse,  would  not  have  done.  Stkevens  : 
When  I  first  met  with  Mason's  conjecture,  I  own  I  was  startled  at  his  boldness ;  but 
that  I  have  since  been  reconciled  to  it,  its  appearance  in  the  present  text  of  Shak- 
speare  will  sufficiendy  prove.  The  sobriety  displayed  by  Antony  in  mounting  a  steed 
of  temper  so  opposite,  reminds  us  of  a  similar  contrast  in  Addison's  celebrated  com- 
parison of  the  Angel :  '  Calm  and  serene  he  drives  the  furious  blast'  Boswkll  : 
May  I  be  permitted  to  throw  out  a  conjecture,  as  to  which  I  myself  have  no  great  con- 
fidence. Gaunt  is  certainly  thin  ;  but  as  it  is  generally  used  in  speaking  of  animals 
made  savage  by  hunger,  such  as  2l  gaunt  wolf,  %  gaunt  mastiff,  it  is  possible  that  it 
may  derivatively  have  acquired  the  sense  of  fierce,  and  an  arm-gaunt  steed  may 
signify  a  steed  looking  fierce  in  armour.  Nares  ( Gloss.  s,v,)\  It  seems  to  me  that 
Warburton  though  he  failed  in  his  proof,  gave  the  interpretation  best  suited  to  the 
text,  worn  by  military  service.  This  implies  the  military  activity  of  the  master;  all 
the  rest  of  the  senses  are  reproachful,  and  are  therefore  inconsistent  with  the  speech 
which  is  made  to  display  the  gallantry  of  a  lover  to  his  mistress.  Dycs  (Notes,  p. 
151)  quotes  Nares  with  approval,  and  adds  that  he  has  not  the  slightest  doubt  that 
Collier' s  MS  and  Hanmer  were  right  in  their '  ^roi-girt, '  Knight  :  *  Arm-gaunt '  con- 
veys the  notion  of  a  steed  fierce  and  terrible  in  armour ;  and  the  epithet  therefore  is  not 
to  be  lightly  replaced  by  any  other.  Collier  (ed.  i)  :  '  That  is,  a  horse  which  had 
perhaps  become  gaunt  by  bearing  arms.  However  this  is  doubtful.'  Collier  in  his 
Second  Edition  adopted  the  change  of  his  MS,  arm-girt,  '  which  accords  with  Han- 
mer's  suggestion :  arm-girt  is,  of  course,  girded  with  armour.'  In  his  Third  Edition, 
he  discarded  arm-girt  and  returned  to  *  arm-gaunt '  which,  he  says,  •  is  very  intelli- 
gible, and  not  less  forcible.'  W.  N.  L[ettsom?]  (N,  6*  Qu,  I,  vii,  378,  1853) : 
This  appears  to  me  a  mere  misprint  for  rampaunt,  but  whether  rampaunt  was  Shake* 
speare's  word  or  a  transcriber's  sophistication  for  ramping  is  more  than  I  can  under- 
take to  determine.  ...  At  one  period  to  ramp  and  \q  prance  seem  to  have  been 


ACT  I,  sc.  v.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  77 

[56.  an  Anne-gaunt  Steede] 
ayiHiujmons.     Spenser  makes  the  horses  of  night  *  fiercely  ramp/  and  Surrey  exhibits 
m. prancing  lion.     R.  G.  White  {^Sh.^s  Scholar^  1854,  p.  448)  made  the  same  emen- 
dation.    PERRING  (p.  436)  also  approTes,  and,  on  the  suppositioQ  that  the  phrase 
oiiginally  stood  on  a  rampaunt^  furnishes  an  imaginary  genealogy  of  the  word  as  we 
BOW  hare  it,  thus : — arampaunt,  aramgauni^  amigauni.      Singer  :   The  epithet, 
arrogant  [adopted  in  Singer's  text],  is  the  happy  suggestion  of  Mr  fioaden,  and  is  to 
be  preferred,  both  on  account  of  its  more  striking  propriety  and  because  it  admits  of 
the  original  article,  <  an '  retaining  its  place  before  it.     R.  G.  White  :  Being  able  to 
disooTer  no  meaning  in  *  arme-gaunt,'  I  hardly  hesitate  to  substitute  Hanmer's  arm- 
girt,     Haluwell:  'Arm-gaunt,'  that  is,  a  steed  as  thin  as  one's  arm,  one  worn 
lean  and  thin  by  excessive  service  in  war.     Chaucer  hsLS  a  similar  compound,  arm- 
greity  as  large  as  the  arm, — *  His  lange  heer  y-kempt  byh)md  his  bak,  As  eny  raven 
lether  it  schon  for  blak.     A  wrethe  of  gold  arm-gret,  and  huge  of  wigbte,  upon  his 
lieed,'  etc.— [  The  Knightes  Tale,  line  1285,  ed.  Morris.]    Staunton  :  If  the  original 
lection  be  genuine,  which  we  doubt, '  gaunt '  must  be  understood  to  mean  fierce^  eager. 
Walker  (  Crit,  iii,  297)  adopts  Mason's  *  termaganty  of  course,'  and  adds,  *  Terma- 
gmmi  nuij  have  been  written  iearmagani^  as  cieargie,  and  some  other  old  forms,  among 
the  rest  tearme.  .  .  .  But  I  rather  think  it  was  written  tarmagaunt,     Hamlet  of  1603, 
— ^I  would   have  such  a  fellow  whipt,  for  o'redoing   tarmagant."  .  .  .  The  old 
qwllings,  **  Anne-gaunt "  and  tarmagaunt  render  the  mistake  easily  intelligible.' 
Lxttsom  (Walker's  editor)  in  a  footnote  to  the  foregoing, '  confesses  that  he  cannot 
agree  with  Walker  in  his  approbation  of  Mason,'  and  justly  says  that, '  Termagant  in 
the  sense  of  violent  is  essentially  a  comic  word.'    Dyce  rehearses  various  emendations, 
without  expressing  any  opinion  other  than  that  Mason's  termagant  is  'very  bad.' 
Krightley  [^Exp,  312)  :  The  best  correction  seems  to  be  that  of  Boaden  and  myself, 
arrogant;  we  might  also  read  ardent;  or  angry,     I  had,  like  M.  Mason,  conjectured 
termagant;  but  that  term  is  never  applied  to  an  animal.     John  Hunter:  We 
think  *  arm-gatmt '  refers  to  the  angular  parts  of  the  horse's  armour,  as  resembling 
the  projecting  bones  of  a  lean  or  gaunt  animal.     Schmidt  {Lex,) :  There  is  in  old 
English  another  '  gaunt,'  the  German  ganz,  signifying  whole^  healthful^  lusty ^  and 
'  arm-gaunt '  may  mean  completely  armed,  harnessed,  or  rather  :  lusty  in  arms,  full 
of  life  and  spirits  even  under  the  weight  of  arms.     R.  M.  Spence  (N,  &*  Qu.  1878, 
V,  X,  244)  !  Of  the  one  adjective  I  make  two,  *  arm'd  gaunt'     I  regard  it  as  an  error 
not  of  sight  but  of  hearing.     Let  any  one  pronounce  the  two  words,  and,  unless  his 
utterance  be  more  than  ordinarily  distinct,  ten  to  one  his  arm*  d gaunt  will  reach  the 
car  of  his  auditor  as  arm-gaunt.     In  this  case  the  printer  has  only  too  faithfully  fol- 
kmed  the  amanuensis.     J.  D.   (iV.  6r*  Qu,  1879,  V,  xii,  163)  on  the  authority  of 
Tke  Gentleman's  Dictionary,  1705,  accepts  arm  as  denoting  in  Shakespeare's  time, 
•  the  fore- thigh,  or  upper  part  of  the  fore-leg  of  a  horse.    **  Arm-gaunt "  means,  there- 
fore,' he  says,  'slender  in  the  fore-thigh,  or  fore-leg,  and  is  equivalent  to  high-bred,* 
B.  Nicholson  (N,  <Sr*  Qu.  1892,  VIII,  i,  182)  suggests  that  ^tf«/»/ might  have  been 
the  perfect  participle  gauntedy  where  the  final  -ed  had  been  absorbed  in  the  final  /  of 
gaunt,  and  inasmuch  as  this,  *  as  shown  by  gauntlet,  is  derived  from  the  French  gant, 
"arm-gaunt"  is  armour-gloved.      A  poetic  metaphor,  and  one  which   beautifully 
expresses  how  the  armourer  so  metal-gloved  his  steed  as  not  to  impede  any  of  his 
natural  actions.'     Rolfe  :  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  is  a  misprint     The  poet's  word 
was  not  improbably  rampaunt,  though  the  article  *  an  '  favours  arrogant.     MURRAY 
(N,  E,  D,  s,  V,  Arm.  sb  *,  III) :  Meaning  not  certainly  known.    ?  with  gaunt  limbs. 


78  THE  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  i,  sc.  t. 

Who  neigh'd  fo  hye,  that  what  I  would  haue  fpoke,  57 

Was  beaftly  dumbe  by  him. 

CUo.    What  was  he  fad,  or  merry  ? 

Alex.  Like  to  the  time  oWyeare,  between  y  extremes  60 

57.  kye\  high  F^F^.  sad,,,  between  ,.,iad„,du^cnHm  ...  note 

58.  beaftly\  beastlike  Han.  Om. Words.        him,  Han. 

dumbe'\  F,.    dumb  F,F^,  Rowe,  59.  Whai^   Ff.     What!  Coll   Wh. 

Pope,  Johns.  Var.  '73,  Sing,     drowned  What^  Rowe  ct  cet 

Bailey,     dumb'd  Theob.  et  cet  /ad,'\  F,.    fad  F^F^. 

59-62.  What,,, note  him.']  Lines  end,  60.  dth*]  oth*  Ff. 


[If  <  Arme-gaunt '  be  not  a  misprint,  it  is  so  near  it  that  it  might  as  well  be  one  oat- 
right,  and  live  up  to  its  character.  Some  of  the  best  editors  and  critics  have  so 
deemed  it  In  view  of  the  formidable,  not  to  say  appalling  combination  of  equine 
qualities  and  armourer's  art  which  has  been  detected  in  this  adjective,  Anthony  would 
have  been  more  than  mortal  had  he  not  approached  his  steed  with  extreme  caution, 
and  mounted  it  *  soberly.' — Ed.] 

58.  Was  beastly  dumbe  by  him]  Theobald  :  Alexas  means,  the  horse  made 
such  a  neighing,  that  if  he  had  spoke  he  could  not  have  been  heard.  I  suspect  the 
poet  wrote,  « Was  beastly  dumb'd  by  him,'  i.  e,  put  to  silence.  Thus  in  Perieles,  V, 
Prologue  5,  *  Deep  clerks  she  dumbs.'  Warburton  :  Shakespeare  wrote  :  *  Who 
neigh'd  so  Iinui,  that  what  I  would  have  spoke  Was  beastly  done  by  him,'  t.  e.  the 
sense  of  what  I  would  have  spoke  the  horse  declared,  tho'  in  inarticulate  sounds. 
[No  space  on  any  page  can  be  so  precious  that  room  should  not  be  found  on  it  for 
this  Warburtonian  gem.]  Coluer  {Emend,  p.  488)  :  The  MS  gives,  *  Was  boast- 
fully  dumb'd  by  him.'  One  slight  objection  to  this  change  is  that  boastfully  must  be 
read  as  a  disyllable,  and  such  is  the  case  with  various  words.  .  .  .  Boastfully  might 
be,  and  probably  was,  mbprinted  *  beastly.*  Dyce  (Notes ^  p.  152)  :  But  why  did 
the  MS  alter  <  beastly '  to  boastfully  (which  I  should  have  thought  nobody  could 
*  read  as  a  disyllabic,'  had  not  Mr  Collier  declared  that  it  '  must  be  read  as  such ' )  ? 
Merely  because  he  happened  not  to  perceive  the  meaning  which  Shakespeare  evidently 
intended  *  beastly '  to  convey,  viz.  in  the  manner  of  a  becut, — i.  e.  by  inarticulate 
sounds  which  rendered  vain  all  attempts  at  speaking  on  the  part  of  Alexas.  Singer  : 
< Dumbe'  was  altered  by  Theobald  without  necessity.  The  arrogant  steed,  says 
Alexas,  would  let  no  sound  be  heard  but  his  own,  he  neighed  so  loud  that  what  I 
would  have  spoke  was  made  unintelligible,  no  better  than  the  sound  of  a  dumb 
animal.  Walker  (Crit,  ii,  61)  gives  the  present  *  dumbe*  as  the  first  example 
under  his  •  Article,  Ixii,'  which  treats  of  *  final  d  and  final  e  confounded.*  He  con- 
cludes, of  course,  that  the  true  word  is  dumb'd.  This  confusion  he  attributes  mainly 
(and  his  editor,  Lettsom,  agrees  with  him)  to  some  peculiarity  in  the  old  method  of 
writing  the  final  e  or  d.  This  may  be  so,  but  in  a  number  of  cases,  this  cbnfusion  is 
due,  I  think,  either  to  the  imperfect  pronunciation  of  the  reader  who  read  aloud  the 
copy  to  the  compositor,  or  else  to  the  failure  of  the  compositor  to  catch  the  reader's 
full  pronunciation.  See  *  vouchsafe,'  I,  iv,  10 ;  *  Tawny  fine,'  II,  v,  16,  and  *  Or 
looke  on  thine,'  V,  i,  49. — Ed. 

59.  What  was  he  sad,  or  merry  ?]  Neither  the  punctuation  of  the  Folio  nor 
that  of  Rowe,  which  has  been  almost  uniformly  followed,  seems  to  me  quite  correct. 
I  should  prefer,  as  more  natural,  *  What  was  he,  sad  or  merry  ? ' — Ed. 


ACT  I,  sc.  v.]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  79 

CX  hot  and  cold^  he  was  nor  fad  nor  merrie.  61 

Cleo.     Oh  well  diuided  difpofition:  Note  him^ 
Note  him  good  Charmiauj  'tis  the  man  ;  but  note  him. 
He  was  not  fad;  for  he  would  fhine  on  thofe 
That  make  their  lookes  by  his.     He  was  not  merrie,  6$ 

Which  feemM  to  tell  them,  his  remembrance  lay 
In  Egypt  with  his  ioy,  but  betweene  both. 
Oh  heauenly  mingle  !  Bee'ft  thou  fad,  or  merrie, 
The  violence  of  either  thee  becomes. 
So  do's  it  no  mans  elfe.     Met'ft  thou  my  Ports  ?  70 

Alex.     I  Madam,  twenty  feuerall  Meflengers. 
Why  do  you  fend  fo  thicke? 

Qeo.  Who's  borne  that  day,  when  I  forget  to  fend 
to  AnthonUy  fhall  dye  a  Begger.  Inke  and  paper  Char- 
mian.     Welcome  my  good  Alexas,     Did  I  Charmiany  e-  75 

uer  loue  Ca/ar  fo  ? 

Char.     Oh  that  braue  Ccefar ! 

Cleo.     Be  choak'd  with  fuch  another  Emphafis, 
Say  the  braue  Anthony. 

Char.    The  valiant  Ccefar.  80 

Qeo.     By  I/&,  I  will  giue  thee  bloody  teeth, 
If  thou  with  CcBfar  Parago  nagaine  :  82 

61.  nor  fad^  not  fad  F^F^,  Rowe,  72-76.  Why..,for\  F(.  Lines  end, 
Pope,  Han.                                                       day, ...  Anthonie,  ...  Charmtan.  ...  Cbar- 

62.  Note  Aim,"]  Om.  Pope,  +.  mian,  .../<?/  Rowe  et  seq. 

63.  Chaimian]  Charmain  F^.  82.  Parago  nagaine\  F,. 
7a  mans']  man  Ff  et  seq. 

68b  mingle]  For  many  other  words  sunilarly  used  as  nouns,  see  Abbott,  {451. 

68.  Bee'st  thou]  Abbott  ({  298) :  Be,  Beest,  etc.  were  used  in  Anglo-Saxon 
generally  in  a  fntore  sense.  Hence,  since  the  future  and  subjunctive  are  closely 
connected  in  meaning,  be  assumed  an  exclusively  subjunctiye  use  ;  and  this  was  so 
common,  that  we  not  only  find  <  if  it  ^^ '  (which  might  represent  the  proper  inflected 
iabjuDCtiye  of  ^^),  but  also  '  if  thou  beest^  where  the  indicative  is  used  subjunctively. 

70.  80  do's  it  no  mans  else]  That  is,  '  So  does  it  as  no  man  else.'  For  other 
examples  of  the  omission  of  as,  see  Abbott,  §  281.  '  Mans '  is  here  one  of  the  very 
many  instances  gathered  by  Walker  (  Crit,  i,  240)  of  *■  the  final  s  interpolated  and 
omitted  in  the  First  Folio,'  see  I,  iv,  11. 

73,  74.  Who's  borne  that  day,  .  .  .  shall  dye  a  Begger]  There  is  no  hidden 
meaning  here,  I  think  ;  it  is  simply  that  the  day  shall  be  ill-omened,  or  as  Constance 
says  in  King  John,  *  This  day  all  things  begun,  come  to  ill  end.' — Ed. 

82.  Parago  nagaine :]  Thiselton  (p.  10) :  The  colon  after  '  againe '  was  prob- 
ably deliberately  placed  there  to  indicate  by  a  pause  a  special  emphasis  on  the  suc- 
ceeding *  My  man  of  men.' 


8o  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  i.  sc.  v. 

My  man  of  men.  83 

Char.     By  your  moft  gracious  pardon, 
I  fmg  but  after  you.  85 

Cleo.     My  Sallad  dayes, 
When  I  was  greene  in  iudgement,  cold  in  blood, 
To  fay,  as  I  faide  then.     But  come,  away. 
Get  me  Inke  and  Paper, 

he  fhall  haue  eueiy  day  a  feuerall  greeting,  or  He  vnpeo-  90 

pie  Egypt.  Exeunt 

87-88.  iudgement, . . Moifd, . . .M«i.]  Ff,  89-91 .  Get. ^.Egypt  ]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pbpc, 

Rowe.  judgement^, „blaod ! ,,Jhtn.  Pope.  Theob.  Warb.  Lines end,/a/^/...^^rf- 

judgement^ ...  blood!  ...  thtn^ —   Theob.  ing.,. Egypt  Johns.  Var.  '21,  Coll.  Sing. 

judgement.  ...  blood!  ...  then^ —   Warb.  Dyce,  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.   day... Egypt 

Johns.  Var.  '73.   judgemerU^  ...blood;...  Han.  et  cet. 

then  !Csi^.  Hunter,  Sta.    judgementy —  90.  a  feuerall  greeting'] /everall greet- 

...blood,  ...then  !  yf\i.  \.    judgement!...  ing  YJPy     several  greetings  F^,  Rowe, 

blood,  ...then!  Ktly.  judgement :... blood.  Pope,  Theob.  Waib. 
...then  I  Var.  '78  et  cet 

86-88.  My  Sallad  dayes,  When  I  was  greene  in  iudgement,  cold  in  blood* 
To  say,  as  I  saide  then.]  Theobald  questions  the  propriety  of  '  sallad,'  and  calcu- 
lates the  age  of  Cleopatra,  when  she  was  in  love  with  Caesar,  to  be  twenty  years. 
He  then  goes  on  to  say  that,  '  If  an  ^Egyptian  could  at  those  years  have  reason  to 
complain  of  coldness  of  blood,  she  must  have  a  very  particular  constitution.'  But  he 
concludes  by  upholding  Shakespeare,  who  found  his  authority  in  Plutarch's  report  that 
Cleopatra  was  <  but  a  young  thing '  when  she  knew  Caesar  and  Pompey,  and  that  she 
fell  in  love  with  Anthony  in  the  prime  of  her  beauty.  (See  Appendix,  Plutarch. )  War- 
burton  inflicts  what  it  is  difficult  to  regard  as  other  than  an  injury  to  the  text,  by  giving 
what  he  calls,  '  Shakespear's  best  justification '  in  '  restoring  his  own  sense,  which  is 
done  merely  by  a  different  pointing  : — «  My  sallad  days :  When  I  was  green  in 
judgment  Cold  in  blood  I  To  say  as  I  said  then."  Cold  in  blood,  is  an  upbraid- 
ing expostulation  to  her  maid.  Those,  says  she,  were  my  sallad  days,  when  I  was 
green  in  judgment;  but  your  blood  is  as  cold  as  my  judgment,  if  you  have  the  same 
opinion  of  things  now  as  I  had  then.^  This  punctuation,  and  interpretation  have  been 
substantially  followed  down  to  this  very  hour.  Boswell  remarks  that  *  cold  and 
green  seem  to  be  suggested  by  the  metaphor  sallad  days.'  Wherein  he  is  right ;  what 
he  should  have  added  is  that  both  apply,  not  to  Charmian,  but  to  Cleopatra.  What  to 
her  was  the  temperature  of  Charmian's  blood  ?  The  coldness  had  been  her  own,  and 
she  was  finding  excuses  for  having  *  ever  loved  Caesar  so.'  If  those  were  her  sallad 
days  they  were  as  inevitably  both  g^reen  and  cold.  The  abruptness  of  the  phrase,  *  To 
say,  as  I  said  then ! '  intensifies  its  scorn.  It  is  parallel  to  her  reply  in  a  previous 
scene,  *  Thou  teachest  like  a  fool !  The  way  to  lose  him  I '  and  in  a  succeeding 
scene,  *  so  tart  a  favour  To  trumpet  such  good  tidings.' — II,  v,  48 ;  and  in  Enobar- 
bus's  speech,  *  That  he  should  dreame  ...  the  full  Caesar  will  answer  his  emptinesse.' 
— Ill,  xiii,  39.  Hanmer*s  punctuation  seems  to  me  exactly  right :  *  My  sallad  days! 
When  I  was  green  in  judgment,  cold  in  blood  !     To  say,  as  I  said  then  !  * — Ed. 

90,  91.  He  vnpeople  Egypt]  Johnson  :  By  sending  out  messengers. 


ACT  II.  sc.  i.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  8 1 


\A6lus  Secunda.     Scene  /.] 


Enter  Pompeyj  Menecrates,  and  Menus  ^  in 

warlike  manner. 
Pom.     If  the  great  Gods  be  iuft,  they  fhall  aflift  3 

Act  II.    Scene  i.  Rowe.     The  scene  In  Sicily.  Rowe.   Messina.   A  Room 

omitted,  Gar.  Kemble.  in  Pompey's  Hoose.  Cap. 

I,  2.  in  warlike  manner.]  Om.  Rowe. 

I.  Menecrates,  and  Menas]  Johnson  :  The  persons  are  so  named  in  the  first 
edition.  I  know  not  why  Menecrates  appears ;  Menas  can  do  all  without  him.  [In 
the  following  note,  CapeH  endeavours  to  prove  that  a  judicious  discrimination  will 
distinguish  Menas  from  Menecrates;  that  ^ Mene^  in  line  5,  should  be  Menas;  and 
that,  furthermore,  Warburton's  emendation,  delays  for  'decayes'  is  just.]  Capell 
(i,  31 ) :  All  the  speeches  in  this  scene,  except  one  by  Varrius,  are  given  by  the  Folios 
to  Pompey  and  Menecrates  only  ;  this  was  such  a  palpable  error  with  respect  to  one 
of  them  [line  49]  that  it  stands  corrected  in  all  the  modems,  and  of  that  speech 
Menas  is  made  the  S|>eaker,  and  so  he  should  be  of  [that  in  line  5].  A  little  reflec- 
tion upon  the  characters  of  the  parties  in  question,  will  set  the  whole  of  this  scene 
in  the  clearest  light;  and  shew,  withal,  the  propriety  of  both  these  corrections 
[namely,  Menas  for  Mene,  in  line  5,  and  Warburton's  delays']  :  The  character  of 
Pompey  is  mark'd  by — a  high  sense  of  honour ;  and  by  a  natural  honesty,  join'd 
with  irresolution  and  a  backwardness  to  engage  in  great  actions :  that  of  Menas  has 
nothing  particular,  but  that  he  is  Pompey's  fast  friend  :  Menecrates  is  also  his  friend ; 
but  not  in  favour,  like  Menas,  from  being  discontented,  and  disapproving  his  patron's 
conduct :  Thus  stated,  the  characters  themselves  will  point  out  who  the  speeches 
belong  to :  he  who  speaks  in  the  second  agrees  with  Pompey,  in  thinking — that  the 
gods  would  befriend  them  at  last ;  but,  delivering  his  opinion  in  the  form  of  a  maxim, 
'what' they  do  delay,  they  not  deny,'  the  other  takes  occasion  from  one  of  those 
words  to  tell  him — that  there  was  a  delay  which  he  should  make  his  chief  petition 
to  heaven,  meaning — a  delay  of  the  preparations  against  him  :  this  is  taken  up  by 
Menecrates,  whose  dissent  is  worded  also  in  maxims,  a  respectful  way  of  expressing 
dissent;  intimating  by  them, — that  his  opinion  was  rather,  that  Pompey  himself 
should  prepare,  and  attack  the  triumvirs  before  their  whole  strength  was  gathered 
together :  and  this  speech  of  Menecrates  is  a  most  unanswerable  argument  in  favour 
of  the  latter  amendment  [delays'],  and  no  small  one  in  that  of  the  first  [Menas  for 
Men^.]  ;  for,  unless  delays  be  admitted,  no  reason  can  be  assigned  for  making  the 
reflections  contain' d  in  it ;  and,  if  he  be  the  maker  of  them,  he  could  not  be  so  of 
that  in  the  other  speech,  their  tendencies  being  so  contrary.  Malone  :  I  have  given 
the  first  two  speeches  to  Menecrates,  and  the  rest  to  Menas.  It  is  a  matter  of  little 
consequence.  [For  Johnson's  suggestion  that  this  Scene  might  be  included  in  the 
First  Act,  see  the  beginning  of  the  next  Scene.] 

3.  they  shall  assist]  Staunton  :  The  precision  now  observable  in  the  employ- 
ment of  shall  and  'unll  in  the  best  writers  was  not  regarded  in  Shakespeare's  day. 
He  conomonly  follows  the  old  custom  of  using  the  former  for  the  latter  to  denote  futur- 
6 


82  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sa  L 

The  deeds  of  iufteft  men. 

Mene.     Know  worthy  Pampey^  that  what  they  do  de-  5 

lay,  they  not  deny. 

Pont.     Whiles  we  are  Tutors  to  their  Throne,  decayes 
the  thing  we  fue  for. 

Mene.    We  ignorant  of  our  felues, 
Begge  often  our  owne  harmes,  which  the  wife  Powres  10 

Deny  vs  for  our  good  :  fo  finde  we  profit 
By  loofing  of  our  Prayers.  12 

5.  Mene.]  Menas.  Cap.  conj.  7,  8.  decayes,,, for]  One  line,  Rowe. 

5,  6.  that,,, deny]  One  line,  Rowe  et  7.  decayes]  delays  Warb.  Cap. 

seq.  8.  the]  The  Pope  et  seq. 

5.  what]  which  Tf,  Rowe.  9.  IVe]  IVe,  Rowe. 

7.  Whiles]  While  ¥^^f  Rowe,  +  .  12.  loofing]  lofing¥^^, 

ity,  whether  in  the  second  and  third  persons  or  in  the  first  [There  is  more  than  sim- 
ple futurity  in  the  present  '  shall ; '  there  is  a  futurity  so  inevitable  that  it  is  equivalent 
to  must,    Abbott  ({  315)  has  gathered  several  similar  uses  oi  shall, — Ed.] 

7.  decayes]  Warburton  ;  Thisnonsenseshouldreadthus:  </ir/nyx.  Menecrates 
had  said,  '  The  Gods  do  not  deny  that  which  they  delay.'  Theother  turns  his  words 
to  a  different  meaning,  and  replies,  '  Delay  is  the  very  thing  we  beg  of  them,'  t.  e.  the 
delay  of  our  enemies  in  making  preparations  against  us ;  which  he  explains  afier- 
wards,  by  saying  Mark  Antony  was  tied  up  by  lust  in  Egypt ;  Caesar  by  avarice 
at  Rome ;  and  Lepidus  employed  in  keeping  well  with  both.  [This  emendation  of 
Warburton  would  have  been  relegated  to  the  Text,  Notes,  had  it  not  beguiled  as 
sensible  an  editor  as  Capell.]  Heath  :  (p.  453)  :  This  emendation  of  Mr  War- 
burton's  is  certainly  nonsense,  whatever  becomes  of  the  common  text  which  he  is 
pleased  to  call  so.  Who  ever  prayed  for  success  in  any  enterprize,  and  at  the  same 
time  prayed  that  that  success  might  be  delayed  as  long  as  he  should  pray  for  it? 
Besides  the  reply  of  Menecrates  plainly  implies  that  delay  was  not  the  thing  sued 
for ;  but  something  else  which  was  for  the  present  denied ;  which  could  not  be 
delay,  since  Pompey  was  already  in  possession  of  that,  but  must  be  the  attainment 
of  the  empire.  The  ancient  reading  is  undoubtedly  the  true  one.  The  sense  is, 
While  we  are  wearying  the  Gods  with  prayers,  the  very  thing  we  are  praying  for, 
that  is  the  empire,  is  falling  into  decay  and  ruin  by  the  ill  conduct  of  my  comf>etitors, 
by  the  luxurious  indolence  of  Antony,  the  avaricious  extortions  of  Caesar,  and  by  the 
msincerity  and  private  views  of  all  the  three  triumvirs.  Johnson  :  The  meaning  is, 
'  While  we  are  praying,  the  thing  for  which  we  pray  is  losing  its  value, ' 

9-12.  We  ignorant  of  our  selues, .  • .  By  loosing  of  our  Prayers]  Theobald 
lefers  to  the  parallelism  between  these  lines  and  the  following  from  Juvenal's  Tenth 
Satire,  *  Quid  enim  ratione  timemus,  Aut  cupimus  ?  quid  tam  dextro  pede  concipb, 
nt  te  Conatds  non  poeniteat,  votique  peracli  ?  Evert^re  domos  tolas,  optantibus  ipsis, 
Dl  faciles.  [lines  4-8]. ...  Si  consilium  vis,  Permittes  ipsis  expendere  numinibus,  quid 
Conveniat  nobis,  rebusque  sit  utile  nostris.  Nam,  pro  jucundis,  aptissima  quseque 
dabunt  Dl.  Carior  est  illis  homo,  quam  sibi.'  [Lines  346-350.]  Walker  (  Crit,  i, 
153)  also  calls  attention  to  these  lines  of  Juvenal ;  and  J.  Churton  Coluns  {Studies^ 


ACT  11,  sc  i.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  83 

Pom.     I  (hall  do  well  .*  13 

The  people  loue  me,  and  the  Sea  is  mine ; 

My  powers  are  Creffent,  and  my  Auguring  hope  15 

Sayes  it  will  come  to'thYuU.     Marke  Anthony 
In  Egypt  fits  at  dinner^  and  will  make 
No  warres  without  doores.     CcBfar  gets  money  where 
He  loofes  hearts  :  Lepidus  flatters  both^ 

Of  both  is  flatter'd  :  but  he  neither  loues^  20 

Nor  either  cares  for  him. 

Mene.     Ca/ar  and  Lepidus  are  in  the  field, 
A  mighty  ftrength  they  carry. 

Pom,     Where  haue  you  this  ?  'Tis  falfe. 

Mene,     From  St/uius,  Sir.  25 

Pom.Hc  dreames  :  I  know  they  are  in  Rome  together 

15.  /oners  art"]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Coll.  22,  23.  are,„carry]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Dyce,  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Su.  Ktly.  poufr^s  Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Var.  Mai.  Sta. 
4  Theob.  et  ceC.                                               Separate  line,  Han.  et  cet 

CreffnWl  Crefcent  F,F^.  25.  Siluius]  SUvia  F^. 

16.  ii'\  they  Gould.  26,  27.  ffe,„Looking'\  Separate  line, 
/a*M']  to  tk?  FjF^.     to  the  Coll.            Han. 

19.  ioo/es]  lo/es  F^.  26.  /  hnoui]  Om.  Han. 

etc.,  p.  29)  says  that  we  cannot  *  attribute  to  mere  coincidence  the  terse  translation  * 
pTen  of  the  foregoing  lines  in  the  present  passage.  *  Again  *  observes  Collins,  p.  28, 
'  Jnyenal  was  not  translated  into  English  until  after  Shakespeare's  death,  but  that 
be  had  read  him  seems  certain.' 

12.  By  loosing  of  our  Prayers]  See  Abbott  ({  178)  for  other  examples  of  the 
nie  of  0/  after  verbal  nouns,  and  especially  where  there  is  a  preposition  before  the 
verbal  noan  rendering  the  substantive  use  of  the  latter  evident. 

15,  16.  My  powers  are  Cressent,  and  my  Auguring  hope  Sayes  it  wilt 
eome  to'th'fuU]  Theobald  :  What  does  the  relative  *  it '  refer  to  ?  It  cannot  in 
sense  relate  to  *  hope  *,  nor  in  concord  to  *  powers.'  It  is  evident  beyond  a  doubt,  that 
the  poef  s  allusion  is  to  the  moon ;  and  that  Pompey  would  say,  He  is  yet  but  a  half- 
moon,  or  crescent;  but  his  hopes  tell  him,  that  crescent  will  come  to  2.  full  orb.  Dyce  : 
Theobald's  change  though  adopted  by  all  his  successors,  except  Mr  Collier,  appears 
to  me  a  very  hasty  alteration  :— our  old  writers  frequently  make  *  it '  refer  to  a  pre- 
ceding plural  substantive.  [It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Dyce  did  not  give  some  of 
these  instances.  It  is  probable  that  in  all  of  them  there  would  have  been  found 
some  nonn,  in  the  singular,  interposed  between  the  plural  antecedent  and  its  singular 
rdative^  whereby  the  relative  becomes  singular  by  attraction.  In  the  present  case, 
*it'  refers  to  *  powers,'  but  'crescent,'  although  an  adjective,  is,  in  the  imagination 
of  the  speaker,  a  singular  and,  consequently,  by  its  proximity,  throws  the  relative  '  it' 
mto  the  singular  also. — Ed.] 

20.  he  neither  loues]  That  is,  neither  Caesar  nor  Anthony. 


84  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  i. 

Looking  for  Anthony  :  but  all  the  charmes  of  Loue,  2y 

Salt  Cleopatra  foften  thy  wand  lip^ 

27.  the\  Om.  Steev.  Varr.  Glo.  Cam.  Coll.  iii.  'wa$Uon  Ktly.  warned 

28.  Cleopatra]  CUopaira,  Rowe.  Steev.  et  ceL 

wand^  Ff,  Rowe,  Coll.  i.     wan  28.  /i>,]  Ff,  Rowe,  P<^.    Up;  ColL 

Pope,  + ,  Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.    waned        lip  /  Theob.  et  cet. 

28.  Salt]  That  is,  most  wanton. 

28.  soften  thy  wand  lip]  Theobald  (Nichols,  ii,  501)  *  suspects'  that  'wand/ 
or  as  he  has  it  in  his  text,  after  Pope,  wan,  should  be  warm,  but  as  he  made  00 
later  allusion  to  this  conjecture,  it  is  to  be  inferred  that  he  withdrew  it.  Johnson 
makes  the  same  conjecture,  as  well  as  *  perhaps,  /md.'  Steevens  :  '  Wand/  if  it 
stand,  is  either  a  corruption  of  wan,  the  adjective,  or  a  contraction  of  wanned^  or 
made  wan,  a  participle.  So,  in  Hamlet :  '  That,  from  her  working,  all  his  visage 
wan'd*  Again,  in  Beau,  and  Fl.  Queen  of  Corinth:  'Now  you  look  wan  and 
pale  ;  lips^  ghosts  you  are.'  [IV,  i.]  Or  perhaps  waned  lip,  r.  e.  decreased,  like  the 
moon,  in  its  beauty.  Yet  this  expression  of  Pompey's,  perhaps,  after  all,  implies  a 
wish  only,  that  every  charm  of  love  may  confer  additional  softness  on  the  lips 
of  Cleopatra :  t .  e.  that  her  beauty  may  improve  to  the  ruin  of  her  lover ;  or,  as 
Ritson  expresses  the  same  idea,  that  *  her  lip,  which  was  become  pale  and  dty  with 
age,  may  recover  the  colour  and  softness  of  her  sallad  days.'  The  epithet  wan  might 
indeed  have  been  added,  only  to  show  the  speaker*  s  private  contempt  of  it.  Percy  : 
Shakspeare's  orthography  often  adds  a  </  at  the  end  of  a  word.  Thus,  *  vile '  is  (in 
the  old  editions)  everywhere  spelt  vild,  *  Laund '  is  given  instead  oi  laton:  why  not 
therefore  wand  for  wan  here  ?  If  this  however  should  not  be  accepted,  suppose  we 
read  with  the  addition  only  of  an  apostrophe,  wan'd;  i.  e,  waned,  declined,  gone  off 
from  its  perfection  ;  comparing  Cleopatra's  beauty  to  the  moon  past  the  full.  Coluer 
(ed.  i)  :  It  may  be  doubted  whether  '  wand  '  and  '  lip '  ought  not  to  be  united  by  a 
hyphen ;  '  wand  '  probably  has  reference  to  Cleopatra's  power  of  enchantment, — ^that 
her  lip  is  as  potent  as  a  magician's  wand  ;  and  this  construction  seems  warranted  by 
what  immediately  follows:  'Let  witchcraft  join  with  beauty.'  'Wand'  is  the 
•witchcraft'  and  Mip'  the  'beauty.*  Dyce  {Remarks,  p.  245)  :  What  Mr  Collier 
says  here  about  Cleopatra's  '  wand-lip,'  i.  e.  lip  as  potent  as  a  magician's  wand, 
cannot  be  allowed  the  merit  of  originality ;  at  least,  it  had  been  previously  said  in  that 
mass  of  folly,  ignorance,  and  conceit,  Jackson's  Shakespeare's  Genitis  Justified ;  and 
one  can  hardly  suppose  that  such  a  wild  fancy  would  spring  up  spontaneously  in  the 
brains  of  two  commentators.  Not  even  in  L3rcophron,  the  most  enigmatical  of  poets, 
is  there  any  expression  half  so  far-fetched  or  so  strangely  compounded  as  wand-lip  ! 
Whether  the  word  be  written  wand  or  wan^d^  it  is  evidently  the  past  participle  of  the 
verb  wane ;  Cleopatra  herself  has  previously  touched  on  the  decrease  of  her  beauty: 
*  with  Phoebus'  amorous  pinches  black  And  wrinkled  deep  in  time.*  Coluer,  in  his 
Second  Edition  makes  no  allusion  to  his  extravagant  suggestion  of  a  wizard's  wand, 
— it  cannot  be  enlivening  to  be  coupled  with  Zachary  Jackson, — ^but  restricts  himself 
to  recording  that  his  MS  has  warm,  and  the  safe  remark  that  *  **  wan'd  "  ought  prob- 
ably to  be  taken  as  waned,  i.  e.  a  lip  that  is  on  the  wane.'  Keightley's  text  reads 
wanton  *  in  the  sense  of  soft,  yielding,  like  "  the  wanton  rushes," — /  //en.  /V:  III,  i,' 
and  he  'strongly  suspects  \^Exp. p-  313]  that  the  poet's  word  may  have  been  tann^d^ 
spelt  of  course  land.     She  is  more  than  once  called  gypsy;  she  has  "a  tawny  fronL" ' 


ACT  u,  sc.  L]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TEA  8$ 

Let  Witchcraft  loyne  with  Beauty,  Luft  with  both, 

Tye  vp  the  Libertine  in  a  field  of  Feafts,  30 

29.  IViichcraft'^  wUkcraft  F^.  29.  both,'\   Ff,  Rowc,   Pope.      da/A. 

BfMay,]Bfa9ay.- F^F^,Kowt,-\-.        Johns.    datA.Coll.    ^£rf>i  /  Theob.  ct  cet. 


[Keigfatlqr's  /amm*d  can  be  upheld  only  at  the  expense  of  physiology ;  there  are,  I 
believe,  no  pigmentary  cells  in  the  lips  which  can  be  affected  by  the  sun's  rays.  I 
cannot  accept  Dyce's  asseition  that  *  wand '  is  '  evidently  the  past  participle  of  the 
verb  wmu*  I  see  no  reason  why  it  should  not  be  the  same  *wand*  which  the 
Quartos  give  us  in  Hamlet^  *  all  his  visage  wand'  (II,  ii,  527)  where  almost  every 
modem  editor  to  the  complete  satisfaction  of  himself  and  of  his  readers  prints  wann'd 
that  is,  muuU  wan.  And,  moreover,  this  interpreUtion  is  not  lacking  in  fitness. 
Cleopatra's  lips,  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight,  as  has  been  suggested,  could  hardly  be  as 
<ripe  in  show'  as  the  lips  of  Helena,  'those  kissing  cherries'  as  Demetrius  calls 
them;  and  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  it  is  not  an  admirer  of  Cleopatra  that  terms 
her  lips  wan.  To  Anthony,  one  kiss  from  them,  wan'd  or  not,  '  repaid  all  that  he 
had  lost'— Ed.] 

jo.  Tye  vp  the  Libertine  in  m  field  of  Feasts]  Collier  (ed.  ii) :  The  MS 
thus  alters  this  line :— '  Lay  up  the  libertine  in  a  flood  of  feasts ; '  but  we  do  not  feel 
warranted  in  deserting  the  old  editions,  although  it  is  true  that  in  Othello^  I,  i,  we  have 
seen  *  Laying '  misprinted  Jyingy  as  here  Lay  may  have  been  misprinted  '  Tie.'  As 
to  *  field  of  feasts '  we  hardly  know  what  is  to  be  understood  by  the  expression,  but 
*  flood  qIL  feasts '  seems  almost  equally  objectionable,  though  intelligible  ;  however, 
if  any  part  of  this  play,  as  published,  were  derived  from  shorthand  notes, '  field '  and 
flood  would  be  ^>elt  with  the  same  letters,  and  hence  possibly  the  confusion. 
W.  W[iLLiAiis]  (Parthenon f  17  May,  1862)  :  Assuredly,  Shakespeare  has  no  meta- 
phor similar  [to  *  field  of  feasts ']  throughout  his  works.  '  Field '  is  defined  by  John- 
son as  being  strictly  *  ground  not  inclosed,  the  open  country  ; '  and  to  <  tie/  he  tells 
OS,  is  '  to  constrain  or  confine,  up  being  little  more  than  an  emphatical  addition.' 
Pompey,  wishing  to  fasten  Antony  to  a  particular  spot,  would  scarcely  desire  the 
security  of  an  open  ^pace.  But  there  is  a  word,  for  which,  by  a  very  probable  mis- 
reading, *  field '  may  have  been  substituted.  Fold^  says  Johnson,  is  an  *  enclosure  of 
any  kind,'  and  a  fold  would  therefore  exactly  suit  Pompey *s  purpose.  The  most 
rigid  foliantist  cannot  object  to  weigh  for  a  moment  whether  the  true  meaning  may 
not  be, — <  Tie  up  the  libertine  in  a  fold  of  feasts.'  We  have  then  a  figure  of  which 
Shakespeare  is  particularly  fond.  ...  A  reference  to  a  Concordance  will  save  me  any 
parade  of  confirmatory  passages.  [The  phrase  is  certainly  obscure,  and  yet  I  venture 
to  think  that  the  Folio  needs  no  alteration.  Pompey' s  train  of  thought  is,  let  me 
imagine,  somewhat  as  follows :  At  all  hazards,  Anthony  must  be  kept  in  Egypt,  a 
prisoner  to  his  passions  ;  within  this  boundary  the  libertine  roust  be  tied  up.  But 
the  very  idea  of  a  libertine  involves  a  certain  freedom  of  motion  ;  a  libertine  cannot 
be  tied  up  to  a  single  feast,  else  he  would  cease  to  be  a  libertine  in  feasts ;  there  must 
be  many  feasts ;  in  using  the  word  *  libertine '  there  may  have  then  crept  into  Shake- 
speare's  mind  that  charming  simile  which  elsewhere  he  twice  uses,  whereby  the  air 
becomes  a  '  chartered  libertine,'  blowing  wheresoever  it  pleases,  over  hill  and  dale, 
and  a  single  feast  hereby  expands,  in  imagination,  into  a  whole  field  of  feasts. 
Some  limitations  there  must  be ;  what  better  than  a  field  of  vague  extent,  wherein 
a  libertine  could  be  confined  and  indulge  in   endless  feasting,  day  and  night 


86  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  L 

Keepe  his  Braine  fuming.     Epicurean  Cookes^  31 

Sharpen  with  cloyleffe  fawce  his  Appetite, 

That  fleepe  and  feeding  may  prorogue  his  Honour, 

Euen  till  a  Lethied  dulneffe 

Enter  Varrius.  35 

How  now  Varrius  ? 

Var.    This  is  moft  certaine,  that  I  fhall  deliuer : 
Marke  Anthony  is  euery  houre  in  Rome 
Expe£led.     Since  he  went  from  Egypt,  'tis  39 

33.  Honour]  hour  Mai.  conj.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Sing.  Wh.     duhu/s— 

34.  tiU]  *tUi  Rowe.  + .     to  Han.  F^F^,  Rowe  ct  cct 

Lethied]  Leth^d  Pope  ct  seq.  35.  Enter...]  After  line  y^^  Cap.  After 

dulneffe ]  F,.   dulness  !  Han.         Une  36,  Var.  '78. 

Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.    dulness,  Mai.  Steev. 


Thus,  for  the  preservation  of  the  text  of  the  Folio,  feci  quod  potui^  faciant  meUora 
poientei, — Ed.] 

30.  Libertine]  There  is  one  Article  in  Walker's  Versification  (XL,  p.  201 )  which, 
for  the  sake  of  that  fine  scholar's  reputation,  even  his  admirers  would,  I  think,  like  to 
see  expunged.  Its  title  is :  *  The  t  in  -ity  is  almost  uniformly  dropt  in  pronunciation,' 
and,  in  proof,  he  quotes  upwards  of  twenty  instances  where  he  assumes  that  this 
barbarous  pronunciation  must  be  adopted.  Apparently,  warming  with  his  subject,  he 
goes  from  bad  to  worse  until,  toward  the  close,  he  recommends  such  words  as  hostiPiy, 
virgin* ty^  fmrUy  and  '  suspects  that  the  Elizabethan  poets  extended  this  rule  to  aU 
substantives  ending  in  -ty^  as  honesty^  liberty^  p<werty^  etc.  Hence  it  is  that  majesty 
is  almost  uniformly  a  disyllable  in  Shakespeare.*  His  last  quotation  is  this  present 
line,  wherein  he  asserts  that  '  libertine '  is  '  used  in  the  same  way,*  and,  therefore, 
to  be  pronounced  lib"*  tine, — Ed. 

31.  Epicurean]  In  Greek  names,  Shakespeare  usually  followed,  not  the  Latin,  but 
the  Greek  accent,  which  was  the  method  of  Reuchlin,  the  accepted  authority  of  his 
day ;  thus,  'Ewucoipeioc.  Thus,  too,  Bapappac  in  The  Mer.  of  Ven.  Walker  overlooked 
this  fact,  which  would  have  spared  him  trouble  in  compiling  his  Article  XLII,  Vers. 
p.  211.     'Euphrates'  in  I,  ii,  113,  is  an  exception. — Ed. 

33.  feeding  may  prorogue  his  Honour]  Steevens  :  This  undoubtedly  means 

*  to  delay  his  sense  of  honour  from  exerting  itself  till  he  become  habitually  sluggish.' 
Dbighton  :  To  *  prorogue,*  from  Lat.  pro^  publicly,  and  rogare^  to  ask  (the  tech- 
nical term  for  proposing  a  measure  to  a  legislative  body),  properly  means  to  propose 
a  further  extension  of  office,  thence  to  carry  forward  from  one  meeting  to  another,  and 
so  to  defer.  Staunton  :  Shakespeare  certainly  uses  *  prorogue '  here,  as  he  employs 
it  in  Pericles^  V,  i,  24,  *  nor  taken  sustenance  But  to  prorogue  his  grief,' — ^in  the  sense 
of  deaden  or  benumb. 

34.  Lethied  dulnesse]  The  Cam.  Edd.  record  an  Anonymous  conjecture  of 

*  Lethe  dulness,'  which  seems  probable.  It  must  have  been  difficult  for  the  ear  of 
the  compositor  to  escape  from  hearing  the  d  of  *  dulness  *  transferred  to  Lethe. 
—Ed. 

35.  Varrius]  See  Dram.  Pers, 


f 


iUTU.  sc.  L]        AXTHOXY  AXD  CLEOPA TRA  87 

A  fpace  for  faither  Trasak.  40 

Pamu     I  ooold  huK  ghicn  kfic  matter 
Abettereare.    JUhMj:,  I  Ad  not  tbinke 
This  amorous  Sorfbczcr  voold  haoe  doon'd  his  Hdme 
For  fuch  a  petty  Wane  :  His  Sookfierihip 

Is  twice  the  odier  twaioe  :  Bat  let  vs  leare  45 

The  higher  om-  Opanoo,  that  oar  ftirrii^ 
Can  firom  the  lap  of  ¥jgypts  Widdow,  plucke 
The  neere  Luft-wcaiied  Amikmy. 

Mem.     I  cannot  hope,  49 


4a  /pa£i\  rma  Goaid.  45.  immme\  tmmm^s  Words. 

/artJk^^   fm^Oer    Stccr.    Vaz.  47-  '^'S^Ubw,]  Widdmm  F,F^. 

farthest  QxM^A,  4^  mem  Lmft-wemried^    F, 

41.  ieje]  Uawe^tyCadA.  hai-wemried T^  u.  Cap.  Var.  *78,  'S5, 

42.  MiY]MrF,?.  MaL    CoU.    Wh.      m^ir•imsi' 
45.  «flMrMKf]  mmerma  IVipc;^.  TheobL  ct  ceL 


5«jr;^&sarr]  Sv/Ufer  F^ 


39,  40.  *tis  A  space  for  gaitbef  Tranailr]  Stksvkns  :  Thai  is,  since  be  quitted 
Egypt,  a  ypaat  of  time  has  eiapied  in  wbidi  a  longer  journey  might  hare  been  per- 
formed than  from  Egypt  to  Rooie.  Aibott  ($  405)  suggests  that  there  is  merdy  a 
not  unusual  ellqxas  after '  is; '  in  the  present  case  n^juiemi  is  probably  to  be  supplied 
after  'space.' 

42.  lienas]  Stceykks:  I  cannot  help  supposing,  00  account  of  the  present 
irregularity  of  metre,  that  the  name  '  Menas '  is  an  intcqx>lation,  and  that  the  passage 
originally  stood  : — '  I  could  hare  given  Less  matter  better  ear. — I  did  not  think — .* 

47*  ^STP^  Widdow]  Stkkveks:  Julius  Caesar  had  married  her  to  young 
Ptolemy,  who  was  afterwards  drowned. 

48.  The  neere  Lost-wearied  Anthony]  Rowk  and  Popk  haying  followed  the 
Third  and  Fourth  FoKas^  Theobald  (Sh,  Restored^  p.  1S4)  proved  that  the  Fir^ 
Folio  is  right  by  printing  <  neer  lust- wearied,'  and  restored  sense  to  the  passage, 
which  means,  he  says,  '  if  Antony,  though  nerer  tired  of  luxury,  yet  moved  from 
that  charm  upon  Pompey's  stirring,  it  was  reason  for  Poippey  to  pride  himself  upon 
being  of  such  consequence.* 

49.  I  cannot  hope,  etc]  Stekvens  :  Mr  Tyrwhitt  observes,  that  to  « hope.'  on 
this  occasion,  means  to  expect.  So,  in  The  Reu^s  Taie^  v.  4027  :  « Our  mancyple,  as 
I  hope^  he  wil  be  deed.' — Boswell  :  Yet  from  the  following  passage  in  Puttenham,  it 
would  seem  to  have  been  considered  as  a  blundering  expression  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Elizabeth :  •  Such  manner  of  vncouth  speech  did  the  Tanner  of  Tamworth  vse  to 
king  Edward  the  fourth,  which  Tanner  hauing  a  great  while  mistaken  him,  and  vsed 
▼ery  brood  talke  with  him,  at  length  perceiuing  by  his  traine  that  it  was  the  king, 
was  afraide  he  should  be  punished  for  it,  said  thus  with  a  certaine  rude  repentance  : 
*<  I  hope  I  shall  be  hanged  to-morrow ! "  For  [I  feare  me]  I  shall  be  hanged, 
whereat  the  king  laughed  a  good,  not  only  to  see  the  Tanners  vaine  feare,  but  also  to 
hcare  his  ill  shapen  terme.'[ — Arber's  Reprint^  p.  263.] — Daniel  (p.  80) :  It  was  not 


88  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  ii,  sc  i. 

Cafar  and  Anthony  ftiall  well  greet  together ;  50 

His  Wife  that's  dead^  did  trefpafles  to  Cafary 
His  Brother  wanM  vpon  him,  although  I  thinke 
Not  mouM  by  Anthony. 

Pont.     I  know  not  MenaSj 
How  leffer  Enmities  may  g^ue  way  to  greater,  55 

Were't  not  that  we  (land  vp  againft  them  all : 
Twer  pregnant  they  fhould  fquare  between  themfelues,  57 

51.  Mtf/'j]  who's  Pope,  +  ,  Var.  '73.  F^.    greater.  „mU^  Rowe  ct  scq. 

52.  waH'(^]warr'{t  Ffetseq.  57.  *  Twer'\  F,. 

55»  5^-  g^^<^^^  ...ail .'"l greater.  ...all:  themfelues,']  themselves;  Rowe. 


Menas'  cue  to  hope  that  they  would  ;  his  hope,  if  he  was  true  to  Fbmpey,  must  have 
been  the  other  way ;  read,  therefore, — I  cannot  held. 

50.  Caesar  and  Anthony  shall  well  g^reet  tog^ether]  If  we  accept '  greet '  in  its 
prominent  sense  of  to  salute,  it  becomes  difficult  to  comprehend  how  two  men  can 
'  greet  together,'  It  would  be  still  more  difficult,  I  think,  to  find,  throughout  English 
literature,  a  second  example  of  the  phrase.  The  N.  E,  D.  knows  none  such, — as  far 
as  I  can  discover.  May  it  not  be,  however,  that  *  greet '  is  an  error  of  the  compositor, 
who,  deceived  either  by  his  mental  ear  or  the  voice  of  his  reader,  has  added  to  the 
verb  gree  the  /  of  the  next  word,  <  together  *  ?  and  that  the  true  reading  is  *  Caesar  and 
Anthony  shall  well  gree  together  *  ? — Schmidt  {^Lex. )  gives  many  instances^  and  the 
N.  E.  D.  still  more,  of  the  use  of  gree  in  the  sense  of  to  agree,  to  be  in  accord^  etc 
The  past  participle,  '  greed  *  occurs  in  II,  vi,  47,  *  this  greed  vpon.  To  part  with 
vnhackt  edges,'  etc. — Ed. 

52.  wan'd  vpon  him]  See  *  He  stayes  vpon  your  will,*  I,  ii,  131. 

54.  I  know  not  Menas,  etc.]  Thiselton  (p.  11):  Modem  editors  have  taken 
great  liberties  with  the  Folio  punctuation  of  this  speech,  in  total  disregard  of  the 
point  on  which  Pompey  is  enlarging,  viz.,  that  Anthony's  accession  to  the  side  of 
Caesar  and  Lepidus  will,  if  it  prove  to  be  a  fact,  indicate  the  strength  of  Pompey* s 
menace.  As  usually  punctuated  the  speech  is  self-contradictory,  for  Pompey  is  thereby 
made  to  say  first  that  he  knows  not  how  it  is,  then  to  explain  how  it  is,  and  finally  to 
reassert  that  he  knows  not  how  it  is.  On  the  other  hand,  according  to  the  Folio 
punctuation,  Pompey  states  the  only  possible  ground  that  occurs  to  him  for  Anthony's 
reported  movements;  he  would  rather  expect  Anthony  to  remain  on  quarrelsome 
terms  with  his  colleagues  of  the  Triumvirate  ;  he  therefore  awaiu  confirmation  of  the 
report,  holding  it,  if  true,  as  a  proof  of  his  power  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  the 
necessity  of  using  that  power  to  the  uttermost  against  such  a  combination. 

57.  pregnant]  Narks  {^Gloss.  s.  v.)  discusses  the  various  meanings  of  this  word, 
and,  under  the  fourth  head,  says  that  it  signifies  *  full  of  force  or  conviction,  or  full 
of  proof  in  itself.'  This  definition,  Dyce  {Gloss.)  quotes  as  the  interpretation  of  the 
word  in  the  present  passage.  Nares,  in  conclusion,  says  that  *  this  word  was  used 
with  great  laxity,  and  sometimes  abused,  as  fashionable  terms  are ;  but  may  be  gener- 
ally referred  to  the  ruling  sense  of  being  full,  or  productive  of  something.' 

57.  they  should  square]  That  is,  quarrel.  Cotgrave  has :  *  Se  quarrer.  To 
strout,  or  square  it,  looke  big  on't,  carrie  his  armes  a  kemboll  braggadochio-like.' 


ACT  II,  sc,  U.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TEA  89 

For  they  haue  entertained  caufe  enough  58 

To  draw  their  fwords  :  but  how  the  feare  of  vs 

May  Ciment  their  diuifions,  and  binde  vp  60 

The  petty  difference,  we  yet  not  know : 

Bee't  as  our  Gods  will  haue't ;  it  onely  (lands 

Our  liues  vpon,to  vfe  our  ftrongeft  hands 

Come  Menas.  Exeunt.  64 

[Scene  //.] 

Enter  Enobarbus  and  Lepidus. 

Lep.     Good  Enobarbus  J  'tis  a  worthy  deed, 
And  (hall  become  you  well,  to  intreat  your  Captaine 
To  foft  and  gentle  fpeech. 

Enob.     I  (hall  intreat  him  5 

To  anfwer  like  himfelfe  :  if  Ccefar  moue  him, 
Let  Anthony  looke  ouer  Ccefars  head, 
And  fpeake  as  lowd  as  Mars.    By  lupiter. 
Were  I  the  wearer  of  Anthonic^s  Beard,  9 

60.   Cim£nt'\  Cement  Y^^,  House.  Cap.  Gaudy,  superfluously  gilded. 

62.  Be^t ...  haue'i'^     Ff,     Rowc,+,  Kemble. 

Dyce,  Glo.  Sta.    Be^t,..have  it\9X,^T^,  ^.  to in/rea/1  t*infrea/ Tope, -\-,I>yce 

Coll.  i.   Be  it,.,havit  Sing.  Coll.  ii,  Wh.  ii,  iii. 

Ktly.     Be  it. ..have  it  Cap.  et  cet  6.  moue'\  maz/d  Ran. 

onely]  only  F^.  9.  Anthonio's]  Ff.    Antonio's  Rowe, 

[Scene  II.   Rowe  et  seq.  +,  Cap.  Ktly.     Antonius'  Var. '73  ct 

[Rome.  Rowe.    A  Room  in  Lepidus'  cet. 

See,  if  need  be,  '  But  they  do  square,  that  all  their  Elues  for  feare,'  etc. — Mid  N, 
Dream,  II,  i,  29,  of  this  edition. 

62,  63.  it  onely  stands  Our  liues  vpon]  Staunton  :  Our  existence  solely 
depends,  etc.,  or  it  is  incumbent  on  us  for  our  lives'  sake,  etc.  [For  other  examples 
of  this  idiom,  see  Abbott,  §  204.] 

64.  Exeunt]  Vischer  (p.  91)  :  This  scene  could  have  been  dispensed  with.  [It 
is  omitted  in  the  version  which  Capell  made  for  Garrick. — Ed.] 

Scene  II.]  Johnson  :  I  think  the  First  Act  may  be  commodiously  continued  to 
this  place,  and  the  Second  Act  opened  with  the  interview  of  the  chief  persons,  and  a 
change  of  the  state  of  action.  Yet  it  must  be  confessed,  that  it  is  of  small  importance, 
where  these  unconnected  and  desultory  scenes  are  interrupted. 

9.  Were  I  the  wearer,  etc.]  Capell  (i,  32)  :  'Alluding,*  says  [Warburton], 
'to  the  phrase — I  will  beard  him.'  But  the  speaker  had  no  such  thing  in  his  head  ; 
hot  either  meant  as  he  spake,  or — that  he  would  put  on  his  gruffest  look.  There  is 
something  uncommonly  noble  in  the  management  of  this  interview,  and  the  dignity 
of  these  great  personages  is  wonderfully  sustain'd ;  their  entry  without  accosting  each 
other,  the  conversation  apart  that  each  has  with  his  friends,  are  circumstances  finely 


90 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  II,  sc.  iL 


I  would  not  fhaue't  to  day. 

Lep.    ^Tis  not  a  time  for  priuate  flomacking. 

Eno.     Euery  time  ferues  for  the  matter  that  is  then 
borne  in't. 

Lep.     But  fmall  to  greater  matters  muft  giue  way. 

Eno,     Not  if  the  fmall  come  firft. 

Lep.     Your  fpeech  is  pafTion  :  but  pray  you  ftirre 
No  Embers  vp.   Heere  comes  the  Noble  Anthony. 

Enter  Anthony  and  Venliditis, 

Eno.    And  yonder  Ccefar. 

Enter  Ca/ary  Mecenas^  and  Agrippa. 

Ant.     If  we  compofe  well  heere,  to  Parthia : 
Hearke  Ventidius. 


lO 


15 


20 


22 


10.  Jhau^t'\  shave  Var.  '03,  13. 

11.  '7ij.../iOT^]  Separate  line,  Han. 
Cap.  Steev.  et  seq. 

12.  Euery  time\  Separate  line,  Pope 
et  seq. 

13.  bom€\  bom  FjF^. 

fV/]  init\uxT.  Mai.  Steev.  Varr. 
Knt. 

16, 17.  Kwr... Anthony.]  Three  lines, 
ending  pajfions;  ...  comes  ...  Anthony, 
Pope  et  seq. 


20.  Mecenas]  Ff.  Macenas  Glo.  Cam. 
Rife,  (throughout.)  Mecanas  Rowe  et 
cet. 

21.  Parthia .]  Parthia,  F^F^,  Johns. 
Parthia —  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Han. 
Warb.     Parthia  !  Sta. 

22.  Hearhe\  F,.  Harh  F^F^,  Rowe, 
Pope,  Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Harh  thee 
Han.  Knt,  Dyce  i,  Glo.  Sta.  Harh  ye 
'D'^cit  ii,  iii.     Harh  you  Cap.  et  cet. 


imagin'd. — Johnson:  I  believe  he  means,  'I  would  meet  him  undressed,  without 
show  of  respect' 

II.  priuate  stomacldng]  Anger,  resentment.     See  III,  iv,  14. 

16,  17.  pray  you  atirre  No  Embers  vp]  Deighton  :  Do  not  rake  up  any  old 
quarrels. 

2a  Enter  Caesar,  etc.]  Knight  {Supp,  Notice,  p.  356)  :  The  interview  between 
Caesar  and  Antony  is  most  masterly.  The  constrained  courtesy  on  each  side — the 
coldness  of  Caesar — the  frank  apologies  of  Antony — the  suggestion  of  Agrippa,  so 
opportune,  and  yet  apparently  so  unpremeditated — ^the  ready  assent  of  Antony — all 
this — matter  for  rhetorical  flourishes  of  at  least  five  hundred  lines  in  the  hands  of  an 
ordinary  dramatist — may  be  read  without  a  start  or  an  elevation  of  the  voice.  It  is 
solid  business  throughout.  Antony  we  nught  think  was  a  changed  man.  Enobarbus, 
who  knows  him,  is  of  a  different  opinion. — Lloyd  (p.  338)  :  The  fated  superiority 
of  the  cool  and  steadfast  gamester  for  power,  over  the  ardent  and  dissipated,  is  set 
forth  with  admirable  efi*ect  in  the  long  scene  with  the  Triumvirs,  which  never  pauses, 
and  flags  not  in  a  line,  though  the  subject  matter  is  no  whit  more  vivacious  in  itsdf 
than  the  contents  of  interchanging  protocols. 

ai.  If  we  compose  well]  Steevens  :  That  is,  if  we  come  to  a  lucky  composiUon, 
agreement     So  afterwards  is  <  composition  *  used.     See  II,  vi,  74. 

22.  Hearke]  Dyck  (ed.  ii)  has,  I  think,  rightly  interpreted  this  as  *  Heark  ye,' — 
potsiUy,  ndsheard  by  the  compositor. — Ed. 


ACT  II,  sc.  ii.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA 


91 


Ca/ar.     I  do  not  know  Mecenas^  aske  Agrippa. 

Lep.     Noble  Friends : 
That  which  combinM  vs  was  mod  great,  and  let  not 
A  leaner  a6tion  rend  vs.     What's  amifle, 
May  it  be  gently  heard.     When  we  debate 
Our  triuiall  difference  loud,  we  do  commit 
Murther  in  healing  wounds.  Then  Noble  Partners, 
The  rather  for  I  eameftly  befeech, 
Touch  you  the  fowreft  points  with  fweeteft  tearmes. 
Nor  curftneffe  grow  to'th'matter. 

Ant,     'Tis  fpoken  well : 
Were  we  before  our  Armies,  and  to  fight, 
I  fhould  do  thus .  Flouri/h. 

Caf.     Welcome  to  Rome. 

AnL     Thanke  you. 

Caj.     Sit. 

Anty     Sit  fir. 


23 


25 


30 


35 


39 


23.  I.., knew]  Separate  line.  Cap.  et 
seq.  (sabs.) 

know  Mecenas,]  Ff.  know;  Afe- 
aenaSf  Rowe,  + .  Jhtow,  Mecantu;  Han. 
etcet 

26.  Uafur\  meaner  Quincy  MS.  lesser 
Gould. 

27.  heard'\  mc^ d  ox  ur^ d  Govld, 

29.  Murther']  Murder  Johns. 

30.  rather]  rather.  Pope. 

31.  you]  thou  Han.  ii. 


FF 


32.  to'th']  F,.    toth* 

33.  fpoken  ivell]  well  spoken  Words. 

34.  Annies]  Armes  F,. 

35.  Flourilh.]  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Glo.  Om. 
Han.  et  cet 

36-40.  Welcome,,, Nay]  As  one  line, 
Steev.  Varr.  Sing.  Welcome,  „Sit  fir. 
As  one  line,  Ktly. 

37.    Thanke]  I  thank  YJi!L^, 

39.  Sit  fir.]  Sitf  sir!  Ran.  Steev.  Var. 
Mai.  Var. 


32.  Nor  curstnesse  grow  to'th'matter]  Johnson  :  Let  not  ill-humour  be  added 
to  the  real  subject  of  our  difference. 

35.  I  should  do  thus]  Capell  (i,  32) :  Meaning, — as  Lepidus  had  entreated; 
talk  the  difference  over  gently,  and  not  make  it  greater  by  reproaches  and  harsh 
luiguage ;  for  that  is  the  import  of  the  words  which  that  entreaty  is  couch' d  in. — 
[Collier's  MS  interpreted  these  words  differently ;  he  inserted  a  stage-direction, 
*  They  shake  hands ^^  which  Collier  adopted  in  his  Second  and  T^ird  Editions,  fol- 
lowed by  Singer  and,  in  effect,  Keightley.  The  'Flourish'  manifestly  indicates 
tome  action ;  the  trumpets  would  hardly  blare  at  the  mere  expression  of  a  sentiment. 
—Ed.] 

38,  39.  Cses.  Sit.  Ant ,  Sit  sir.]  Stbevens  :  Antony  appears  to  be  jealous  of 
a  circumstance  which  seemed  to  indicate  a  consciousness  of  superiority  in  his  too 
successful  partner  in  power ;  and  accordingly  resents  the  invitation  of  Caesar  to  be 
seated :  Caesar  answers,  *  Nay,  then ; '  t.  e.  if  you  are  so  ready  to  resent  what  I  meant 
as  an  act  of  civility,  there  can  be  no  reason  to  suppose  you  have  temper  enough  for 
the  business  on  which  at  present  we  are  met    The  former  editors  leave  a  full  point 


92  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  n,  sc.  n. 

Caf.     Nay  then.  40 

Ant.     I  leame^  you  take  things  ill^  which  are  not  fo : 
Or  being,  conceme  you  not. 

C(Bf,     I  mud  be  laught  at,  if  or  for  nothing,  or  a  little,  I 
Should  (ay  my  felfe  offended,  and  with  you 
Chiefely  i'th'world.     More  laught  at,  that  I  fhould  45 

Once  name  you  derogately  :  when  to  found  your  name 
It  not  concerned  me. 

Ant.     My  being  in  Egypt  Ci?/^r,what  was't  to  you  ? 

C(Bf.     No  more  then  my  reciding  heere  at  Rome 
Might  be  to  you  in  Egypt  :  yet  if  you  there  50 

Did  prafbfe  on  my  State,your  being  in  Egypt 

40.  then,'\    Fff  Rowe,    Pope,   Dyce,  46.    Once  ^^/ouHd"]    Separate    line, 
Glo.  Cam.  Sta.     (Aen —  Theob.  et  cct.  Pope,  + . 

41.  no/"]  norY^,  48.  m^...Caefar]  Separate  line.  Cap. 

42.  you]  yon  F,.  et  seq. 

43.  /...^7/]  Separate  line, Rowe  et  seq.  49.  redding]  refidingYl, 
little,  I]  little,  Ff.  50.  yet]  Om.  Pope,  Han. 

at  the  end  of  this,  as  well  as  the  preceding  speech. — ^Johnson  :  The  following  cir- 
cumstance may  serve  to  strengthen  Mr  Steevens*8  opinion:  When  the  fictitioiis 
Sebastian  made  his  appearance  in  Europe,  he  came  to  a  conference  with  the  Cond6 
de  Lemos  ;  to  whom,  after  the  first  exchange  of  civilities,  he  said,  '  Cond6  de  Lemos, 
be  covered.'  And  being  asked,  by  that  nobleman,  by  what  pretences  he  laid  claim 
to  the  superiority  expressed  by  such  permission,  he  replied,  <  I  do  it  by  right  of  my 
birth  ;  I  am  Sebastian.' — Malone  :  I  believe,  the  author  meant  no  more  than  that 
Caesar  should  desire  Antony  to  be  seated :  '  Sit'  To  this  Antony  replies.  Be  yon, 
sir,  seated  first :  <  Sit,  sir.'  <  Nay,  then,'  rejoins  Csesar,  if  yon  stand  on  ceremony,  to 
put  an  end  to  farther  talk  on  a  matter  of  so  little  moment,  I  will  take  my  seat  How- 
ever, I  have  too  much  respect  for  the  two  preceding  editors,  to  set  my  judgment  above 
their  concurring  opinions,  and  therefore  have  left  the  note  of  admiration  placed  by 
Mr  Steevens  at  the  end  of  Antony's  speech,  undisturbed. — Knight  :  We  agree  with 
Malone  that  they  each  desire  the  other  to  be  seated ;  and  that  Caesar  puts  an  end  to 
the  bandying  of  compliments  by  taking  his  seat — [I  think  there  can  be  little  doobl 
that  Malone  is  right] 

42.  Or  being]  Abbott  (§  404)  :  <  Being'  is  often  used  for  it  being,  or  being  so, 
very  much  like  Ifv  and  its  compounds  in  Greek. — [See  also  III,  vi,  32,  which  Abbott 
gives  as  a  parallel  example,  but  is  capable  of  a  different  explanation.] 

46.  derogately]  Walker  (  Vers.  274)  gives  this  word  in  the  present  passage  as 
an  example  in  his  'Article  Iv:'  <We  sometimes  find  two  unaccented  syllables 
inserted  between  what  are  ordinarily  the  fourth  and  fifth,  or  sixth  and  seventh,  the 
whole  form  being  included  in  one  word.' 

51.  Did  practise  on  my  State]  Steevens:  To  'practise'  means  to  employ 
unwarrantable  arts  or  stratagems.  So,  in  the  Countess  of  Pembroke's  Anionie, 
*  nothing  killes  me  so.  As  that  I  so  my  Cleopatra  see  Practize  with  Caesar.'  [Act  III. 
For  <  practifle '  in  this  sense,  see  Shakespeue passim.] 


ACT  u,  sc.  ii.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA  93 

Alight  be  my  queftion.  52 

Ant.     How  intend  you,  pra6HsM  ? 

Ca/.     You  may  be  pleasM  to  catch  at  mine  intent, 
3y  what  did  heere  befall  me.     Your  Wife  and  Brother  5  5 

Made  warres  vpon  me,  and  their  conteftation 
Was  Theame  for  you,  you  were  the  word  of  warre.  57 

$y,  pra^iid'\    practise     Anon.    ap.  ^T^  WcuTheanuforyou^ruastheatfCd 

Cun.  for  you^  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Cap.    Was 

55-  w^.]  Om.   Popc,  +  .  theme  for  them^  Ktly.      Was  knomon  for 

56,  57.  their., .you^  for  contestation        yours,  Orson.     Was  you  for  theme  JAW- 

Their  theme  was  you,  M.  Mason,  Ran.  ford  ap.  Cam. 

Theame'^  Theme  Fj.     Theam  F^. 

56,  57.  their  contestation  Was  Theame  for  you,  you  were  the  word  of 
warre]  Warburton  :  The  only  meaning  of  this  can  be,  that  the  war,  which  Antony's 
wife  and  brother  made  npon  Caesar,  was  theme  for  Antony  too  to  make  war ;  or  was  the 
occasion  why  he  did  make  war.  But  this  is  directly  contrary  to  the  context,  which 
shows,  Antony  did  neither  encourage  them  to  it,  nor  second  them  in  it.  We  cannot 
doubt  then,  but  the  poet  wrote:  < — and  their  contestation  Was  them*d  for  you,' 
f.  e.  The  pretence  of  the  war  was  on  your  account,  they  took  up  arms  in  your  name, 
and  you  were  made  the  theme  and  subject  of  their  insurrection. — Johnson  :  I  am 
neither  satisfied  with  the  reading  nor  the  emendation:  them^d  is,  I  think,  a  word 
ooautborised,  and  very  harsh.  Perhaps  we  may  read:  ' — their  contestation  Had 
theme  from  you,'  The  dispute  derived  its  subject  from  you.  It  may  be  corrected 
by  mere  transposition :  '  — their  contestation  You  were  theme  for,  you  were  the 
word — .' — Capell  (i,  32) :  Though  there  can  be  no  doubt  made  that  [Warburton' s] 
emendation  is  just  [Capell  adopted  it.],  and  his  interpretation  also ;  yet  is  grammar 
made  dreadfully  free  with,  and  the  analogy  of  language :  for,  according  to  the  latter, 
thewid  can  have  no  other  sense  but — proposed  as  a  theme,  given  out  as  such  ;  and 
must,  according  to  grammar,  be  govern' d  of  '  contestation  ; '  but  this  sense  and  con- 
struction bring  matters  back  nearly  to  the  point  they  were  in  under  the  old  reading 
— '  theame : '  the  fault  is  in  the  Poet  himself,  whose  licence  of  expression  is  sometimes 
excessive. — Steevens  :  <  Was  theme  for  you,'  I  believe,  means  only,  *  was  proposed  as 
an  example  for  you  to  follow  on  a  yet  more  extensive  plan  ; '  as  themes  are  given  for  a 
writer  to  dilate  upon.  Shakspeare,  however,  may  prove  the  best  commentator  on  him- 
self! Thus,  in  Cariolanus,  I»  >  •  *  — throw  forth  greater  themes  For  insurrection's  argu- 
ing.' Sidnius  calls  Coriolanus, '  — the  theme  of  our  assembly.' — M alone  :  That  is, 
*  their  contestation  derived  its  theme  or  subject  from  you  ;  you  were  their  word  of  war ; ' 
this  aflfords  a  clear  and  consistent  sense.  To  obtain  the  sense  desired  from  War- 
harton's  emendation,  we  should  read — *  Was  them'd  from  you — .'  So,  in  Tro.  and 
Cress. :  <  She  is  a  theme  of  honour  and  renown,  A  spur  to  valiant  and  magnanimous 
deeds.'  That  he  must  have  written  from,  appears  by  Antony's  answer :  *  You  do 
mistake  your  business  ;  my  brother  never  Did  urge  me  in  his  act.'  1.  e.  *■  never  made 
me  the  theme  for  insurrection's  arguing.' — M.  Mason  :  I  should  suppose  that  some 
of  the  words  have  been  misplaced,  and  that  it  ought  to  stand  thus  :  <  — and  for  con- 
testation Their  theme  was  you;  you  were  the  word  of  war.' — Collier  (ed.  ii)  : 
Their  contestation  was  not  theme  for  Antony,  but  Antony  was  their  theme  for  con- 


94  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  ii.  sc.  U. 

Ant.  You  do  miftake  your  bufines,  my  Brother  neuer  58 

Did  vrge  me  in  his  A£l  :  I  did  inquire  it. 

And  haue  my  Learning  from  fome  true  reports  60 

That  drew  their  fwords  with  you,  did  he  not  rather 
Difcredit  my  authority  with  yours, 
And  make  the  warres  alike  againft  my  ilomacke,  63 

5S.  y<mr\  the  Han.     thiir  Anon.  ap.  59.  inquire'\  require  Theob.  ii»  Waib. 

Cam.  enquire  Var.  '78. 

59.  his]  this  Han.  60.  reports]  reporters  Pope,  Han. 

61.  yoUf]  you,  F^F^  et  seq. 

— • — — ^ ^ 

testation.  *  Was '  and  *  for '  accidentally  changed  places ;  therefore  we  read,  *  and 
their  contestation  For  theme  was  you.'  This  is  all  that  is  necessary,  and  it  is 
strange  that  the  commentators,  in  their  <  contestation/  shoald  not  hare  discovered 
what  was  required. — [Thus  it  stood  in  Collier*s  Second  Edition,  but  in  his  Third 
Edition^  Collier  himself  failed  to  '  discover  what  was  required '  and  his  text  follows 
the  Folio,  'Was  theme  for  you,'  without  comment.  ]~-Staunton:  The  meaning  is 
apparent,  though  the  construction  is  obscure  and  perhaps  corrupt.  We  ought  possibly 
to  read, — *//ad  you  for  theme,'  etc. — Schmidt  {Lex.)  defines  'theme'  in  the  pres- 
ent passage  as  '  a  matter,  an  enterprise  undertaken  in  your  interest.' — Deighton  : 
(Conj'ect.  Headings^  p.  41)  :  Schmidt's  explanation  would  be  excellent,  if  only  the 
words  would  bear  that  sense.  Though  'theme'  is  spelt  in  the  Folios  <  theame'  or 
'theam'  [or  *  theme,'  F,],  I  am  satisfied  that  it  is  nothing  else  than  then  (thenne), 
perhaps  sophisticated  by  a  copybt  who  thought  <  the  word  of  war '  was  explanatoiy 
of  it  [There  is,  possibly,  one  interpretation  which  may  justify  the  text  as  it  stands. 
Csesar  has  just  insinuated  that  Anthony  while  still  in  Egypt  *  practised'  against  him, 
and  is  attempting  to  prove  this,  by  what  befell  in  Italy.  His  case  would  have  been 
weak  indeed,  if  he  could  assert  merely  that  Anthony's  wife  and  brother,  in  their  war, 
had  used  Anthony's  name  as  a  pretext;  in  such  circumstances,  Anthony  himself 
might  be  as  innocent  as  the  babe  unborn.  To  prove  Anthony  guilty,  therefore, 
Caesar  must  connect  him,  personally,  with  this  *  contestation.'  He  asserts,  therefore, 
that  this  very  contestation  was  cause  enough,  in  itself,  for  Anthony's  practises — the 
mere  fact  that  it  existed  was  sufficient  matter  for  Anthony  to  work  on,  or  as  it  stands, 
in  the  fewest  possible  words,  in  the  text,  *  their  contestation  was  theme  for  3rou.' 
Then,  in  order  to  involve  them  all,  Fulvia,  Lucius,  and  Anthony,  in  one  common 
•  practise,'  Csesar  adds,  *  you  were  the  word  of  war.' — Ed.] 

57.  you  were  the  word  of  warre]  John  Hunter  :  The  signal  word  of  batde. 
So  in  the  Julius  Cesar  of  North's  Plutarch,  *  Brutus'  men  ran  to  give  charge  upon 
their  enemies,  and  tarried  not  the  word  of  battle,  nor  commandment  to  give 
charge.'     [See,  also,  'death's  the  word,'  I,  ii,  158.] 

58,  59.  neuer  Did  vrge  me  in  his  Adt]  Warburton  :  That  is,  never  did  make 
use  of  my  name  as  a  pretence  for  the  war. 

6a  reports]  That  is,  reporters,  the  abstract  for  the  concrete.  See  (in  this  ed. ) 
Lov^s  Lab.  Z.  V,  ii,  88,  *  incounters '  for  encounterers,  together  with  the  following 
additional  instances : — '  wrongs '  for  wrongers, — Jiich.  II :  II,  iii,  128 ;  *  speculations ' 
for  speculators. — Lear,  III,  i,  24;  'chase'  for  object  of  chase,— j  Hen.  VI:  II,  iv, 
II ;  possibly,  there  may  be  added,  'slander'  for  slanderer^  Rich.  II:  I,  i,  113. 


ACT  11,  sc.  ii.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  95 

Hauing  alike  your  caufe.     Of  this,  my  Letters 

Sefore  did  (atisfie  you.     If  you'l  patch  a  quarrell,  65 

.As  matter  whole  you  haue  to  make  it  with, 

64*  cam/eJl  cau/e  :  F,.     cau/e  /  F,F^  66.  you  haue  to  make]  Ran.  Knt,  Coll. 

«t  seq.  (MS),  Wh.  i,   C-Clarke.    you  haue  to 

65.  y^i]  you  Ff,  Rowe.  you  will  take  Ff.  you*ve  not  to  make  Rowe,  +  y 
Cap.  (Errata.)  Dyce  ii,  iii,  Ktly,  Dtn.    you  have  not  to 

661  As  matter]  No  matter  ColL  MS.  make  Cap.  et  cet  you've  nought  to  make 

and  you  halve  to  make  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

64*  Hauing  alike  your  cause]  Johnson  :  The  meaning  seems  to  be,  '  having 
the  same  cause  as  you  to  be  offended  with  me.'  But  why,  because  he  was  offended 
with  Antony,  should  he  make  war  upon  Caesar?  May  it  not  read  thus:  *  /fating' 
alike  our  cause  ? ' — Stebvens  :  The  old  reading  is  immediately  explained  by  Antony's 
being  the  partner  with  Octayius  in  the  cause  against  which  his  brother  fought — 
Maix)NX:  That  is,  /  having  alike  your  cause.  Did  he  not  (says  Antony)  make  wars 
against  the  inclination  of  me  also,  of  me,  who  was  engaged  in  the  same  cause  with 
yourself?  Dr  Johnson  supposed  that  having  meant,  he  having,  and  hence  has  sug- 
gested an  unnecessary  emendation. 

66.  As]  Here  equivalent  to  inasmuch  as,  since.     See  I,  iv,  25. 

66.  As  matter  whole  you  haue  to  make  it  with]  Johnson  :  The  original  read- 
ing is  without  doubt  erroneous. — Steevens  :  The  old  reading  may  be  right  It 
seems  to  allude  to  Antony's  acknowledged  neglect  in  aiding  Caesar;  but  yet  Antony 
does  not  allow  himself  to  be  faulty  upon  the  present  cause  alleged  against  him. — 
Malons  :  I  have  not  the  smallest  doubt  that  the  correction  made  by  Rowe  is  right 
The  structure  of  the  sentence,  *As  matter,'  etc.,  proves  decisively  that  not  was 
omitted.  Of  all  the  errors  that  happen  at  the  press,  omission  is  the  most  frequent. — 
Knight  (following  the  text) :  That  is,  if  you'll  patch  a  quarrel  so  as  to  seem  the 
whole  matter  you  have  to  make  it  with,  you  must  not  patch  it  with  this  complaint. 
H^ole  is  opposed  to  patch. — Collier  (also  following  the  text)  :  That  is,  do  not  find 
out  a  cause  of  quarrel  where  none  exists ;  do  not  patch  a  quarrel  when  no  patching  is 
required,  because  the  matter  is  whole. — Singer  :  The  negative  is  absolutely  necessary 
to  make  sense  of  the  passage. — Staunton  :  The  negative  is  clearly  indispensable ; 
but  to  sadsfy  the  metre,  Shakespeare  may  have  adopted  the  old  form  n*have  instead 
tihave  not, — Nichols  (i»  9)  :  The  original  text  is  right,  and  means,  as  if  you  have 
a  whole  matter  to  make  it  of,  and  wish  to  preserve  to  it  the  appearance  of  integrity, 
—of  its  being  made  out  of  a  whole  piece, — <  it  must  not  be  with  this ' — for  this  patch 
will  show,  will  be  seen.  On  the  other  hand,  if  [Rowe's  not]  be  correct — if  Caesar 
did  wish  to  '  patch  a  quarrel ' — not  having  matter  whole  to  make  it  of,  surely  no  better 
matter  could  offer  itself  for  the  purpose  than  that  which  he  is  here  expressly  told  he 
could  not  use.  The  wife  and  brother  of  Antony  had  made  war  upon  Caesar.  Caesar 
accuses  Antony,  although  he  was  in  Egypt,  of  having  instigated  them  ;  of  being,  as 
he  says,  *  the  word  of  war.'  Antony  denies  it ;  and,  most  likely,  truly ;  but  had 
Caesar  wanted  to  make  use  of  the  facts,  as  far  as  they  went,  for  the  purpose  of  patch- 
ing a  quarrel  with  Antony,  public  opinion,  notwithstanding  Antony's  denial,  would 
perhaps  have  gone  with  Caesar;  and  though  in  itself,  it  might  not  have  been  a  suf- 
ficient cause  of  quarrel,  yet  with  the  addition  of  a  few  other  grievances,  it  might  have 
been  made  to  constitute  one.     Still,  it  would  have  borne  the  appearance,  as  Antony 


96  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  ii. 

It  muft  not  be  with  this.  67 

Ccgf.  You  praife  your  felfe,  by  laying  defefts  of  iudge- 
ment  to  me  :  but  you  patcht  vp  your  excufes.  69 

68,69.  Y<yu,„excufe5\  Ff,  Rowe,  Knt.  68,  69.  de/fcts.^fm]  to  me  defects  of 

Lines  end,  selfe^ ,,, but, ..excuses  Pope  et        judgment  Cap.  Ran. 
cct.  69.  patcht\  patch  F^F^,  Rowe,-i-. 

says,  of  a  patched  quarrel,  and  not  as  made  out  of  whole  matter. — Ingleby  (Sh.  the 
Man^  etc.,  i,  145)  accepts  the  reading  of  the  Folio,  and  interprets  *you  haue '  in  the 
sense  of  obligation,  you  must,  *  Antony,'  he  says,  *  refers  to  former  letters,  and 
Caesar  to  former  excuses ;  so  that  when  Antony  speaks  of  patching  the  quarrel^  he 
means  that  the  quarrel  has  been  already  worn  out  by  discussion.  Caesar  ought  (he 
says)  to  be  able  to  adduce  a  new  and  entire  ground  of  complaint ;  but  that  if  he  wiU 
patch  up  the  old  quarrel  he  must  do  it  with  something  else  than  the  pretence  that 
Antony's  wife  and  brother  have  made  wars  upon  him.'  Ingleby  concludes  somewhat 
in  Warburtonian  style :  <  This  conclusiye  interpretation  of  the  text  was  proposed  to  me 
by  Prof.  Sylvester,  the  world-renowned  mathematician.  After  this,  an  editor  who 
shall  reprint  the  text  with  Rowe's  emendation  will  only  have  the  excuse  of  ignorance.' 
— Hudson  adopts  in  his  text  the  emendation,  '  As  matter  whole  you  Icuh  to  make  it 
with,'  and  remarks,  '  I  had  conjectured  lack  but  found  afterwards  that  I  had  been 
anticipated  by  an  anonymous  writer.'  I  do  not  know  who  this  anonymous  writer  is  ; 
he  is  also,  apparently,  unknown  to  the  Cambridge  Elditors. — The  Cowden-Clarkes 
(following  the  text) :  That  is,  if  you  wish  to  botch  up  a  quarrel,  as  you  have  whole 
and  sound  matter  to  make  it  good  with,  you  must  not  use  such  flimsy  stuff  as  this. 
We  think  that  the  phraseology  is  purposely  equivocal  here :  Antony  allowing  Caesar 
to  understand  either  '  If  you  desire  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  me,  3rou  could  find  stronger 
ground  to  base  it  upon  than  these  frivolous  causes  of  complaint,'  or  *  If  3roa  wish  to 
make  up  the  quarrel  between  us,  you  have  better  means  of  doing  so  than  by  ripping 
up  these  trivial  grievances.' — Irving  Edition  finds  Cowden-Clarke's  suggestion  that 
the  phraseology  is  equivocal,  '  a  forced  interpretation.  The  meaning  appears  rather 
to  be  the  reverse :  make  trivial  things — ^mere  bits  trnd  patches,  as  it  were — the  ground 
of  quarrel.  These  slight  occasions  for  disagreement  are  opposed  to  matter  whoie^ 
or  some  serious  cause  for  dissension.' — Rolfe  :  A  few  editors  follow  the  Folio,  bat 
their  attempts  to  explain  the  passage  are  forced  and  unsatisfactory. — Thiselton  : 
'  As '  is  equivalent  here  to  as  though  ;  compare  I,  ii,  iio ;  IV,  i,  i.  The  meaning  is, 
'  in  such  a  way  that  it  will  seem  to  be  made  all  of  a  piece.'  [To  me  the  meaning 
seems  to  be.  If  3rou'll  patch  a  quarrel,  inasmuch  as  you  must  make  the  patch  out  of 
good  whole  material,  you  must  not  take  this.  I  think  Ingleby  is  entirely  right  in 
his  interpretation. — Ed.] 

68,  69.  laying  defecfts  of  iudgement  to  me]  Capell  (i,  32) :  The  import  of 
which  in  short,  is — you  praise  yourself  at  my  expense  :  and  this  being  so,  the  word 
*  me '  in  the  next  line,  must  be  spoke  with  an  emphasis ;  which  can  not  be  lay'd  upon 
it,  in  the  situation  it  occupies  in  all  former  copies  [see  Text,  Notes  for  Capell' s  text], 
and  by  this  the  transposition  is  justify'd :  Mistakes  of  this  sort  are  often  made  by  the 
pen,  and  oftner  [jiV]  still  by  the  press  ;  such  presses  especially  as  this  Poet  had  the 
fate  to  come  out  of. 

69.  excuses]  Walker  (  Crit.  i,  246) :  I  think  excuse  is  more  Elizabethan. — Dyck 
(ed.  ii)  makes  independently  the  same  conjecture,  which  is  adopted  by  Hudson. 


ACT  II,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  97 

Anth,     Not  fo,not  fo :  70 

I  know  you  could  not  lacke,  I  am  certaine  on't^ 
Very  neceflity  of  this  thought,  that  I 
Your  Partner  in  the  caufe  'gainft  which  he  fought, 
Could  not  with  gracefull  ^y^s  attend  thofe  Warres 
Which  fronted  mine  owne  peace.     As  for  my  wife,  75 

I  would  you  had  her  fpirit,in  fuch  another, 
The  third  othVorld  is  yours  ,which  with  a  Snaffle, 
You  may  pace  eafle,  but  not  fuch  a  wife. 

Enobar.     Would  we  had  all  fuch  wiues,  that  the  men 
might  go  to  Warres  with  the  women.  80 

Anth,     So  much  vncurbable,  her  Garboiles(t!3?/2ir) 

71.  I am\  Pm  Pope,-!-,  Dyce  ii,  iii.         Varr.  Ktly. 

72.  Very\  The  very  Ktly.  76.  fuch'\  Om.  Steev.  conj. 

T^,  gracef%iU'\  graceful  Y^,    grateful  another^   Ff,  Rowe.      another! 

Pc^,+ ,  Cap.  Var.  '73.  Ktly.     another  :  Pope  et  cct. 

TS.  fronted "^     fronted    Cap.    Steev.  %i,  vncurlfalflef'\uncurbableThtoh.-\-, 

71-75.  I  know  you  could  not  lacke,  . .  .  mine  owne  peace]  Deighton  :  That 
is,  I  am  certain  that  you  could  not  help  feeling  how  impossible  it  was  for  me,  whose 
interests  were  the  same  as  yours,  to  regard  with  favourable  eyes  those  wars  which 
were  so  opposed  to  my  own  peace.  *  Very  *  is  here  an  adjective,  thorough,  *  Attend/ 
in  this  sense,  is  more  commonly  applied  to  the  ears  than  to  the  eyes. 

74.  gracefuU  eyes]  Steevens  :  We  still  say,  I  could  not  look  handsomely  on 
soch  or  soch  a  proceeding. 

75.  fronted]  Bradley  ( A'l  E,  D.  s.  v.  Front,  v.*  3)  :  To  stand  face  to  face  with  ; 
especially  to  face  in  defiance  or  hostility  ;  oppose. 

76.  I  would  you  had  her  spirit,  in  such  another]  Malone  :  Antony  means  to 
say,  I  wish  you  had  the  spirit  of  Fulvia,  embodied  in  such  another  woman  as  her ; 
I  wish  you  were  married  to  such  another  spirited  woman.  By  the  words,  '  you  had 
her  sfnrit,'  etc.  Shakspeare,  I  apprehend,  meant,  *  you  were  united  tOy  or  possessed 
of,  a  woman  with  her  spirit'  Having  formerly  misapprehended  this  passage,  and 
sn|^x>sed  that  Antony  wished  Augustus  to  be  actuated  by  a  spirit  similar  to  Fulvia' s, 
I  proposed  to  read — ^en  such  another,  in  being  frequently  printed  for  e^en  in  these 
plays. — Steevens  :  The  plain  meaning  of  Antony  is,  I  wish  you  had  my  wife's  spirit 
in  another  wife ;  L  e,  in  a  wife  of  your  own.     [See  Appendix y  Plutarch. '\ 

76.  spirit]  For  the  pronunciation  of  spirit,  see  Walker  {Crit.  i,  193)  or  I,  ii,  143. 

77,  78.  with  a  Snaffle,  You  may  pace  easie]  Schmidt  {Lex.  s.v.  Pace.  2, 
transitive)  :  To  teach  (a  horse)  to  move  according  to  the  will  of  the  rider. — [^Quan- 
deque  bonus  dormitat^  etc. — Ed.] 

79,  8a  that  the  men  might  go  to  Warres  with  the  women]  Hudson  :  I  am 
uncertain  whether  this  means  that  the  men  might  go  to  war  in  company  with  the 
women,  or  go  to  war  against  them. — [I  think  that  the  plural  '  warres '  decides  in 
fityoor  of  Hudson's  first  meaning  ;  the  number  of  fighters  on  one  side,  at  least,  would 
be  certainly  doubled. — Ed.] 

81.  80  much  vncurbable,  her  Garboiles]  John  Hunter  observes  that  <  vncurb- 

7 


98  THE  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  n.  a 

Made  out  of  her  impatience  :  which  not  wanted 
ShrodenefTe  of  policie  to  :  I  g^eeuing  grant. 
Did  you  too  much  difquiet,  for  that  you  mud. 
But  fay  I  could  not  helpe  it 

Ccefar.  I  wrote  to  you,  when  rioting  in  Alexandria  you 
Did  pocket  vp  my  Letters  :  and  with  taunts 
Did  gibe  my  Mifiue  out  of  audience. 

AnL    Sir,  he  fell  vpon  me,  ere  admitted,  then : 
Three  Kings  I  had  newly  feafted,  and  did  want 
Of  what  I  was  i'th'moming ;  but  next  day 
I  told  him  of  my  felfe,  which  was  as  much 

83.  Skrodmeffe]  Shrewdnefs  F^F^.  Thcob.  Waib.  Johns.  Cap.  AUxam 
to:^  too:  F,F^.     too^  Rowe.  you  Var.  '78  et  seq. 

84.  !»«/?,]  must  Thcob.  ct  scq.  %%,  gibe\  beg  F^,  Rowe. 

85.  fV.]  it?  Staunton's  Photolith.  89.  Sir]  Separate  line,  Cap.  et  1 

86.  when^.you]  Separate  line,  Rowe  vpon]  on  Rowc,  +  ,  Varr.  R 
et  leq.                                                                              admitted ,  then  :]  admitted: 

Alexandria  you]  Alexandria^  you        Rowe  et  seq. 

able '  is  here  an  epithet  to  the  pronoun  *  her ; '  and  Delius  believes  that  it  ref 
the  she  involved  in  <  her  garboils,'  which  amounts  to  about  the  same,  and  is,  wil 
present  text,  an  unavoidable  explanation,  for  the  simple  reason  that  'vncurb 
which,  as  Madden  (p.  313)  says, '  clearly  has  its  origin  in  the  stable,'  cannot  righ 
be  predicated  of  a  *  garboil.'  Keightley  ingeniously  evades  the  difficulty  by  le 
Anthony's  previous  speech  unfinished  and  ending  it,  after  Enobarbus's  interru] 
with  '  uncurbable.'     Thus : — *  with  a  snaffle  You  may  pace  easy,  but  not  si 

wife,[ ]So  much  uncurbable.     Her  garboils/  etc.     His  intention  would 

been  possibly  a  little  clearer,  had  he  marked  Enobarbus's  speech  as  an  Aside,  1 
it  probably  is. — Ed. 

83.  Shrodenesse]  Spelled  phonetically. — Ed. 

86-88.  I  wrote  to  3fOu,  .  .  .  out  of  audience]  The  feeble  punctuation  c 
Folio  will  readily  give  way  to  almost  any  punctuation  of  these  lines.  Dyce's,  y 
has  been  followed  by  the  Globes  the  Cambridge ^  and  the  majority  of  subsequen 
tors :  *  I  wrote  to  you  When  rioting  in  Alexandria ; '  is  somewhat  objectioi 
inasmuch  as  it  is  grammatically  ambiguous  whether  Caesar  was  rioting  or  Ant' 
There  should  be  at  least  a  conuna  after  'you'  (as  in  the  Folio),  but  a  semi-c 
as  suggested  by  Lloyd  (a/.  Cam. )»  would  be  better.  Capell's  punctuation  is  goo< 
wrote  to  you,  ^Mlen,  rioting  in  Alexandria,  you,*  etc.  All  colons  or  semi-colons 
*  Alexandria '  seem  to  me  misplaced.  Oesar  is  enumerating  Anthony's  offence 
pocket  up  his  letters  is  the  first  distinct  and  separate  offence ;  to  gibe  his  miss 
the  second  ;  and  the  two  should  be  distinguished  as  they  are  in  the  Folio,  so  it : 
to  me. — En. 

88.  MUiue]  Macbeth  in  his  letter  to  his  wife  says  that  there  came  'mi 
from  the  king,  who  all -hailed  me,'  etc. 

9a.  I  told  him  of  my  selfe]  Warburton  :  That  is,  told  him  the  condition 


ACT  II,  sc.  u.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  99 

As  to  haue  askt  him  pardon.     Let  this  Fellow  93 

Be  nothing  of  our  ftrife  :  if  we  contend 

Out  of  our  queftion  wipe  him.  95 

Ccefar.     You  haue  broken  the  Article  of  your  oath, 
which  you  fhall  neuer  haue  tongue  to  charge  me  with. 

Lep.     Soft  CtE/ar. 

Ant.     No  Lepidns ,  let  him  fpeake, 
The  Honour  is  Sacred  which  he  talks  on  now,  100 

96,97.  You. .,with'\\ATit^^TAy  broken  Hal.  Cam.     Separate  line,  Han.  Cap. 

',.fuuer..,wUh  Rowe  et  seq.  Steev.  Sing.  Dyce,  Glo.  Wh.  ii. 

98.  Soft  Csefar.]  Soft^  Otsar,  Rowe.  loo.  Honour  m]    honour's  Pope, +, 
Soft^  Otsar^  soft.  Ktly.  Mai.  Ran.  Stcev.  Varr.  ColL  Sing.  Wh. 

99.  No^    Ff,   Rowe,    Pope.   Theob.  Sta.  Ktly. 
Warb.  Johns.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Wh.  i, 

in,  when  he  had  his  last  audience. — Delius  questions  Warburton's  interpretation  and 
holds  the  true  meaning  to  be, '  I  told  him  of  my  own  accord.'  Whereupon,  Schmidt 
{^NoitSf  p.  173)  acutely  remarks  that  had  this  been  the  meaning,  the  text  should  run 

*  I  told  it  him  of  myself.' 

94.  Be  nothing  of  our  strife]  Compare  '  but  nothing  of  his  ill-ta'ne  suspition.' 
—  IVint,  TaU,  I,  ii,  530;  *  nothing  of  that  wonderfull  promise,'  etc. — Twelfth  Nighty 
III,  iv,  263. 

99.  No]  Walker  (  Vers,  289) :  Lines  wanting  the  tenth  or  final  syllable,  are  (as 
it  appears  to  me)  unknown  to  Shakespeare,  as  they  are  certainly  at  variance  with  his 
rhythm. — [Accordingly,  Walker  approves  of  the  arrangement  which  was  adopted  first 
\yf  Hanmer,  whereby  *  No  *  was  separated  from  *  Lepidus '   and  made  to  follow 

*  Caesar.'  It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  division  of  11.  96,  97  into  metrical  lengths  was 
made  by  Rowe,  and  it  is  quite  possible  so  to  change  it  as  not  to  need  *  No '  for  a 
tenth  syllable, — an  ineffable  relief  to  the  o'erfraught  heart — Ed.] 

loa  The  Honour  is  Sacred]  Warburton  :  Sacred,  for  unbroken,  unviolated, 
— Johnson  :  Warburton  seems  to  understand  this  passage  thus :  *  The  honour  which 
lie  talks  of  me  as  lacking,  is  unviolated.     I  never  lacked  it.'     This,  perhaps,  may  be 
the  true  meaning ;  but,  before  I  read  the  note,  I  understood  it  thus :  Lepidus  inter- 
rupts Caesar,  on  the  supposition  that  what  he  is  about  to  say  will  be  too  harsh  to  be 
endured  by  Antony  ;  to  which  Antony  replies — *  No,  Lepidus,  let  him  speak  ;  the 
security  of  honour  on  which  he  now  speaks,  on  which  this  conference  is  held  now, 
is  sacred f  even  supposing  that  I  lacked  honour  be/ore. — M alone:  Antony,  in  my 
opinion,  means  to  say — The  theme  of  honour  which  he  now  speaks  of,  namely,  the 
religion  of  an  oath,  for  which  he  supposes  me  not  to  have  a  due  regard,  is  sacred  ;  it 
is  a  tender  point,  and  touches  my  character  nearly.     Let  him  therefore  urge  his 
charge,  that  I  may  vindicate  myself. — M.  Mason  :  I  do  not  think  that  either  John- 
son's or  Malone's  explanation  of  this  passage  is  satisfactory.     The  true  meaning  of 
it  appears  to  be  this: — Caesar  accuses  Antony  of  a  breach  of  honour  in  denying  to 
send  him  aid  when  he  required  it,  which  was  contrary  to  his  oath.     Antony  says,  in 
his  defence,  that  he  did  not  deny  his  aid,  but,  in  the  midst  of  dissipation,  neglected  to 
send  it :  that  having  now  brought  his  forces  to  join  him  against  Pompey,  he  had 
redeemed  that  error ;  and  that  therefore  the  honour  which  Caesar  talked  of,  was  now 


ICX)  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc  xl 

Suppofing  that  I  lackt  it  :  but  on  Ccefar,  loi 

The  Article  of  my  oath. 

Ccefar.    To  lend  me  Armes,  and  aide  when  I  required 
them,  the  which  you  both  denied. 

Anth.     Neglefled  rather :  105 

And  then  when  poyfoned  houres  had  bound  me  vp 
From  mine  owne  knowledge,  as  neerely  as  I  may, 
He  play  the  penitent  to  you.     But  mine  honefty, 
Shall  not  make  poore  my  greatneffe,nor  my  power 
Worke  without  it.     Truth  is,  that  Fuluia^  1 10 

To  haue  me  out  of  Egypt,  made  Warjes  heere, 
For  which  my  felfe,  the  ignorant  motiue,  do 
So  farre  aske  pardon,  as  befits  mine  Honour 
To  ftoope  in  fuch  a  cafe. 

Lep.     ^Tis  Noble  fpoken.  115 

Mece.     If  it  might  pleafe  you,  to  enforce  no  further 

loi.  <>«  Caefar]  OH,  Caefar  FjF^.  107.  kncwledge^      Ff.       knowUt^e ; 

102.  oath.l  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han.  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Warb.  knowledge. 
Coll.  Wh.  Glo.     oath —  Theob.  et  cet.  Han.  Johns,  et  seq. 

103,  104.  To...them'\  Separate  line,  115.  NobW]  F^,  Mai.  Var.  '21,  Knt, 
Rowe  et  seq.  Coll.  i,  Dyce,  Hal.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Nobly 

106.  poy/oned'\  poisoned  Pope  et  seq.         F^F^  et  cet. 

sacred  and  inyiolate,  supposing  that  he  had  been  somewhat  deficient  before,  in  the 
performance  of  that  engagement. — The  adverb  now  refers  to  i>,  not  to  talks  on  ;  and 
the  line  should  be  pointed  thus :  <  The  honour's  sacred  that  he  talks  on,  now,  Sup> 
posing  that  I  lack'd  it.' — [I  cannot  see  that  anything  is  here  implied  more  than  that 
Anthony's  sacred  honour  haying  been  impugned,  there  can  be  no  remission  of  the 
explicit  charge,  made  by  him  who  had  supposed  that  Anthony  had  violated  it. — Ed.] 

102.  The  Article  of  my  oath]  A  majority  of  editors  have  followed  Theobald  in 
placing  a  dash  af^er  '  oath ; '  implying  an  unfinished  sentence.  Would  not  an  interro- 
gation point  be  better?  Anthony  is  repeating  Caesar's  own  words,  and  asking,  I 
think,  an  explanation. — Ed. 

106,  107.  had  bound  me  vp  Prom  mine  owne  knowledge]  Deighton  :  That 
is,  I  had  become  a  complete  stranger  to  my  nobler  nature. 

109,  no.  nor  my  power  Worke  without  it]  M alone:  Nor  my  greatness  work 
without  mine  honesty. — Delius  prefers  to  consider  *  it '  as  referring  not  to  *  honesty  * 
but  to  '  greatness,'  and  thus  paraphrases  the  sentence :  the  honesty  with  which  I 
acknowledge  my  fault,  cannot  injure  my  greatness,  cannot  diminish  the  knowledge 
of  my  worth ;  nor  can  it  cause  my  power  to  be  proved  worthless. 

115.  'Tie  Noble  spoken]  For  many  examples  of  adjectives  used  as  adverbs,  see, 
if  need  be,  Abbott,  §  i.     Compare  *  How  honourable  .  .  .  wee  Determine  for  her,' 

V,  i,  71. 

116.  If  it  might  please  you,  etc.]  Cafell  (i,  33)  :  This  imperfect  and  con- 
ditional mode  of  expressing  a  wish,  may  be  intended  as  a  mark  of  submissiveness :  in 


ACTii.  sc.  u.]       ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA       .  loi 

The  griefes  betweene  ye:  to  forget  them  quite,  '•      117 

Were  to  remember  :  that  the  prefent  neede, 
Speakes  to  attone  you. 
Lep.     Worthily  fpoken  Mecenas.  120 

Enobar,     Or  if  you  borrow  one  anothers  Loue  for  the 
inftant,  you  may  when  you  heare  no  more  words  of 
Pofnpey  retume  it  againe :  you  fhall  haue  time  to  wrangle 
in,  when  you  haue  nothing  elfe  to  do. 
Anth,     Thou  art  a  Souldier,onely  fpeake  no  more.  125 

Enob.     That  trueth  fhould  be  filent,  I  had  almoft  for- 
got. 

Anth.     You  wrong  this  prefence,  therefore  fpeake  no 
more.  1 29 

117.  quittt'\  quite.  Ff.  1 19.  atione\  atone  F^. 

118.  remember :  that'\  remember ^  that  120.  Worthily^  Worthy  Y^. 

Ff.     remember  that  Cap.  et  seq.  125.  Souldier,onefy'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 

119-  Speahesl  Speak  Cap.  (corrected         Warb.     soldier  only ; 'Y\\tx^.  tX  titX.. 
in  Errata.) 

mnj  other  light,  is  improper  ;  and —  Would  were  greatly  better  than  *  Jf.^ — ^Thiselton 
(p.  12)  :  The  punctuation  of  the  Folio  indicates  a  deferential  hesitancy  in  venturing 
to  offer  advice. — [If  this  *  punctuation '  refers  to  the  comma  after  'you,'  it  is  not 
peculiar  to  the  Folio.    There  is,  I  think,  no  edition  without  it — Ed.] 

117.  griefes]  That  is,  grievances. 

118.  the  present  neede,]  Thiselton  (p.  12) :  The  comma  after  < neede'  shows 
that  that  word  is  to  be  dwelt  upon  for  emphasis. — [Independently  of  the  fact  that  the 
punctuation  of  Shakespeare's  compositors  cannot  be  implicitly  followed,  it  may  be 
doobted  that  in  the  passage  before  us,  '  present '  be  not  the  emphatic  word.  In  the 
Tery  next  line  above  there  is  a  comma  after  *■  quite  * ;  does  this  indicate  that  *  quite '  is 
more  emphatic  than  '  to  forget  ? ' — Ed.] 

119.  attone]  Murray  (A^.  E.  D,  j.  v.)  :  Atone  is  formed  on  the  adverbial  phrase 
^  one  in  its  combined  form  as  representing  a  simple  idea,  and  1 6th  century  pro- 
nuDciation.  Short  for  the  phrase  '  set  or  make  at  one.'  .  .  .  From  the  frequent 
phrases  'set  at  one'  or  'at  onement,'  the  combined  atonement  began  to  take  the 
place  of  onement  early  in  the  i6th  century,  and  atone  to  supplant  one^  verb,  about 
1550.  Atone  was  not  admitted  into  the  Bible  in  161 1,  though  atonement  had  been 
in  since  Tindale. 

120.  spoken]  Dyce  (ed.  ii)  conjectures  that  this  should  be  tpoke^  overlooking 
the  fact  that  it  is  so  printed  by  Steevens  in  1793,  followed  by  the  Variorums  of  1803 
and  1813,  and  is  suggested  by  Walker  (  CViV.  i,  131).  This  oversight,  unaccountable 
in  so  careful  an  editor,  beguiled  the  Cam.  Edd.  who  record  it  as  Dyce' s  conjecture 
in  their  footnotes. — Ed. 

126.  That  trueth  should  be  silent]  Steevens  :  We  find  a  similar  sentiment  in 
King  Lear :  'Truth's  a  dog  must  to  kennel,'  etc.,  I,  iv,  124. — Walker  (CnV.  ii, 
170)  :  The  structure  of  the  sentence  looks  as  if  Enobarbus  were  referring  to  a  proverb. 
— [Steevens  and  Staunton  in  the  next  note  make  a  similar  suggestion.] 


102  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  ii.  sc.  iL 

Enob.,    Go  too  then  :  your  Confiderate  ftone.  130 

130.  Go  too]  Go  to  Ff.  gone  Leo  (ed.  p.  142  and  iV.  6h  Qu,  IV, 

your  Confideraiejloru.']  your  con-  iii,  191).     see  me  your  considerate  staHe- 

siderate  stone —  Var.  '73.    your  confed-  Words,    you*  re  considerate  stone  Elxe. 

erateslove.  Heath,    your  considerate  tone  your  confederates  atone  Lloyd  ap.  Cam. 

Nichols  (withdrawn),   your  considerate  your  confederate  atone  Browne  ap.  Cam. 
stone  am  /  Ktly  conj .  your  confederate's 

130.  your  Considerate  stone]  Johnson  :  This  line  is  passed  by  all  the  editors, 
as  if  they  understood  it,  and  believed  it  universally  intelligible.  I  cannot  find  in  it 
any  very  obvious,  and  hardly  any  possible  meaning.  I  would  therefore  read :  '  Go 
to  then,  you  considerate  ones.*  You  who  dislike  my  frankness  and  temerity  of 
speech,  and  are  so  considerate  and  discreet,  go  to,  do  your  own  business. — Cafell 
(i,  33),  in  this  instance  keener  than  Dr  Johnson,  gives  the  meaning  of  Enobarbus  as 
that  *  he  would,  from  thenceforth,  be  a  very  stone  for  silence,  but  he  would  think 
a  little.' — Steevens  :  That  is,  if  I  must  be  chidden,  henceforward  I  will  be  as  mute 
as  a  marble  statue,  which  seems  to  think,  though  it  can  say  nothing.  '  As  silent  as  a 
stone,'  however,  might  have  been  once  a  conunon  phrase. — [Hereupon  follow  several 
examples  which  might  be  multiplied,  drawn  from  old  sources  where  a  stone  is  used 
as  a  simile  of  silence  or  stillness.] — Blackstons  :  The  metre  of  this  line  is  deficient. 
It  will  be  perfect,  and  the  sense  rather  clearer,  if  we  read  (without  altering  a  letter) : 
* — your  consideratest  one.'  I  doubt,  indeed,  whether  this  adjective  is  ever  used 
in  the  superlative  degree  ;  but  in  the  mouth  of  Enobarbus  it  might  be  pardoned. — 
RiTSON  (Cursory  Crit,  85)  :  As  Enobarbus,  to  whom  this  line  belongs,  generally 
speaks  in  plain  prose,  there  is  no  occasion  for  any  further  attempt  to  harmonize  it — 
Collier  (ed.  i)  :  It  may  be  a  question  whether  Enobarbus  means  to  call  Antony  *a 
considerate  stone,'  or  to  say  merely  that  he  will  be  silent  as  a  stone.  If  the  former, 
we  must,  with  Johnson,  change  <  your '  to  you  ;  but  the  latter  affords  a  clear  mean- 
ing without  any  alteration  of  the  ancient  text. — Dyce  {Remarks^  246)  :  Enobarbus 
call  Antony  a  stone  !  he  would  as  soon  have  ventured  to  throw  one  at  him.  John- 
son's proposed  alteration,  bad  as  it  certainly  was,  did  not  involve  such  an  absurdity. 
— Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  That  is,  I  will  be  as  considerate  as  a  stone.  Johnson's  notion 
[where?]  that  Enobarbus  meant  to  call  Antony  a  <  considerate  stone,'  does  not  seem 
to  us,  recollecting  that  the  words  were  those  of  a  rough  free-spoken  soldier,  such  an 
'  absurdity '  as  it  appeared  to  the  Rev.  Mr  Dyce.  In  speaking  of  the  note  in  our  first 
edition,  he  ought  to  have  remembered  two  things,  which  he  has  entirely  overlooked, 
viz.,  that  we  gave  the  very  text  he  supports,  and  that  we  ourselves  said  no  change  was 
needed.  If  Mr  Dyce  had  been  more  of  a  <  considerate  stone,'  he  would  have  saved 
himself  from  the  appearance  of  endeavouring  to  make  a  fault  where  he  could  not  find 
one.  We  do  not  at  all  say  that  the  suspicion  would  be  just,  but  that  he  has  laid 
himself  open  to  it. — [Whoever  wishes  to  hear  the  last  word  in  this  deplorable  quarrel 
between  two  men  who  had  been  for  many  years  fast  friends,  will  find  it  in  Dyce's 
Strictures^  p.  203,  where  he  exultantly  proves  that  to  Collier  exclusively  belongs  the 
notion  that  Enobarbus  called  Antony  a  stone  I  Time  did  not  abate  the  flush  of 
Dyce's  triumph.  Seven  years  later  he  repeated  these  remarks  in  his  Strictures  at 
full  length,  in  his  Second  Edition,  Apparently,  so  far  from  being  crushed  under 
this  appalling  stigma  of  bad  preeminence,  Collier  in  his  Monovolume  placidly  printed 
^yoH  considerate  stone,'  and  in  his  Third  Edition^  while  returning  to  the  old  text, 
reprinted  the  substance  of  the  note  in  his  First  Edition.'\ — Staunton  :  As  silent  as 


ACT  II.  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  103 

Ca/ar.     I  do  not  much  diflike  the  matter,  but  131 

TJie  manner  of  his  fpeech  :  for't  cannot  be, 
We  fhall  remaine  in  friendftiip,  our  conditions 
So  diffring  in  their  a£b.     Yet  if  I  knew. 
What  Hoope  fhould  hold  vs  ftaunch  from  edge  to  edge         135 

131,   132.  matter.., manner]  manner  i^^,  1^6.  knew^.^aunch  ...world :] 

,..matttr  Warb.  Cap.  knrw^  ...staunch^  ...worlds  Rowe.    knew 

1^2.  forW]  for  it  Varr.  Mai.  Steev.  .. ^/a«»f A,... w^d/,  Theob. Warb.  Johns. 

Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Wh.  Hal.  knew. ..staunch^  ...world  Vo^  et  cct. 

a  slant  was  an  expression  not  unusual  fonnerly,  and  the  words  in  the  text  may  here- 
after be  found  to  be  proverbial ;  at  present  they  are  inexplicable. — Hudson  :  Mean- 
ing, apparently,  /  am  your  considerate  stone ;  like  a  statue,  which  seems  to  speak, 
but  does  not. — Elze  (p.  285)  is,  apparently,  willing  to  be  pilloried  alongside  of 
Collier,  and  suggests,  although  <  with  hesitation,'  *you^re  considerate  stone,'  that  b : 

*  You  are  indeed  considerate  (  «  discreet,  circumspect),  but  at  the  same  time  "  sense- 
less as  a  stone,'*  inaccessible  to  conciliatory  and  tender  emotions.' — [Instead  of  say- 
ing as  in  modem  parlance,  *  All  right  Your  obedient  servant,'  Enobarbus  replies  in 
efifect,  *I  understand.  Your  intelligent  and  accommodating  stone,'  with  all  that  a 

*  stone '  implies  of  dumbness,  deafness,  and  impassivity.  At  least  such  is  the  inter- 
pretation of  Enobarbus' s  words  in  the  opinion  of  the  present  Ed.] 

131,  132.  I  do  not  much  dislike  the  matter,  but  The  mamier,  etc.]  War- 
burton  :  What,  not  dislike  the  matter  of  it  ?  when  he  says  presently  after,  that  he 
would  do  everything  to  prevent  the  evil  Enobarbus  predicted.  Besides  are  we  to 
suppose  that  common  civility  would  suffer  him  to  take  the  same  liberty  with  Antony's 
lieutenant,  that  Antony  himself  did  ?  Shakespeare  wrote  *  I  do  not  much  dislike  the 
manner,  but  The  matter  of  his  speech,'  etc.,  f.  e.  'tis  not  his  liberty  of  speech,  but 
the  mischiefs  he  speaks  of,  which  I  dislike.  This  agrees  with  what  follows,  and  is 
said  with  much  urbanity,  and  show  of  friendship. — Heath  (p.  454)  :  That  is.  As  to  the 
matter  of  what  he  hath  said,  there  is  probably  too  much  truth  in  it,  though  the  want 
of  respect  in  his  manner  of  saying  it  may  deserve  blame.  That  this  is  the  sense 
is  most  clearly  evident  from  the  confession  of  Caesar  which  immediately  follows. — 
Capell  (i,  33)  :  Here  is  another  transposition;  the  words  *  manner*  and  *  matter*  : 
the  emendation  was  started  by  [Warburton],  is  confirm'd  by  what  the  speaker  sajrs 
afterwards,  and  recommended  by  much  delicacy. — [The  present  play  was  the  fifth 
that  Capell  printed  (vol.  i,  p.  ig,  footnote) .  It  is  noteworthy  how  much  in  these 
early  plays  he  was  under  the  influence  of  Warburton.  In  the  present  instance,  he 
preferred  the  speciousness  of  Warburton  to  the  sound  sense  of  Heath. — Ed.] — 
Johnson  :  <  I  do  not  (says  Caesar),  think  the  man  wrong,  but  too  free  of  his  inter- 
position ;  for  it  cannot  be,  we  shall  remain  in  friendship  ;  yet  if  it  were  possible,  I 
would  endeavour  it.' 

133.  conditions]  That  is,  dispositions,  natures,  tempers. 

135.  What  Hoope  should  hold  vs  staunch]  There  is  the  same  simile  of  a  hoop 
about  a  cask  in  2  Hen.  IV:  IV,  iv,  43,  *  A  hoop  of  gold  to  bind  thy  brothers  in. 
That  the  united  vessel  of  their  blood  .  .  .  shall  never  leak.'— Corson  (p.  277):  It 
most  evidently  be  understood  by  this  speech,  that  a  *hoop,'  and  a  very  politic  one, 
has  been  already  decided  upon  by  Octavius  and  his  crafty  counsellor,  Agrippa.    What 


104 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  II,  sc.  ii. 


Ath'world  :  I  would  perfue  it. 

Agri,     Giue  me  leaue  Ccefar. 

Ccefar,     Speake  Agrippa, 

Agri.  Thou  haft  a  Sifter  by  the  Mothers  fide^admir'd 
Oftatiia  ?  Great  Mark  Anthony  is  now  a  widdower. 

Ca/arSdy^  not,  fay  Agrippa ;  if  Cleopater  heard  you,your 
proofe  were  well  deferued  of  rafhneffe . 


136 


140 


142 


136.  Ath''\    ath'   Rowe   ii    ct    seq. 
(subs. ) 

137,  Oefar.]  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Coll.  ii, 
iii,  Cam.     Casar, —  Cap.  et  cet. 

138.  Agrippa]  ^oad  Agrippa  Words. 

139,  14a    Thou  ...  widdower\  Lines 
end,  side.,. Antony.,, widower  Rowe  et 

seq. 

139.  ^  the\  by  thy  Yi^  Rowe. 

140.  Oflauia /]    Octavia  I   Rowe, +, 
Octavia  :  Han.  Cap.  et  seq. 

widdower. "^  widower:  Cap. 


141,  142.  Say,,,rajknejfe'\  Lines  end, 
Agrippa,,, were, „ra/kneffe  Pope.  Lines 
end,  Agrippa,,. proof e,.,rajknejfe  Theob. 
et  seq. 

141.  notyfay\  Ff.  not  so,  Rowe  et 
seq.     it  not  Coll.  MS. 

Cleopater]  Cleopatra  Ff  et  seq. 

142.  proofe^  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  eipproof 
Theob.  Warb.  reproof  yfzxb.  conj.  Han. 
Johns,  et  seq. 

of]  for  Han.  Coll.  MS. 


follows  shows  this ;  and  afibrds  a  special  illustration,  too,  of  Antony's  genius  rebuked 
by  Octavius's. 

137.  Qiue  me  leaue  Csesar.]  It  can  hardly  be  that  the  comma  and  dash  after 
« Caesar,'  begun  by  Capell  and  continued  by  a  large  majority  of  modem  editors,  are 
right  Where  all  are  so  courtly  in  this  conference,  it  cannot  be  likely  that  Caesar 
would  break  in  upon  Agrippa's  first  words,  especially  if  it  were  merely  to  tell  him  to 
continue  speaking,  a  very  needless  permission ;  the  end  would  have  been  gained 
by  Caesar's  keeping  silent  If  we  erase  the  period  of  the  Folio,  I  think  we  should 
substitute  an  interrogation  mark. — Ed. 

139.  a  Sister  by  the  Mothers  side]  OcUvia  was  Caesar*s  own  sister,  by  the 
same  mother,  Atia ;  but  Shakespeare  here  follows  Plutarch  who  says  that  her  mother 
was  Ancharia.     See  Appendix^  Pbttarck, 

141 .  Say  not,  say  Agrippa]  Corrected  by  Rowe.  This  is  one  of  the  very  numer- 
ous instances  collected  by  Walker  i^Crit,  i,  314)  in  his  fifty-eight  pages  of  the  '  Sab- 
stitution  of  Words,*  generally  to  be  attributed,  as  here,  to  proximity. 

141,  142.  your  proofe]  Theobald  said  that  he  made  *no  scrapie  to  restore 
«« your  approop^ '  Hani|Er's  text  reads,  <  your  reproof '  and  a  footnote  has  <  Warh. 
emend}  Warburton's  own  text,  however,  follows  Theobald,  and  he  has  no 
note  on  the  passage.  Hsath  (p.  451)  gives  a  good  interpretation  of  Theobald's 
text,  but  there  b  little  need  to  reprint  it,  inasmuch  as  Warburton's  emendation  has 
been  uniformly  followed.  M.  Mason  |»x>periy  interpreted  '  your  reproof'  as  *  the 
reproof  yon  would  undergo,'  and  quoted  as  parallel  a  passage  from  Beaumont  & 
Fletcher^s  Custom  fftJke  Ctmntn-,  V,  iv,  where  *■  Your  great  opinion  in  the  worid '  is 
equivalent,  so  he  said,  to  *  the  great  opinion  conceived  of  you ; '  but  he  was  herein 
possibly  wrong  as  to  the  exact  meaning.  Malone  detected  the  source  of  the  error 
ia  the  Folio,  which  lay  in  makii^  the  r  in  *  3roor '  do  double  duty,  for  itself  and  for 
« rtproof/  and  cited  as  a  parallel  case  *  Mine  Nightii^e,'  IV,  viii,  24.  This  error 
wtt  due»  90  MakMie  said,  to  the  transcriber  s  ear  deceiving  him. — ^Abbott  ({  423) : 


ACT  II.  sc.  ii.]       ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  105 

Anth.    I  am  not  marry ed  Ccsfar  :  let  me  heere  Agrippa         143 
further  fpeake. 

Agri.     To  hold  you  in  perpetuall  ami  tie,  145 

To  make  you  Brothers,  and  to  knit  your  hearts 
With  an  vn-flipping  knot,  take  Anthony, 
Odauia  to  his  wife  :  whofe  beauty  claimes 
No  worfe  a  husband  then  the  bed  of  men  :  whofe 
Vertue,and  whofe  generall  graces,  fpeake  150 

That  which  none  elfe  can  vtter.     By  this  marriage. 
All  little  leloufies  which  now  feeme  great. 
And  all  great  feares,  which  now  import  their  dangers. 

Would  then  be  nothing.     Truth's  would  be  tales. 

Where  now  halfe  tales  be  truth's  :  her  loue  to  both,  155 

Would  each  to  other,  and  all  loues  to  both 

Draw  after  her.     Pardon  what  I  haue  fpoke 

For  'tis  a  (ludied  not  a  prefent  thought,  158 

143,  144.  Agrippa... ^^a>&^]  Separate  154,  155.  TrutJCs,,.trutk5\Y^,  truths 
line,  Rowe  et  seq.                                             ,.. truths  F  F^  et  seq. 

144.  furthtr^  farther  Coll.   Wh.   i,  154.  be  tales'\  be  but  tales  Pope,  +  , 

Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Sing.  Dyce  ii,  iii. 


149,   150.  whofe,.,fpeake'\  One  line,         then  be  tales  Cap.  Coll.  iii.    be  half  tales 

^y  Rowe  et  seq.  Ran.  Sta.  conj.     be  as  tales  Steev.  conj. 

153.  import^   impart  Coll.    MS   ap.         be  tales  only  YJ\y,   be  mere  tales  Id.  con). 

155.  halfe  tales]  half  tales  Ktly. 


Instead  of  '  your  reproof  of  rashness '  we  should  now  say,  '  the  reproof  of  your  rash- 
Bess'  (unless  *of'  here  means  about,  far). — Corson  (p.  277) :  This  speech  seems 
to  convey  the  impression  that  the  proposal  of  marriage  between  Antony  and  Octavia, 
iDtimated  in  the  last  speech  of  Agrippa,  was  something  new  to  Octavius.  But  he 
evidently  knows  just  what's  coming  from  Agrippa. 

147.  take  Anthony]  For  other  examples  of  the  subjunctive  used  imperatively, 
lee  Abbott  §  364. 

151.  That  which  none  else  can  vtter]  Wordsworth  :  That  is,  for  themselves 
better  than  any  one  else  can. 

154  would  be  tales]  Walker  (  Vers.  p.  165)  approves  of  Hanmer's  'would  be 
b$ti  tales.' — Staunton:  The  remedy  [for  the  defective  metre]  most  accordant  with 
the  poet's  manner  is  to  read  *  would  be  half  tales,'  etc. — [Herein  Staunton  was, 
unwittingly,  anticipated  by  Rann,  an  editor  far  too  often  overlooked. — Ed.] — Hud- 
son :  The  meaning  here  is  somewhat  dark,  but  may  be  explained  thus :  <  Even  true 
reports  of  differences  between  you  will  then  pass  for  idle  tales,  and  will  not  catch 
public  credit ;  whereas  now  mere  rumours  of  such  differences  easily  gain  belief,  and 
so  do  all  the  mischief  of  truths.'  Here,  as  often,  *  where '  is  equivalent  to  whereas. 
—Abbott  (}  508)  gives  this  line  as  an  instance  of  the  omission  of  a  foot  [before 
•Truth's']. 


I06  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  il 

By  duty  ruminated. 

Anth.     Will  GcBfar  fpeake  ?  i6o 

Ccefar,     Not  till  he  heares  how  Anthony  is  toucht, 
With  what  is  fpoke  already. 

Anth,     What  power  is  in  Agrippa^ 
If  I  would  fay  Agrippay  be  it  fo, 
To  make  this  good  ?  165 

CcB/ar.     The  power  of  Cafar^ 
And  his  power,vnto  Oilauia, 

Anth,     May  I  neuer 
(To  this  good  purpofe,that  fo  fairely  fhewes) 
Dreame  of  impediment  :  let  me  haue  thy  hand  170 

Further  this  aft  of  Grace  :  and  from  this  houre. 
The  heart  of  Brothers  goueme  in  our  Loues, 
And  fway  our  great  Defignes. 

Ccefar.    There's  my  hand: 
A  Sifter  I  bequeath  you,  whom  no  Brother  175 

Did  euer  loue  fo  deerely.     Let  her  Hue 
To  ioyne  our  kingdomes^and  our  hearts, and  neuer 
Flie  off  our  Loues  againe. 

Lepi.     Happily ,  Amen . 

Ant.\  did  not  think  to  draw  my  Sword  'gainft  Pompeyy  180 
For  he  hath  laid  ftrange  courtefies,  and  great 

161.  totuht'^  ^oucA't/Kowc,  170,  171.  hand  Furtherl  hand;  Fur- 

162.  fpoke\  fpoken  F^F^,  Rowe.  /A^rTheob.  et  seq.  (subs.) 

already^  Om.  Han.  174.    Ther^s\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Knt, 

164.  Agrippa  ...yi>]     As    quotation.  Sing.      There  is  Theob.  et  cet. 

Theob.  [Antony  takes  it.  Coll.  ii. 

166, 167.  The^.Andl  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  180.  ^gainfll  againft  Ff. 

Knt,  Sta.     Separate  line,  Theob.  ct  cet.  181.  hath  laid^  hath  FjF^. 

168.  Mayl  Mao  F,. 

162.  is  spoke]  See  line  115,  above. 

164.  If  I  would  say]  Abbott  (§  331)  :  This  means,  <If  I  wished,  were  dis- 
posed, to  say.* 

170.  let  me  haue  thy  hand]  Note  the  instant  change  to  the  familiar  <thy/ 
Csesar  is  not  so  warm-hearted  ;  he  retains  the  distant  '  you '  to  the  end. — Ed. 

175.  I  bequeath  you]  Murray  {N.E.D,  s.v.)  :  An  ancient  word,  the  retention 
of  which  is  due  to  the  traditional  language  of  wills.  II.  To  '  say  (a  thing)  away ; ' 
to  give  or  part  vrith  by  formal  declaration.  .  .  .  b.  To  *  leave  *  by  will.  (The  only 
surviving  sense  for  which  it  is  the  proper  term.) 

178.  Flie  ofiT]  In  the  same  constraction  with  'Let'  in  line  176. 


ACT  II,  sc.  iL]       ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 

Of  late  vpon  me.     I  muft  thanke  him  onely, 
I-eaft  my  remembrance,  fuffer  ill  report  : 
At  heele  of  that,  defie  him. 
LcpL    Time  cals  vpon's. 
Of  vs  muft  Pompey  prefently  be  fought, 
Or  elfe  he  feekes  out  vs. 
-Anth.     Where  lies  he  ? 
Ca/ar.     About  the  Mount-Mefena. 
Anth,     What  is  his  ftrength  by  land  ? 
Ca/ar.     Great,  and  encreafmg : 
^ut  by  Sea  he  is  an  abfolute  Mafter. 

Anth,     So  is  the  Fame, 
Would  we  had  fpoke  together.    Haft  we  for  it, 


107 
182 


185 


190 


194 


182.  him  onefy,"]  Aim,  only  Nicholson 
^.  Cam. 

183.  Ltafil  Left  Yi  et  seq. 

185.  vpofC5\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob. 
Warb.  Johns.  Dyce,  Wh.  Glo.  orCs  Han. 
upon  us  Cap.  et  cet. 

188.  Where]  And  where  Han.  Steev. 
Vtr.  '03,  13. 

he  /]  he  J  Casar  f  Cap.    he  now  ? 
Kdy,  Words. 

189.  Mefena\  MUenum  Rowe.  Mise- 
iNu  Johns. 


190-192.  What.., Mafter]  Ff,  Rowe, 
■\  ,  Knt,  Glo.  Sta.  Lines  end,  strength 
.,. sea... master  Han.  Cam.  et  cet. 

190,  191.  by  land?  Csefar.  Great] 
Caes.  By  land  great  Han.  Ktly. 

190.  What  is]  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Knt,  Glo. 
Sta.     WhaVs  Han.  Cam.  et  cet. 

191,  192.  Great... Sea]  Separate  line, 
Theob.  et  seq. 

193.  So  is]  So^s  Han. 

luime]  Frame  F  F  ,  Rowe. 

194.  Hajl]  Hajle  Y^^, 


183.  Least  my  remembrance,  suffer  ill  report]  Johnson  :  Lest  I  be  thought 
too  willing  to  forget  benefits,  I  must  barely  return  him  thanks,  and  then  I  will  defy 
him. 

184.  At  heele]  Abbott  (§  89)  considers  that  the  article  is  here  omitted.  It  is 
also  possible  that  it  is  absorbed  in  the  /  of  *  At. ' 

186.  Of  vs]  *  Of '  is  here  used  of  the  agent  where  we  should  say  by. 

189.  About]  To  complete  the  deficient  line,  *  Or  else  he  seekes  out  vs.  Where 
lies  he?'  Walker  (§  Crit.  iii,  298)  would  affix  to  it  this  'About'  and  pronounce 
it  'Bout. 

189.  the  Mount-Mesena]  Rolf£  :  The  promontory  in  the  Bay  of  Naples,  now 
known  as  the  Punta  di  Miseno. 

194.  Would  we  had  spoke  together]  Schmidt  {Lex.) :  Sometimes,  in  a  kind 
of  euphemism,  *  speak  *  is  equivalent  to  exchange  blows,  to  fight :  *  they  lie  in  view, 
but  have  not  spoke  as  yet.' — Coriol.  I,  iv,  4;  *thou  canst  not  fear  us,  Pompey,  with 
thy  sails;  we*ll  speak  with  thee  at  sea* — the  present  play,  II,  vi,  30. — [The  third 
and  last  of  Schmidt's  examples  is  the  present  line,  which,  in  his  translation  of  this 
play,  he  thus  renders,  *0  wiren  wir  schon  an  ihm ! '  with  the  note  (p.  173)  that 
Tieck  translates  it :  <  '<  H&tt'  ich  ihn  doch  gesprochen  !  "  in  which  sense,'  Schmidt 
goes  on  to  say, '  all  other  editors,  to  judge  from  their  eloquent  silence,  have  also  taken 


Io8  THE    TRACED  IE   OF  [act  ii,  sc.  ii. 

Yet  ere  we  put  our  felues  in  Armes,  difpatch  we  195 

The  bufineffe  we  haue  talkt  of. 

CcBfar.     With  moil  gladneffe, 
And  do  inuite  you  to  my  Sifters  view, 
Whether  ftraight  He  lead  you. 

Anth.     Let  vs  Lepidus  not  lacke  your  companie.  200 

Lep,     Noble  Anthony,  not  fickeneffe  fhould  detaine 
me. 

Flourijh.     Exit  omnes, 
Manet  Enobarbus,  Agrippa,  Mecenas. 

Mec.     Welcome  from  JEgypt  Sir.  205 

Eno.     Halfe  the  heart  of  Ca/ar,  worthy  Mecenas.    My 
honourable  Friend  Agrippa. 

Agri.     Good  Enobarbus. 

Mece.     We  haue  caufe  to  be  glad,  that  matters  are  fo 
well  difgefted  :  you  ftaid  well  by't  in  Egypt.  210 

199.   Whether^  Whither  Yt  Han. 

//^•]    rU  FjF^.      /  will  Varr.  203.  Exit]  Exeunt  Ff. 

Mai.  Steev.  Van.  204-217.  Om.  Gar. 

200-202.  Z^/...m^]  Lines  end,  Lepi-  204.  Manet]  Manent  Ff. 

dus, ..Anthony.,. me  ^2Ji,  Q9,^,V^,^^%  206.   Mecenas. ]  i9/<fr^itar,  Pope.    Me- 

et  seq.  c^tnas  !  Theob.  + . 

[Scene  III.  Pope,  +  .  210.  difgeaed^  digeftedYi. 

201.  Noble\  NobldY^.  byt'\  Yf,  Rowe,  +  ,  Sing.  Dyce, 

203.  Flourifti.]  Om.  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Wh.  Glo.  Ktly.     fy  it  Cap.  et  cet 


it.'  He  then  quotes  the  same  examples  which  he  gives  in  his  Lexicon,  with  the 
remark  that  they  can  bear  no  possible  meaning  other  than  that  which  he  gives. — Ed.] 

197.  With  most  gladnesse]  See  Abbott  (§  17)  for  other  examples  where 
*  most '  is  used  as  the  superlative  of  great. 

199.  Whether]  Walker  (  Vers.  105)  :  The  verse  indicates  that  this  is  a  mono- 
syllable. 

206.  Halfe  the  heart]  Deighton  :  A  translation  of  Horace's  '  animae  dimidiom 
mese.' — Ode  I,  iii,  8. 

206.  Eno.  Halfe  the  heart,  etc.]  Delius  {^Sh.  Jahrb.  V,  267)  :  Only  once  in 
the  earnest  political  conference  of  the  Triumvirs  did  Enobarbus  venture,  in  prose, 
to  interject  a  bold  word,  for  which  he  was  immediately  checked ;  but  now,  there- 
fore, after  the  departure  of  his  rigorous  masters,  he  enters  with  more  freedom  into 
a  conversation  in  prose  with  Maecenas.  But  as  soon  as  the  talk  rises  from  the 
domain  of  mere  gossip  to  a  description  of  Antony's  first  meeting  with  Qeopatra,  he 
resumes  blank  verse.  The  poet  was  well  enough  aware  that  only  in  blank  verse 
could  this  majestic  masterpiece  be  adequately  portrayed,  and,  therefore,  the  humour- 
ous side  of  Enobarbus' s  character  is  here  abandoned. 

210.  disgested]  An  old,  not  uncommon  form ;  it  occurs  again  in  Coriol.  I,  i, 
154,  in  the  Folio. 


ACT  II,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  109 

Enob.  I  Sir,  we  did  fleepe  day  out  of  countenaunce  :  211 
and  made  the  night  light  with  drinking. 

Mece.     Eight  Wilde-Boares  rofted  whole  at  a  break- 
faft  :  and  but  twelue  perfons  there.     Is  this  true  ? 

Eno.This  was  but  as  a  Flye  by  an  Eagle;we  had  much         215 
more  monftrous  matter  of  Feaft,  which  worthily  defer- 
ued  noting. 

Mecen  as.     She's  a  mod  triumphant  Lady,  if  report  be 
fquare  to  her. 

Enob.  When  fhe  firft  met  Marke  Anthony^  fhe  purft  220 
vp  his  heart  vpon  the  Riuer  of  Sidnis. 

Agri.    There  fhe  appeared  indeed  :  or  my  reporter  de- 
uis'd  well  for  her. 

Eno.     I  will  tell  you,  224 

2IX.   / 5f>,]  y(y  5iV,  Rowe.  Ay ,  Sir,  220-271.  Om.  Kemble. 

Thcob.     Ay,  sir;  Cap.  Mai.  et  seq.  220.  purft'\  pursed  Rovre, 

214.  />l<vr.]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.    ^Aergf  221.   Sidnis]  Cydnus  ¥i. 

Su.  Ktly.  there; — Theob.  et  cet.(subs.)  222,  223.  deuis'd,.,her']  Separate  line, 

215.  <w]  Om.  Rowe  ii,  Pope.  Cap.  Varr.  Ran. 
218-285.  Transposed  to  follow  I,  i,  224.  yoUt'lyoUf  Sir:  Cap. 

71.  Gar. 

2x3.  Eight  Wilde-Boares,  etc.]  See  Appendix,  Plutarch, 

215.  This  was  but  as  a  Flye  by  an  Eagle]  By  the  few  editors  who  have  taken 
note  of  this  phrase,  it  has  been  interpreted  as  conveying  merely  a  comparison ;  the 
eight  boars  were  merely  as  a  fly  by  the  side  of,  and  so  in  comparison  with,  an  eagle. 
Is  it  not  capable  of  a  different  interpretation  ?  Maecenas  wonders  that  eight  boars 
shoold  have  been  a  breakfast  for  only  twelve  persons.  Enobarbus  replies,  in  effect, 
that  so  far  from  eight  boars  having  been  considered  an  inordinate  repast,  it  was  no 
more  than  a  fly  would  be  considered  a  hearty  breakfast  by  an  eagle. — Ed. 

218,  219.  if  report  be  square  to  her]  Steevens  :  That  is,  if  report  quadrates 
with  her,  or  suits  with  her  merits. 

221.  vpon  the  Riuer  of  Sidnis]  M.  Mason  :  This  passage  is  a  strange  instance 
of  Diligence  and  inattention  in  Shakspeare.  Enobarbus  is  made  to  say  that  Cleo- 
patra gained  Antony's  heart  on  the  river  Cydnus ;  but  it  appears  from  the  conclusion 
of  his  own  description,  that  Antony  had  never  seen  her  there  ;  that,  whilst  she  was 
on  the  river,  Antony  was  sitting  alone,  enthroned  in  the  market-place,  whistling  to 
the  air,  all  the  people  having  left  him  to  gaze  upon  her :  and  that,  when  she  landed, 
be  sent  to  her  to  invite  her  to  supper. — Cowden-Clarke  :  The  inattention  is 
Bdason's,  not  Shakespeare's  ;  the  expression  '  upon  the  river  of  Cydnus,'  is  here  used 
to  signify  *the  district  on  the  shores  of  the  river  of  Cydnus,'  including  the  'city' 
which  '  cast  her  people  out  upon  her,'  and  its  <  market-place '  wherein  <  Antony '  sat 
'enthroned.'  The  idiom  'upon  the  Seine/  or  'upon  the  Thames'  is  employed  to 
express  the  adjacent  shores  of  those  rivers,  the  country  in  their  neighborhood. — RoLFE : 
Mason's  criticism  reminds  one  of  Yellowplush's  surprise  at  finding  Boulogne*sar- 
Mer  was  on  the  shore  and  not  '  on  the  sea.' 


no 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  II,  sc. 


The  Barge  fhe  lat  in,  like  a  burniflit  Throne 

Burnt  on  the  water  :  the  Poope  was  beaten  Gold, 

Purple  the  Sailes  »nd  fo  perfumed  that 

The  Windes  were  Loue-ficke. 

With  them  the  Owers  were  Siluer, 

Which  to  the  tune  of  Flutes  kept  ftroke,  and  made 

The  water  which  they  beate,  to  follow  fafter; 

As  amorous  of  their  ftrokes.   For  her  owne  perfon, 

It  beggerd  all  difcription,  (he  did  lye 

In  her  Pauillion,  cloth  of  Gold,  of  Tiffue, 

0're-pi(5luring  that  Venns,  where  we  fee 


221 


235 


225-249.  Mnemonic  lines,  Warb. 
226.  jff«r«/] -5«r«VMal.  Steev.Vair. 
CoU.  Dyce,  Wh.  Glo.  Hal. 

228,  229.  The ...  Siluer\    One  line, 
Pope  et  seq. 

Loue-fuke.  WUh  theml  Ff, 
Rowe.  love-iick  with  >w/  Pope, +  , 
Var.  '73.  love'Sick  :  with  them  Knt.  i, 
ii.     love-sick  with  them  :  Cap.  et  cet. 

229.  the  Owers]  the  Oares  F,Fj.    th' 


oars  Pope,  Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Dy^ 
ii,  iii.     the  oars  F^  et  cet. 

231.  fafter]  after  Gould. 

232.  theirflrokes]  herflrokes  F^F^. 

234.  cloth  of  Gold,  of  Tiffue]  clothof- 
gold  of  tissue  Sta.  In  parenthesis,  Cap. 
et  seq. 

of  Tiffue]   and  tissue  Coll.  ii, 
Ktly. 

235.  Venns]  Venus  Ff. 


225.  The  Barge  she  sat  m,  etc.]  Hazlitt  (p.  97) :  The  rich  and  poetical 
description  of  Cleopatra's  person  seems  to  prepare  the  way  for,  and  almost  to  justify 
the  subsequent  infatuation  of  Antony  when  in  the  sea-fight  at  Actium,  he  leaves  the 
battle,  and  '  like  a  doating  mallard '  follows  her  flying  sails. — Hartley  Coleridge 
(ii,  184)  :  Beautiful  as  this  description  is,  one  might  almost  desire  that  it  had  been 
uttered  by  a  more  interesting  personage.  Dryden  has  transferred  it  to  Antony,— copied 
it  pretty  closely, — or  perhaps  kept  closer  to  Plutarch's  prose.  The  poetry  he  almost 
suppresses ;  but  he  certainly  introduces  the  story  more  artfully.  Narration  for  its 
own  sake  is  not,  however,  a  frequent  fault  of  Shakespeare. 

228.  were  Loue-sicke.]  Knight  (ed.  i  and  ii)  virtually  adheres  to  the  punc- 
tuation of  the  Folio,  which  he  observes  *  is  surely  more  poetical.*  Dyce  quotes  the 
observation,  prints  it  in  Italics,  and  afiixes  two  exclamation  marks ;  a  cheap  mode 
of  expressing  a  patronizing  superiority.  In  Knight's  Second  Edition,  Revised,  the 
Folio  is  abandoned  and  Capell  followed. — Ed. 

234.  cloth  of  Gold,  of  Tissue]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  This  is  nonsense;  it  could 
not  be  '  cloth  of  gold '  if  it  were  *  of  tissue.'  What  was  meant  must  have  been  that 
the  *  cloth  of  gold  *  of  the  pavilion  was  lined  with  *  tissue. '  The  contraction  for  *  and ' 
was  not  unfrequently  read  of  by  old  printers,  and  such,  according  to  the  MS,  seems 
to  have  been  the  case  here. — Staunton  :  That  is,  cloth-of-gold  on  a  ground  of  tissue. 
The  expression  so  repeatedly  occurs  in  early  English  books  that  we  cannot  imagine 
how  anyone  familiar  with  such  reading  can  have  missed  it. — [Staunton  here  quotes 
Collier's  note,  which,  he  says,  is  made  *•  with  incredible  simplicity.'  Collier  in  his 
Third  Edition  abandoned  andy  the  reading  of  hb  MS.] 

235.  that  Venns]  Theobald  suggests  that  there  is  here  a  reference  to  the  cele- 


ACT  II,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 


III 


The  fancie  out-worke  Nature.     On  each  fide  her, 
Stood  pretty  Dimpled  Boyes,  like  fmiling  Cupids, 
^With  diuers  coulour^d  Fannes  whofe  winde  did  feeme, 
To  gloue  the  delicate  cheekes  which  they  did  coole, 
^nd  what  they  vndid  did. 

Agrip'     Oh  rare  for  Ant/iony. 
Eno.     Her  Gentlewoman,  like  the  Nereides, 
So  many  Mer-maides  tended  her  i'th'eyes, 
-And  made  their  bends  adornings.     At  the  Helme. 


236 


240 


244 


238.  diuers  cotdout'd^  Ff.  divers- 
'Co/cur'dRowej  -j-  ,Varr.  Ran.  Knt,  Dyce, 
OIo.  Cam.    divene-colour' d  Cap.  et  cet. 

^39*  gloue\gl<we  Ff.  glow  Rowe  et  seq. 

240.  vndid did'\  undid,  did Thtoh,  et 
seq.  (subs.) 

242.  Geniletuoman'\  Genilewomen  Ff. 
Nereides]  Nereids  Pope.  Nereids, 
«r  Han. 


243.  Mer-maides]  F,,  Rowe  iu  Mere- 
maids  F  F^,  Rowe  i.  mermaids  Pope. 

Vth^eyes]  Ff,  Rowe, +,  Dyce  ii, 
iii,  Wh.  Vth^guise  Mason,  Sing. 
iUh^dais  Gould.    »*  the  eyes  Cap.  et  cet 

244.  made.., adornings.]  made  their 
Bends  adornings.  Theob.  made.-.ador- 
ings.  Han.  Warb.  Johns. 

bends]  bands,  ribands  Gould. 


brated  Venus  Anadyomene  of  Apelles  which  was  painted  from  Campaspe  as  a  model, 
whereof  an  account  is  given  in  Pliny's  Natural  History,  Book  xxxv,  chap.  10.  If 
Shakespeare  had  any  particular  Venus  in  mind,  Theobald  is  possibly  right.  War- 
VURTON,  for  no  reason,  that  I  can  see,  other  than  jealousy  of  Theobald,  asserts  that  it 
was  the  Venus  of  Protogenes  and  gives  the  reference  to  Pliny  which  Theobald  did  not 
give.  Warburton's  assertion,  but  not  Theobald's  suggestion,  is  repeated  in  the  Vario- 
rum of  182 1,  and  has  been  ever  since,  by  those  who  have  mentioned  it  at  all,  accepted 
as  his  own.  Yet,  had  his  reference  been  verified,  it  would  have  been  found  that 
while  the  Venus  Anadyomene  by  Apelles  is  there  twice  described,  there  is  not  a  word 
said  of  any  Venus  by  Protogenes. — Ed. 

240.  what  they  vndid  did]  Johnson  :  It  might  be  read  less  harshly :  <  what 
they  did,  undid.' — M alone  :  The  wind  of  the  fans  seemed  to  give  a  new  colour  to 
Geopatra's  cheeks,  which  they  were  employed  to  cool;  and  '  what  they  undid,'  i.  e. 
that  warmth  which  they  were  intended  to  diminish  or  allay,  (hey  did,  1.  e.,  they  seemed 
to  produce. — Staunton  :  We  should  prefer,  'what  they  undyd,  dyd,*  that  is,  while 
diminishing  the  colour  of  Cleopatra's  cheeks,  by  cooling  them,  they  reflected  a  new 
glow  from  the  warmth  of  their  own  tints. 

242.  Nereides]  Dyce  (ed.  ii) :  Here  in  my  first  edition  I  altered  *  Nereides'  to 
Nereids, — wrongly ;  for  formerly  the  word  used  to  be  written  Nereides ;  see,  for 
instance,  the  article  *  Nereides'  in  Heywood's  Various  Historie  conceminge  Women, 
etc,  p.  36,  ed.  1624. 

243.  Mer-maides]  Coleridge  (p.  317)  :  I  have  the  greatest  difficulty  in  believ- 
ing that  Shakespeare  wrote  the  first  '  mermaids.'  He  never,  I  think,  would  have  so 
weakened  by  useless  anticipation  the  fine  image  immediately  following.  The  epithet 
'seeming'  becomes  so  extremely  improper  after  the  whole  number  had  been  posi- 
tively called  '  so  many  mermaids.' 

243,  244.  So  many  Mer-maides  tended  her  i'th'eyes.  And  made  their  bends 
adornings]  Warburton  :  This  is  sense  indeed,  and  may  be  understood  thus,  her 


112  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  ii. 

[243,  244.  tended  her  i'tb'eyes,  And  made  their  bends  adomings] 
maids  bowed  with  so  good  an  air,  that  it  added  new  graces  to  them.  But  this  is  not 
what  Shakespeare  would  say ;  Cleopatra^  in  this  famous  scene,  personated  Vemus  just 
rising  from  the  waves ;  at  which  time,  the  mythologists  tell  us,  the  Sea-deities  sur- 
rounded the  goddess  to  adore^  and  pay  her  hofiiage.  Agreeably  to  this  fable  Qeo- 
patra  had  dressed  her  maids,  the  poet  tells  us,  like  Nereids.  To  make  the  whole 
conformable  to  the  story  represented,  we  may  be  assured  Shakspeare  wrote :  *  And 
made  their  bends  adoriftgs,^  They  did  her  observance  in  the  posture  of  adoraiicn^ 
as  if  she  had  been  Venus. — Heath  (p.  455)  :  I  very  much  doubt  whether  such  an 
affected  flat  expression  as  adorings  came  from  Shakespeare.  The  word,  bend^  is  here 
used  for  aa  arch,  and  the  bends  of  the  eyes  are  the  eye-brows.  Thus  the  sense  will 
be.  That  these  seeming  nereids  were  employedin  adjusting  Cleopatra's  ejre-brows, 
as  often  as  they  happened  to  be  discomposed  byUie  fanning  of  tfie  bojrs,  or  any  other 
accident.  This  interpretation  is  confirmed  by  the  preceding  words,  tended  her  in  the 
eyes. — [The  student  is  entreated  not  to  condemn  Heath  utterly  on  account  of  this 
one  aberration  of  mind  ;  he  is  usually  eminently  sane. — Ed.] — Capbll  (i,  33) :  That 
is,  watch' d  her  looks,  to  receive  commandments  from  them:  in  the  receiving  of 
which,  the  submiss  inclination  of  body  was  performed  with  so  much  elegance,  that 
their  other  personal  beauties  were  much  set  out  by  it.  This  is  the  obvious  meaning 
of  <  made  their  bends  adomings.' — Johnson  :  Perhaps  <  tended  her  by  th*  eyes,'  dis- 
covered her  will  by  her  eyes. — Steevens  (  Var.  1773)  :  That  Qeopatra  personated 
Venus  we  know;  but  that  Shakespeare  was  acquainted  with  the  circumstance  of 
homage  being  paid  her  by  the  Deities  of  the  Sea  [as  stated  by  Warburton],  is  by  no 
means  as  certain. — Tollet  :  I  think  <  bends '  or  bands  is  the  same  word,  and 
means,  in  this  place,  the  several  companies  of  Nereids,  that  waited  on  Qeopatra. — 
[Although  I  have  no  idea  at  what  age  Toilet  died,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  did 
not  live  long  enough  to  withdraw  this  conjecture. — Ed.] — Malons  in  the  Var.  of 
1778  apprehended  that  'their  bends'  refers  to  Cleopatra's  eyes,  and  that  <her 
attendants  watched  the  motion  of  her  eyes,  the  bends  or  movements  of  which  added 
new  lustre  to  her  beauty.'  But  he  withdrew  this  interpretation  in  his  edition  of 
1790,  and  gave  in  his  adhesion  to  Warburton' s  adorings.  And  in  the  Var.  of  1821, 
he  conceded  that  *  tended  her  i'the  eyes '  *  may  only  mean  they  performed  their 
duty  in  the  sight  of  their  mistress.' — Steevens  (Var,  1793):  Perhaps  *  tended 
her  i'the  eyes '  may  signify  that  the  attendants  on  Cleopatra  looked  observantly  into 
her  eyes,  to  catch  her  meaning,  without  giving  her  the  trouble  of  verbal  explana- 
tion. After  all,  I  believe  it  only  means  waited  before  her,  in  her  sight.  So,  in  Ham- 
lety  IV,  iv,  5  :  « If  that  his  majesty  would  aught  of  us.  We  shall  express  our  duty 
in  his  eye,'  f.  e.  in  our  personal  attendance  on  him,  by  giving  him  ocular  proof  of 
our  respect.  Henley  explains  it  thus :  '  obeyed  her  looks  without  waiting  for  her 
words.' — MoNCK  Mason  :  The  passage,  as  it  stands,  appears  to  me  wholly  unin- 
telhgible ;  but  it  may  be  amended  by  a  very  slight  deviation  from  the  text,  by  read- 
ing, theguisey  instead  of*  the  eyes,'  and  then  it  will  run  thus  :  *  Her  gentlewomen,  like 
the  Nereides,  So  many  mermaids,  tended  her  i*  the  guise^  And  made  their  bends, 
adomings.'  *  In  the  guise,'  means  in  the  form  of  mermaids,  who  were  suf^xMed  to 
have  the  head  and  body  of  a  beautiful  woman,  concluding  in  a  fish's  tail:  and  by 
the  bends  which  they  made  adorningSy  Enobarbus  means  the  flexure  of  the  fictitious 
fishes'  tails,  in  which  the  limbs  of  the  women  were  necessarily  involved,  in  order  to 
carry  on  the  deception,  and  which  it  seems  they  adapted  with  so  much  art  as  to  make 
them  an  ornament,  instead  of  a  deformity.     This  conjecture  is  supported  by  the  very 


Acrn,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  113 

[245,  244.  tended  her  i'th'eyes.  And  made  their  bends  adomings] 
next  sentence,  where  Enoborbus,  proceeding  in  his  description,  says:  *at  the  helm 
A  <F^ffmmg  mennsid  steers/ — [This  note  of  Mason  with  its  harmless  allusion  to  the 

*  flexure  of  the  fictitious  tails/  afforded  Stkevens  too  good  an  opportunity  to  be 
loeL  Accoidingly,  after  observing  that  Mason's  conjecture,  guise^  could  not  be  thus 
naed  absolutely,  without  a  limiting  noun,  he  turns  to  the  mermaids,  who,  *  whatCTer 
gnoe  the  tails  of  legitimate  meimaids  might  boast  of  in  their  native  element,  must 
lurre  produced  but  awkward  effects  when  taken  out  of  it,  and  exhibited  on  the  deck 
of  a  gslley.  ...  I  will  undertake,  in  short,  the  expense  of  providing  characteristic 
tnfls  for  any  set  of  mimick  Nereids,  if  my  opponent  will  engage  to  teach  them  the 
exercise  of  these  adscititious  terminations,  so  as  **  to  render  them  a  grace  instead  of  a 
deformity."  ...  It  may  be  added  also,  that  the  Sirens  and  descendants  of  Nereus, 
are  nnderstood  to  have  been  complete  and  beautiful  women,  whose  breed  was 
vncrossed  by  the  salmon  or  dolphin  tribe.'  Finally,  with  the  malicious  smile  still 
on  his  face,  Steevens  proposed  to  amend  the  phrase  <  merely  by  the  omission  of  a 
sii^e  letter,  and  read  **  made  their  ends  adomings."  '  Mason  replied  very  temper- 
ately, like  the  Right  Honourable  gentleman  that  he  was,  in  an  Appendix  to  his  Com- 
wments  on  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  maintaining  his  ground  and  concluding  with  the 
assertion  that  he  could  *  find  no  sense  in  the  passage  as '  Steevens  and  Malone  '  have 
printed  it'  The  forgoing  notes  which  I  have  condensed  are  'so  very  long,  as 
or^inally  written,'  that  in  the  Variorum  of  1821  Boswell  transferred  them  '  to  the 
end  of  the  play ' ;  there  the  student  may  read  them  at  length ;  but,  as  in  all  such 
controversies,  he  will  find  but  a  ha'porth  of  Shakespeare  to  an  intolerable  deal  of 
the  disputants. — Ed.]  Z.  Jackson,  whose  insufferable  book  was  many  years  ago 
iMlhned  from  these  psges,  must  now  be  heard,  inasmuch  as  his  contribution  to  the 
discussion  happens  to  be  of  value.  He  believes  (p.  293)  that  <  bends '  is  here  used  in 
a  nautical  sense  (the  '  bends  *  are,  according  to  Admiral  Smyth's  Sailor's  Word" 
Mook^  *the  thickest  and  strongest  planks  on  the  outward  part  of  the  ship's  side, 
between  the  plank-streaks  on  which  men  set  their  feet  in  climbing  up ')  ;  the '  eyes ' 
also  is  nautical  and  means  the  *■  dead  eyes '  (a  dead-eye,  also  according  to  Admiral 
Smyth,  is  <  a  sort  of  round  flattish  wooden  block,  .  .  .  pierced  with  three  holes 
through  the  flat  part,  in  order  to  receive  a  rope  called  a  laniard,  which,  correspond- 
ing with  three  holes  in  another  dead-eye  on  the  shroud  end,  creates  a  purchase 
to  extend  the  shrouds,  etc' )  ;  'on  the  bends  of  Cleopatra's  barge,  therefore,  stood 
her  gendewomen,  uncovered  to  the  waist,'  with  an  artificial  mermaid's  tail  floating 
on  the  water.  Thus  Qeopatra's  attendants,  <as  so  many  mermaids,  tended  her 
i'the  eyes  (for  there  they  held  by  the  rigging,  connected  with  the  eyes\  and  made  the 
bends  (whereon  they  stood)  adomings,  i.  e.  they  adorned  the  bends,  which  other- 
wise would  have  remained  devoid  of  ornaments.'  Accordingly,  Jackson  proposed 
to  read : — '  And  made  the  bends  adomings.'  [Jackson  is  undoubtedly  the  earliest  to 
apply  a  nautical  interpretation  to  'bends'  and  'eyes,' — an  interpretation  to  which 
the  most  recent  criticism  seems  to  be  drifting.  Unfortunately  Jackson  restricted  *  eyes* 
to  the  'dead  eyes.'] — Knight:  We  hold  to  the  'adomings*  of  the  original. — 
CoLLiXK:  'Tended  her  i'the  eyes'  seems  to  mean  nothing  else  but  tended  in  her 
sight:  Mr  Barron  Field  traly  remarks,  that  in  Mid.  N,  D.,  we  have  the  expression 

*  gambol  in  his  eyes,*  for  gambol  in  his  sight ;  *  made  their  bends  adomings '  is  prob- 
ably to  be  understood,  that  they  bowed  with  so  much  grace  as  to  add  to  their  beauty. 
— [2^hary  Jackson  believed,  as  we  have  seen,  that  *  th' eyes'  refers  to  'dead  eyes,' 
for  the  nautical  use  of  which  term  there  is  good  authority ;   in  the  following  note 

8 


114  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  u,  sc.  ii 


[243,  244.  tended  her  i'tb'eyes,  And  made  their  bends  adomings] 
'  th'eyes '  is  supposed  to  refer  to  the  hawse-holes, — a  use  for  which,  in  Shakespeare's 
time,  authority  is  thus  far  lacking.  The  note  is  much  condensed  and  paraphrased, 
as  indeed  all  the  notes  on  this  vexed  question  are,  of  necessity.] — C.  F.  B.  (/W- 
naw^s  Maga.,  March,  1857)  :  In  Webster's  Diet,  under  the  article  *  Eye'  there  will 
be  found  a  phrase  <  the  eyes  of  a  ship,'  with  the  definition  that  they  are  <  the  parts 
which  lie  near  the  hawse-holes.'  ['  The  foremost  part  of  the  bows  of  a  ship, 
where  formerly  eyes  were  painted;  also  the  hawse  holes.' — Webster,  Diet,  1S91.] 
It  is  a  phrase  in  common  use,  at  present,  among  mariners,  when  speaking  of 
the  interior  bows  of  a  vessel.  Bearing  in  mind  the  for^[oing  definition,  and  also 
that  'tended'  may  be  an  abbreviation  of  attended^  I  think  we  shall  find  no 
difficulty  in  reading  the  passage  as  it  now  stands.  If  we  follow  Enobarbus's 
sketch  we  shall  find  that  the  size  and  interior  arrangements  of  the  barge  were  such 
as  to  allow  no  other  space  for  <  her  gentlewomen '  to  occupy,  and  that  they  must 
be  stationed  in  the  bows.  The  pavilion  was  too  small  and  the  air  too  warm  to 
admit  any  more  than  the  *  dimpled  boys '  on  each  side  of  Cleopatra  and  they  were 
endeavouring  to  keep  its  fair  owner  cool.  There  can  be  no  space  for  the  majority 
of  the  gentlewomen  near  the  pavilion,  while,  stationed  in  the  bows,  or  eyes  of  the 
barge,  their  various  and  ever-changing  attitudes  and  movements  (either  while  wait- 
ing on  Qeopatra's  commands  or  when  gazing  on  the  crowd  that  lined  the  shore) 
added  to  and  improved  the  general  effect  of  the  scene,  or  <  made  their  bends  adom- 
ings.' -^Walker  {^Crii.  iii,  299)  :  Undoubtedly,  adorings  is  the  true  reading.  In 
the  play  of  Dr.  Dodypol  [I,  i,  p.  loi,  ed.  Bullen]  the  same  erratum  occurs, — 'And 
devout  people  would  from  farre  repaire.  Like  Pilgrims,  with  their  dutuous  sacrifice. 
Adorning  thee  as  Regent  of  their  loves.'  Undoubtedly,  adoring;  and  so  correct  in 
Spenser,  Virgil's  Gnat^ — *  Wherefore  ye  Sisters  which  the  glorie  bee  Of  the  Pierian 
streames,  fayre  Naiades,  Go  too,  and  dauncing  all  in  companie,  Adome  that  God.' 
[11.  25-28,  ed.  Grosart]  Original,  v.  18, — *  ite,  sorores,  Naldes,  et  celebrate  deum 
plaudente  chorea.' — Dyce  (ed.  ii),  who  cites,  but  does  not  quote,  this  note  of 
Walker,  pronounces  adoring  *a  more  than  plausible  emendation.' — R.  G.  White: 
<  In  the  eye '  was  a  universally  recognized  idiom  for  in  the  presence,  before  the 
face,  and  was  particularly  used  to  express  service  before  a  superior.  Thus,  Cym- 
beline^  III,  v,  142,  'first  kill  him,  and  in  her  eyes;  there  shall  she  see  my 
valour.' — [White's  text  reads  '  adomings,'  but  his  note  implies  that  he  had  adopted 
adorings.  He  asks,  <  is  it  not  clear  that  we  have  here  an  instance  of  the  super- 
fluous j  final,  and  that  "adoring"  is  not  a  substantive,  but  a  participle?'  In  his 
Second  Edition,  1883,  he  still  follows  the  Folio,  and  pronounces  the  phrase,  *  incom- 
prehensible ; '  and  adds,  *  no  acceptable  explanation  or  correction  has  been  proposed.'] 
— Staunton  :  By  adopting  [Warburton's]  likely  substitution,  and  supposing  tlie  not 
improbable  transposition  of  *  eyes '  and  *  bends,'  we  may  at  least  obtain  a  meaning : 
— *  tended  her  in  the  bends.  And  made  their  eyes  adorings.'  It  may  count  for  some- 
thing, though  not  much,  in  favour  of  the  transposition  we  assume,  that  in  Pericles^ 
II,  iv,  we  find,— 'That  all  those  eyes  adored  him.'— John  Hunter:  That  is. 
Attended  on  her  with  their  eyes ;  and  by  their  gaze  directed  towards  her  formed 
ornamental  appendages  to  the  main  figure.  Compare  Psalms,  cxxiii,  2 :  *As  the 
eyes  of  a  maiden  look  unto  the  hand  of  her  mistress,  so  our  eyes  wait,'  etc. — Schmidt 
(7>fl«j.,  note,  p.  174)  :  In  the  only  other  passage  in  Shakespeare  where  *bcnd' 
occurs  as  a  substantive,  it  refers,  not  to  a  bending  or  bowing,  but  to  the  eyes,  *  that 
same  eye  whose  bend  doth  awe  the  world.'— y«/.  Cas,,  I,  ii,  123.  .  .  .  'Their*  in 


ACT  II,  sc.  ii.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  \  15 

[243,  244.  tended  her  i'th'eyes,  And  made  their  bends  adomings] 
present  passage  refers  to  *  eyes '  in  the  preceding  line,  and  the  literal  translation 
:  *  sie  erwiesen  ihr  in  (oder  mit)  den  Augen  Huldigung,  und  machten  deren 
(oder  Ansdmck)  zu  einem  Schmuck.*     In  his  Lexicon  (5,  v,  Adomings) 
Sdimidt  paiaphrases  the  sentence  thus : — *  regarded  her  with  such  veneration  as  to 
zxflecrt  beauty  on  her,  to  make  her  more  beautiful,  by  their  looks.' — C.  M.  Ingleby 
^Sk.  Hermeneutics^  etc  1875,  p.  119,  footnote)  :  We  read,  after  Zachary  Jackson, 
^tke  bends*  adomings.'     [Z.  J.  wrote  bends  without  an  apostrophe.]     Both  'eyes' 
.^uid  '  bends '  were  parts  of  Cleopatra's  barge.     The  eyes  of  a  ship  are  the  hawse- 
lx>les  ;  the  bends  are  the  wales,  or  thickest  planks  in  the  ship's  sides.     North  has  it : 
^  others  tending  the  tackle  and  ropes  of  the  barge  ; '  which  settles  the  question  as  to 
she  meaning  of  eyes ;  and  that  once  fixed,  the  other  part  of  the  interpretation  is 
Inevitable.     What  could  the  hardy  soldier,  Enobarbus,  care  for  the  curves  of  the 
mermaid's  bodies  ?    To  us  it  is  obvious  that  if  the  girls  tended  Geopatra  at  the  eyes, 
they  would  there  be  the  natural  ornaments  of  the  bends. — [Jackson  held  the  '  eyes ' 
of  the  barge  to  be  the  '  dead-eyes,'  for  which  he  had  authority  in  so  far  as  <  dead  mens 
eyes '  is  mentioned,  tc^ether  with  *■  pullies,  blockes,  shiuers,  caskets  and  crowes  feete,' 
in  Captain  Smith's  Accidence  for  yong  Seamen^  1626,  p.  15  ;  Ingleby  changes  these 
'eyes'  to  the  *  hawse  holes '  for  which  to  be  sure  he  has  modem  authority  in  Admiral 
Smyth's  SaiJor's  PTord-BooJk,  1867,  s.  v.  Eyes  of  her^  but  it  is  open  to  doubt  that  thik  use 
was  known  in  Shakespeare's  time.     I  can  find  no  trace  of  it  in  the  N,  E.  D.     Finally, 
how  Ingleby's  quotation  from  North  <  settles  the  question  as  to  the  meaning  of  eyes ' 
is,  I  fear  to  me,  incomprehensible. — Ed.] — F.  J.  Furnivall  (N,  6f*  Qu.  1875,  V,  iv, 
103)  quotes  North's  words,  'others  tending  the  tackle  and  ropes  of  the  barge,'  and 
then  continues: — I  think  that  Shakespeare's  repetition  of  North's  tend  strengthens 
the  position  of  those  who  urge  that  the  eyes  were  the  eyes  of  the  barge, — the  bows ; 
near  the  hawseholes  or  eyes,  through  which  the  anchor  chains  passed, — and  not 
Geopatra's  eyes ;  while  on  the  other  hand,  North's  allusion  to  the  Graces  makes  it 
certain  that  *  their  bends '  is  the  curves  of  the  ladies'  bodies,  and  not  the  bends  or 
prominent  streaks, — qy.  including  the  gunwale, — of  the  boat,  as  has  been  suggested 
with  the  reading  *  the  bend's.'  ...  To  the  meaning  generally  given  to  'tended  her 
i'the  eyes,'  'attended  to  the  movements  of  her  eyes,  watched  her  eyes  for  orders,'  1 
do  not  take. — E.  H.  Pickersgill  {N.  6r*  Qu.  1875,  V,  iv,  365 )  :  Plutarch  speaks 
.  of  '  tending  the  tackle,'  but,  according  to  Shakespeare,  the  gentlewomen,  who  are 
first  mentioned  *  tended  her '  (Cleopatra)  1.  e.  were  in  waiting  upon  her.  ...  *  Tended 
her  i'the  eyes'  is  equivalent  (I  take  it)  to  tended  her  with  their  eyes,  gave  her  (in  a 
sense  different  from  that  in  which  the  term  is  usually  employed)  eye-service.     Com- 
pare Hamlet^  IV,  iii,  4,  *  the  distracted  multitude.  Who  like  not  in  their  judgement, 
but  their  eyes,' — that  is,  like  in  their  eyes.     If  one  may  be  said  to  like  in  eyes,  why 
not  also  tend  in  eyes?     I   presume  that   Mr  Furnivall   has  found  contemporary 
authority  for  the  use  of  the  word  *  eyes '  in  the  sense  of  the  bows  of  a  ship,  although 
he  has  not  produced  any  reference. — J.  E.  Smith  (A^.  6r»  Qti,  1890,  Vll,  x,  402)  : 
The  suggestion  now  made  is  that  'tended  her  i'the  eyes'  should  be  bended  to  the 
oars.     This  change  would  make  clear  the  meaning,  mend  the  measure  [is  it  defec- 
tive?— Ed.],  and  complete  the  description.     We  now  see  the  Nereides  rowing, 
steering,  and  sailing  the  barge,  instead  of  'tending  Cleopatra  i'th'eyes,'  an  inscrut- 
able function  not  to  be  found  in  Plutarch.  .  .  .  Oars  is  spelt  differently  on  each  of 
the  three  occasions  when  it  occurs  in  the  Folio :  *  oares,'  in   Two  Gent.  II,  iii ; 
'ores,'  Much  Ado^  III,  i ;  and  '  Owers  *  in  line  229  of  the  present  speech.     Now  if 


Il6  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  iL 


[243,  244.  tended  her  i'th'eyes,  And  made  their  bends 
in  the  MS  it  were  indistinct,  or  had  been  subjected  to  any  other  orthographical  rari- 
ation,  or  spelt  as  in  Much  Ado^  what  more  likely  than  that  the  printen,  at  their  wits' 
end,  should  set  it  up  as  <  eyes '  ?  Then  *  tended '  would  be  a  very  probable  iwtjrf«lr^ 
for  bended, — [This  ingenious  but  extremely  violent  emendation  deeply  stirred  the 
contributors  to  Notes  and  Queries,  R.  M.  Spence  (1890,  VII,  z,  483)  termed  the 
supposition  that  the  female  attendants  rowed  the  heavy  silver  oais,  *  preposterous.' 
T.  A.  Trollope  (1891,  VII,  zi,  82)  came  to  the  rescue,  declaring  that  he  considered 
the  emendation  'peculiarly  and  strikingly  happy,'  and  furthermore  'humbly  sub- 
mitted '  that  '  tended  her  i*the  eyes '  is  '  sheer  nonsense.'  In  the  same  volume  (p. 
182)  H.  INGLEBY,  Br.  Nicholson,  and  R.  M.  Spence,  all  horrorstruck  at  the  stigma 
of  <  sheer  nonsense,'  pleaded  for  the  original  text,  with  here  and  there  a  withering 
sneer  at  the  proposed  emendation.  On  p.  363,  Trollope  replied  in  a  long  com- 
munication (adhering  inflexibly  to  his  original  opinion),  written  so  brilliantly  through- 
out and  with  such  good-humoured  benignity  that  his  opponents  must  have  been 
glad,  I  should  think,  that  they  had  been  the  means  of  eliciting  it  Of  course  their 
own  opinions  were  not  a  whit  changed  by  it.  He  who  can  acknowledge  that  he  is 
convicted  of  an  error  is  unfit  to  enter  into  a  discussion ;  e'en  though  vanquished  he 
must  argue  still.  And  so,  in  vol.  xii  (of  the  same  Series),  p.  62,  H.  Ingleby  rejoined  ; 
J.  E.  Smith,  the  fans  et  origo  of  the  discussion,  unrepentant,  reinforced  his  original 
position ;  G.  Joicey  asked  whether  the  line  would  not  have  run  either  '  tended  in 
her  eyes,'  or  *  tended  her  z&t*  their  eyes,'  if  Titania's  *  gambol  in  his  eyes'  is  to  be 
taken  as  a  parallel  phrase  (as  had  been  alleged  by  Spence  and  earlier  by  Barron 
Field) ;  and  C.  C.  B.  suggested  ^tended  an  her  eyes.*  On  p.  202  (of  the  same 
volume),  we  have  Trollope  again  master  of  fence  and,  apparently,  of  the  situ- 
ation ;  and  Br.  Nicholson  and  Spence,  and  W.  F.  Prideaux  joins  in.  Finally, 
on  p.  261,  Trollope  *  feels  obliged  to  write  yet  a  few  words  (my  last  on  this  sub- 
ject) ;'  G.  Joicey  suggests  'tend  her  in  her  eyes  And  mahe  their  bends  adom- 
ings; '  H.  Ingleby  suggests  that  <  bends '  '  may  be  the  equivalent  in  nautical  phrase- 
ology, to  hnots ; '  C.  £.  Seaman  asks  whether  there  might  not  lie  in  this  descrip- 
tion some  allusion  to  the  heightened  efiect  of  Cleopatra's  eyes  by  the  use  of  stibium 
or  antimony.  *  By  this  the  eyes'  bends  (f.  e,  either  the  curves  of  the  eyelids,  or 
every  motion  to  which  her  eyes  were  **bent")  had  been  made  adomings.'  The 
Editor  of  Nates  and  Queries  here  threw  down  his  warder  with  the  remark  that 
'  he  ventured  to  think  this  passage  has  received  a  full  share  of  attention,'  whereto  I 
think  every  one  will  agree.  The  discussion  had  lasted  from  the  22nd  of  November, 
1890  to  the  3rd  of  October,  1891  and  I  think  every  one  of  the  disputants  would  have 
been  supposed  upon  a  book  that  he  ended  precisely  where  he  began.  During  its 
course,  however,  but  not  in  connection  with  it,  W.  W.  Lloyd  (Ibid.  VII,  xii,  4)  pro- 
posed the  emendation  "tended  her  i'the  eyes,  And  marked  their  bends,  adoring.' 
The  discussion  had  a  brief  recrudescence  in  1902,  when  N.  H.  Prenter  (IX,  ix, 
222)  revived  the  idea  that  the  'eyes'  were  the  hawseholes,  the  'bends'  were  the 
sailors'  inots^  etc.  On  p.  342  of  the  same  volume,  J.  Marshall  argued  that  the 
*  eyes '  were  sailors'  loops,  etc.  In  the  meantime,  while  this  discussion  was  going  on, 
Deighton  gave  his  paraphrase  of  the  original  text : — <  the  mermaids  waited  upon 
her,  ever  observant  of  her  wishes  as  shown  by  her  looks,  and  lent  fresh  beauty  to 
the  picture  by  the  grace  with  which  they  paid  their  homage.'  H.LiTTLEDALE,in 
his  admirable  edition  of  Dyce's  Glossary,  gives,  as  a  definition  of  *  bends'  in  the 
present  passage, '  glances  ;  their  eyes  turned  towards  her,  and  by  their  bright  glances 


ACT  II,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  117 

A  feeming  Mer-maide  fteeres  /  The  Silken  Tackle,  245 

Swell  with  the  touches  of  thofe  Flower-foft  hands, 

That  yarely  frame  the  office.From  the  Barge 

A  ilrange  inuifible  perfume  hits  the  fenfe  248 

245.  Tatkle\    Tackles  Yi^  Rowe,+,  247.  yVajn^]  j^n/^  Gould. 

Vftrr.  Ran.  the  office'\  their  office  Ktly  conj. 

246.  SwelTl  Smeil  Coll.  ii,  iii.     nuve  248.  inuifibW]   invasibie  or  invasive 
Goald.     Senfd  Kinnear.                                Gould. 

247.  yarely\  yearly  F^F^,  Rowe  ii. 

adorned  her.'  The  latest  voice  to  b«  heard  on  the  question,  and  one  worthy  of  all  re- 
spect, is  that  of  RoLFE,  who  says,  *  The  part  of  North's  account  which  corresponds  to 
**  made  their  bends  adomings  "  seems  to  be  the  statement  that  the  gentlewomen  were 
apparelled  "  like  the  Graces,"  and  this  must  suggest  a  reference  to  grace  in  their 
moTements.  I  believe  that  in  all  that  has  been  written  on  the  passage,  no  one  has 
called  attention  to  the  very  close  paraphrase  of  North  which  Shakespeare  gives: 
*'  Her  ladies  and  gentlezuomett .  .  .  were  apparelled  Hie  the  nymphs  Nereids  (which 
are  the  mermaids  of  the  waters)  and'' — after  getting  so  far  we  have  only  to  seek 
a  parallel  for  **  like  the  Graces ; "  and  may  we  not  find  it  in  '*  made  their  bends 
adomings? " — made  their  very  obeisance,  as  they  tended her^  like  that  of  ibe  Graces 
waiting  on  Venus.'  I  doubt  that  there  is  any  corruption  in  this  passage.  A  para- 
phrase by  Rann  has  been  reserved  as  a  final  word.  To  me  it  adequately  expresses 
the  meaning  of  the  whole  phrase : — '  Her  gentlewomen  took  their  orders  from  the 
motion  of  Jiier  eyes,  which  gave  her  the  happy  opportunity  of  adding,  by  her  looks, 
new  lustre  to  her  beauty ;  and  made  their  obeisance  with  the  utmost  imaginable 
grace.' — Ed.] 

246.  Swell  with  the  touches,  etc.]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  adopts  the  change,  smelly 
of  his  MS.  In  a  note  he  asks,  *  how  was  "  the  silken  tackle  "  to  "  stueir*  t  The 
«« flower-soft  hands  "  imparted  a  perfume  to  "  the  silken  tackle,"  and  we  are  told  just 
afterwards  that  the  "  smell  "  reached  even  «*  the  adjacent  wharfs." '— R.  G.  White 
[^Sh:s  Scholar^  p.  450) :  If  Mr  Collier  must  be  literal,  does  he  not  know  that  cordage 
will  swell  with  handling  ?—Dyce  (Strictures,  etc.  p.  204)  :  Mr  Collier  ought  certainly 
to  have  accounted  for  so  remarkable  a  circumstance  [as  set  forth  in  preceding  note] 
on  physical  grounds,  and  also  to  have  shown  (what  may  be  doubted)  that,  in  Shake- 
speare's days,  the  verb  'smell '  was  ever  followed  by  the  preposition  zwM.— Thisel- 
TOM  (p.  13)  :  The  yielding  softness  of  their  hands  gives  rise  to  the  illusion  that  the 
alken  tackle  swells.— [There  is  to  me  something  peculiarly  disagreeable  in  the 
emendation  of  Collier's  MS;  the  idea  that  any  smell  results  from  a  human  touch  is 
offensive,  and  wain-ropes  cannot  hale  me  to  the  belief  that  smell  is  Shakespeare's 
word.  I  do  not  forget « Since  when  it  grows  and  smells,  I  swear.  Not  of  itself  but 
thee,'  and  I  also  do  not  forget  that  the  rosy  wreath  was  perfumed  because  *  Thou 
thereon  didst  only  breathe,'— a  very  diflFercnt  thing  from  smelling  because  it  had  been 
handled.  It  is  my  firm  belief  that  the  silken  tackle  actually  swelled  with  sheer  delight 
at  having  been  clasped  by  those  flower-soft  hands.— Ed.] 

246.  Flower-soft]  Compare  « marble-constant '  V,  ii,  291  ;  and  for  many  another 
similar  compound  see  Abbott,  §  430. 

247.  yarely  frame  the  office]  Steevens  :  That  is,  readily  and  dexterously  per- 
fcnn  the  task  they  undertake.— [See  Tempest,  I,  i,  4,  and  elsewhere  in  that  play.] 


Il8  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  u,  sc.  ii. 

Of  the  adiacent  Wharfes.     The  Citty  caft 

Her  people  out  vpon  her  :  and  Anthony  250 

Enthroned  i'th'Market-place,  did  fit  alone, 

Whifling  to'th'ayre  :  which  but  for  vacanciei 

Had  gone  to  gaze  on  Cleopater  too, 

And  made  a  gap  in  Nature. 

Agri.     Rare  Egiptian.  255 

Eno.     Vpon  her  landing,  Anthony  fent  to  her, 
Inuited  her  to  Supper  :  fhe  replyed, 
It  fhould  be  better,  he  became  her  gueft: 
Which  fhe  entreated,  our  Courteous  Anthony^  .  259 

251.  f  *M*]  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Wh.    in  the        cet. 

Stccv.  Varr.  Sing.  Ktly.     Vthe  Cap.  et  253.  Gcopater]  F^. 

ceL  259.  entreated^]  entreated,  Rowe. 

252.  tdth'^  F,.    to  th*  FjF^,  Rowe,  our]  Om.  Pope,  Han. 
+  ,   Dyce  ii,  iii,  Wh.     to  the  Cap.  ct 

249.  Wharfes]  Schmidt  (Lex.)  :  The  banks  of  a  river ;  as  in  Hamlet,  I,  t,  33 : 
<the  fat  weed  that  rots  itself  in  ease  on  Lethe  wharf.' — W.  W.  Skeat  (Academy,  6 
April,  1878)  :  The  root  of  *  wharf'  is  the  same  as  that  which  appears  in  Anglo-Saxon 
hweorfan,  to  turn,  so  that  wharf  is  rightly  spelt  with  initial  wh.  But  the  word  wharf, 
in  the  sense  of  bank  or  sea-shore,  is  misspelt.  It  should  rather  be  warf  and  eren 
then  it  is  a  corruption — viz.  of  the  Middle  English  warth.  The  derivation  is  from  a 
Teutonic  base  wara,  meaning  '  sea.'  Hence  was  formed  Anglo-Saxon  wteroth  or 
warth,  meaning  « sea-shore,*  or  *  shore,'  *bank.' 

254.  And  made  a  gap  in  Nature]  Warburton  :  Alluding  to  an  axiom  in  the 
peripatetic  philosophy,  then  in  vogue,  that  'Nature  abhors  a  vacuum.' — M alone: 
*  But  for  vacancy '  means  for  fear  of  a  vacuum. — Corson  {Introd.  etc.  p.  265) :  What 
is  chiefly  remarkable,  are  the  additions  which  Shakespeare  makes  to  his  prose  original ; 
his  imagination  projects  itself  into  inanimate  things  and  impassions  them.  For  ex- 
ample, the  winds  are  represented  as  lovesick  with  the  perfumes  from  the  sails  ;  the 
water  beat  by  silver  oars,  follows  faster,  as  if  amorous  of  their  strokes ;  the  silken 
tackle  swell  with  the  touches  of  the  flower-soft  hands  that  tend  them  ;  the  very  air  of 
the  city,  whose  inhabitants  had  all  gone  out  tP  gaze  on  Cleopatra,  is  represented  as 
eager  to  go  and  gaze  upon  her  too,  but  that  it  feared  to  make  a  gap  in  nature !  In 
such  a  highly-colored  and  richly-sensuous  passage,  the  great  artist  creates  the  atmos- 
phere in  which  the  passion-fated  pair  are  exhibited. 

257.  Supper]  ♦  With  vs  the  nobilitie,  gentrie,  and  students,  doo  ordinarilie  go  to 
dinner  at  eleuen  before  noone,  and  to  supper  at  fiue,  or  betueene  fine  and  six  at 
aftemoone.  The  merchants  dine  and  sup  seldome  before  twelue  at  noone,  and 
six  at  night  especialie  in  London.  ...  As  for  the  poorest  sort  they  generallie 
dine  and  sup  when  they  may.' — Harrison,  Description  of  England,  etc.  1587; 
prefixed  to  Holinshed's  Chronicles,  Bk.  II,  cap.  vi.  p.  171  (p.  166,  New  Sh,  Sac. 
Reprint). 

258.  It  should  be  better]  For  this  use  of  <  should,'  see  Abbott,  {  326. 


J%.CT  II,  sc.  iL]       ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  119 

A?Vliom  nere  the  word  of  no  woman  hard  fpeake,  260 

Seing  barber'd  ten  times  o're,  goes  to  the  Feaft ; 

-And  for  his  ordinary,  paies  his  heart, 

Tor  what  his  eyes  eate  onely. 
Agri.     Royall  Wench  : 

She  made  great  Ccefar  lay  his  Sword  to  bed,  265 

He  ploughed  her,  and  fhe  cropt. 

Eno.     I  faw  her  once 
Hop  forty  Paces  through  the  publicke  ftreete, 
JVnd  hauing  loft  her  breath,  ftie  fpoke,  and  panted. 
That  fhe  did  make  defefl:,perfe£lion,  270 

And  breathleffe  powre  breath  forth. 

260.  ofno\  o/no,  Rowe.   of  No  Pope.  Theob.  et  seq. 

^No  Theob.  etseq.  (subs.)    — /i^Cap.  271.  breathleffe    powre"]     breathless ^ 

conj.  power  Han.  Cap.  et  seq. 

hard]  heard  Ff.  breath]    breathe   F^F^,  Pope  et 

7.(&,  Jlreete,]   street »   Rowe.      street;  seq. 

260.  woman  hard  speake]  <  Hard '  is  here  probably  a  phonetic  spelling  of  the 
compositors.  Possibly  this  pronunciation  of  heard  may  still  exist  in  New  England. 
It  was  common  enough  fifty  years  ago. — Ed. 

262.  ordinary]  Nares  :  A  public  dinner,  where  each  person  pays  his  share.  The 
word,  in  this  sense,  is  certainly  not  obsolete;  but  it  is  here  [i.  e.  in  Nares' s  own 
Glossary]  inserted  for  the  sake  of  observing  that  ordinaries  were  long  the  universal 
resort  of  gentlemen,  particularly  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  They  were,  as  a  modem 
writer  well  observes,  '  The  lounging-places  of  the  men  of  the  town  and  the  fantastic 
gallants  who  herded  together.  Ordinaries  were  the  exchange  for  news,  the  echoing 
places  for  all  sorts  of  town-talk ;  there  they  might  hear  of  the  last  new  play  and 
poem ;  these  resorts  were  attended  also  to  save  charges  of  housekeeping.' — Curiosities 
of  Literature,  iii,  82.  In  1608,  a  common  price  for  a  genteel  ordinary  was  two 
shillings. 

264.  Wench]  This  is  by  no  means  always  a  derogatory  term.  In  the  most 
tragic  moment  of  his  life  Othello  calls  his  dead  Desdemona  '  O  ill-starr'd  wench ! ' 
—Ed. 

271.  And  breathlesse  powre  breath  forth]  Capell  (i,  33):  'Power*  is — 
power  of  charming ;  this,  says  Enobarbus,  Cleopatra  breath'd  forth  even  by  being 
breathless ;  making  (as  he  express'd  it  before)  defects  perfections,  by  the  grace  that 
went  along  with  her  panting. — Daniel  (p.  80)  :  The  Third  and  Fourth  Folio,  for 
'breath'  have  breathe,  and  on  their  authority  (?)  the  line  has  always,  I  believe,  been 
given  thus, — '  And,  breathless,  power  breathe  forth.'  If  we  modernise  the  spelling, 
I  think  we  should  read,  what  I  believe  to  be  the  sense  of  the  First  Folio, — *  And, 
breathless,  pour  breath  forth.*  *  Powre,*  of  the  First  Folio  is  the  form  in  which  the 
verb  pour  is  frequently  there  printed ;  as,  indeed,  to  the  present  day  it  is  still  fre- 
quently pronounced. — Staunton  {Athenaum,  12  April,  1873) :  Long  before  I  read 
Daniel's  happy  conjecture,  the  true  lection  occurred  to  me  on  copying  the  passage 
from  the  history  where  this  not  very  feminine  exploit  is  narrated.     There  we  are 


I20  THE   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  ii.  sc.  n. 

Mece.     Now  Anthony^  muft  leaue  her  vtterly.  272 

Eno.     Neuer  he  will  not  / 
Age  cannot  wither  her,  nor  cuftome  ftale 

Her  infinite  variety  :  other  women  cloy  275 

The  appetites  they  feede,  but  fhe  makes  hungry, 
Where  mod  (he  fatisfies.     For  vildeft  things 
Become  themfelues  in  her,  that  the  holy  Priefts 
Bleffe  her,  when  (he  is  Riggi(h. 

Mece    If  Beauty,  Wifedome,  Modefty,can  fett  le  280 

The  heart  oi  Anthony  lOilauia  is 
A  bleffed  Lottery  to  him.  282 

272.  muft  ..,vtterly\    ScfMurate    line,  r^T .  vild€ft'\  viUft  Y ^,    wUdest^XxoBL- 
Han.  Cap.  hof. 

273.  Neuer\    Never,  F,F^.      Never;  278.  A^r,]  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Coll.  Wh.  i. 
Cap.  et  seq.  Cam.   Hal.   Sta.  Ktly.      her;   Cap.  et 

274.  ftaie^fteale  F,.  ftcal  F^F^,  Rowe.         cet. 

275.  IIer,..women']  One  line,  Steev.  281.  Anthony  .*  0<fbiaia]  Antcny^Oc- 
Var.  '03,  '13.  tavia  Rowe  et  seq. 

276.  Tkeappetiies\  th*  appetites  Steev.  Oaauia  w]  OcUvia'x  F^F^. 
Var.  *03,  '13.  282.  bleffed  Lottery]    blesi    eUiott^ry 

appetiUs\  appities  F,.  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Cap. 


told  that  the  all-conqnering,  unconquerable  Queen,  after  hopping  till  breath 
gone,  to  show  the  contrary,  began  to  sing.  It  was  evident  to  me  at  once  that  'pour 
breath  forth '  was  only  a  poetical  way  of  saying  that  she  sang ;  breath  being  some- 
timet  used  of  old  to  signify  song.  [Daniel's  felicitous  interpretation,  enforced  by 
Staunton's  illustration,  is,  it  seems  to  me,  indisputable. — Ed.] 

373.  Neuer  he  will  not :]  Dyce  (ed.  ii) :  The  Folio  has  no  point  after  <  Nerer ;  * 
but  this  does  not  read  like  a  passage  where  the  author  meant  to  use  the  double 
negative. 

a74,  275.  Age  cmnnot  wither  her,  nor  custome  stale  Her  infinite  variety] 
Stkbvens  :  Such  is  the  praise  bestowed  by  Shakspeare  on  his  heroine ;  a  praise  that 
well  deserves  the  consideration  of  our  female  readers.  Qeopatra,  as  appears  froin 
the  telrmdrachms  of  Antony,  was  no  Venus ;  and  indeed  the  majority  of  ladies  who 
most  successfully  enslaved  the  hearts  of  princes,  are  known  to  hare  been  less  remark- 
able for  personal  than  mental  attractions.  The  reign  of  insipid  beauty  is  sddom 
lasting ;  but  permanent  must  be  the  rule  of  a  woman  who  can  divcnify  the  sameness 
of  life  by  an  inezhanated  variety  of  acoomplishments.  To  *  stale  *  is  a  Terb  employed 
by  Heywood,  in  The  Irm  Age,  1632 :  *One  that  hadi  stoTd  his  courtly  tricks  at 


179^  RIgfisli]  Naeis  :  Having  the  indinatioDs  of  a  bad  woman.     Hence,  wan- 


aSi.  A  biMMd  Lolttfy  to  htm]  Wahburton  :  Methinks,  it  is  a  very  indifferent 
liifiliMiHt  m  Mccsnas  to  call  Octavia  a  *  lottery,*  as  if  she  might  turn  up  blanh,  as 
vdl  M  prove  a  /*w  to  Antony,  The  poet  wrote,  as  I  have  reformed  the  tezt, 
flwte  bcif  a»  widi  difaence  between  *k(teiy'  and  c/Znttrp^,  as  betweea 


ACT  II.  sc.  iii.]      ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  \  2 1 

Agrip.  Let  vs  go.  Good  Enobarbtis^  make  your  felfe  283 
my  gueft,  whilft  you  abide  heere. 

Eno.     Humbly  Sir  I  thanke  you.  Exeunt        285 

\Scene  III.\ 

Enter  Anthony,  Cafar,  Oilauia  betweene  them. 

Anth.     The  world,  and  my  great  office,  will 
Sometimes  deuide  me  from  your  bofome. 

Oila.    All  which  time,  before  the  Gods  my  knee  (hall 
bowe  my  ptayers  to  them  for  you.  S 

Anth.     Goodnight  Sir.     My  OSlauia 
Read  not  my  blemifhes  in  the  worlds  report  : 
I  haue  not  kept  my  fquare,  but  that  to  come 
Shall  all  be  done  byth'Rule  :  good  night  deere  Lady  : 
Good  night  Sir.  10 

283,  2S4.  Good.,.gueft'\  Separate  line,  4,  5.  AlL„you\    Lines  end.  time.,, 

Rowe  et  seq.  prayers,,, you  Rowe  et  seq. 

Scene  III.  Cap.  et  seq.  5.  my  ptayers'^  F,.   in  prayers  Rowe, 

The  Same.  A  Room  in  Caesar's  House.  +,  Cap.  Varr.  Ran. 

Cap.  9.  byth'^  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Wh.  i.    by  the 

1-48.  Om.  Gar.  Kemble.  Cap.  et  cet. 

I.  Enter...]   Enter... Attendants  be-  10.  Goodnight Sir'\YUlli9X,Wtii.* 21^ 

hind,  and  Soothsayer.  Cap.  Coll.  i,  Dyce  i,  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal. 

2,3.  Tke^.SomeiimesI  One  line,  Rowe  Ktlj.    Octa.  Good  night  Sir.  F^.    Octa. 

et  seq.  Good  nighty  Sir  F^F^,  Rowe  et  cet. 

a  present  designation  and  a  future  chance. — [Again,  the  influence  of  Warburton  on 
Capell  is  noteworthy  (see  Text,  Notes),  Fortunately  this  influence  ceased  with 
Capell.] 

Scene  III.]  In  all  editions  down  to  Capell's,  the  Scene  is  continued.  Capell  first 
made  Scene  IH.  begin  here ;  he  also  added  the  *  Soothsayer  *  to  the  list  of  those  who 
enter,  and  there  the  *  Soothsayer '  remained  until  Collier  restored  him  to  the  time  of 
entrance  which  he  has  in  the  Folio. 

4,  5.  my  knee  shall  bowe  my  ptayers]  Collier  (ed.  ii) :  '  Bow  with  prayers ' 
in  the  MS  ;  but  if  any  change  were  desirable,  it  would  rather  be,  <  my  prayers  shall 
bow  my  knee.' — [Whereby  I  fear  all  expression  of  that  love  which  prompts  first 
the  silent  kneeling,  and  then  the  supplication  of  prayer,  is  lost — Ed.] 

8,  9.  kept  my  square,  . .  .  done  byth'Rule]  Is  there  no  enthusiastic  Free  Mason 
at  hand  to  claim  Shakespeare  as  a  member  of  that  fraternity  ?  Or  is  this  lesser  grade 
included  in  the  higher  Rosicnician  brotherhood,  to  which  Gen.  Hitchcock  main- 
tains that  the  Sonnets  prove  Shakespeare  to  have  belonged  ? — Ed. 

la  Good  night  Sir]  Malone  :  These  last  words,  which  in  the  [First  Folio"]  are 
giTen  to  Antony,  the  modem  editors  [see  Text,  Notes]  have  assigned  to  Octavia.  I 
see  no  need  of  change.     He  addresses  himself  to  Caesar,  who  immediately  replies, 


122 


THE   TRACE  DIE  OF 


[act  II,  sc.  iii.      . 


Cce/ar.     Goodnight  Exit,  ii 

Enter  Soothfaier. 
Anth,     Now  firrah  :  you  do  wifli  your  felfe  in  Egypt  ? 
Sooth.     Would  I  had  neuer  come  from  thence^  nor  you 
thither.  IS 

Ant.     If  you  can,  your  reafon  ? 
Sooth.1  fee  it  in  my  motion  :haue  it  not  in  my  tongue,  17 


11.  Goodn%ght'\  Good  night  Y^.    Good- 
-night  Pope. 

Exit.]  Exeunt  Caesar  and  Octavia. 
Rowe. 

[Scene  IV.  Pope,  + . 

12.  Enter...]   Om.  Cap.  Varr.  Mai. 
Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Knt. 

13.  you  do']  do  you  F^F^,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

14.  Would... you\  As  verse,  Cap.  Varr. 
Mai.  Ran.  Steev.  Varr.   Sing.  Dyce  i, 


Glo.  KUy. 

14.  nor\  or  Han. 

15.  thither]  Come  thither !  KAj. 
17-19.  I.. .me]  Prose,  Pope,  +  .  Lines 

end,  in. ..yet, ..me  Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Ran. 
Steev.  Varr.  Sing.  Dyce  i,  Glo. 

17.  I  fee  it]  Iseet  Steev.  Var.  '03,*  13. 
motion:  ...tongue]     Yi^     Rowe. 
notion f  ..,  tongue ;  Theob.  Han.   Ktly. 
motion^ ...  tongue ;  Pope  et  cet. 


•Good  night.' — Ritson  (Curs.  Crit.  85)  :  The  first  of  these  'modern  editors*  hap- 
pens to  be  [Malone's]  old  friend  the  editor  of  the  Second  Folio  (which  he  pretends 
to  have  collated  with  so  much  care),  who  appears,  from  this  and  numberless  other 
instances,  to  have  had  a  copy  of  the  First  Folio  corrected  by  the  players  who  pub- 
lished it,  or  some  other  well-informed  person.  That  Mr  Malone  sees  *  no  need  of 
change'  is  the  strongest  possible  reason  for  believing  that  a  change  is  absolutely 
necessary.  And  so  it  certainly  is :  Antony  has  already  said  *  Good-night,  sir '  to 
Cxsar  in  the  three  first  words  of  his  speech  :  the  repetition  would  be  absurd. — [The 
reading  of  the  Second  Folio  is  probably  right,  and  certainly  plausible.  Dyce  (ed.  i) 
pronounced  *  the  repetition  natural  enough,' — ^an  assertion  which  he  did  not  repeat  in 
his  ed.  ii,  but  quoted  only  Ritson. — Ed.] 

12.  Soothsaier]  See  the  first  note  in  this  Scene. — Knight  (Supp,  Notice,  p. 
356)  :  Shakesp>eare  has  most  skilfully  introduced  the  Soothsayer,  at  the  moment  when 
Antony's  moral  weakness  appears  to  have  put  on  some  show  of  strength.  He  found 
the  incident  in  Plutarch ;  but  he  has  made  his  own  application  of  it. 

14,  15.  nor  you  thither]  M.  Mason  :  Both  the  sense  and  grammar  require  that 
we  should  read  hither,  instead  of  *  thither.*  The  Soothsayer  advises  Antony  to  hie 
back  to  Egypt,  and  for  the  same  reason  wishes  he  had  never  come  to  Rome ;  because 
when  they  were  together,  Caesar's  genius  had  the  ascendant  over  his. — [Hudson 
adopted  this  change.  The  Soothsayer  means,  '  would  I  bad  never  left  Egypt  nor 
you  gone  thither.'  It  is  merely  a  confusion  of  two  constructions.  He  says  after- 
ward, *  But  yet  hie  you  again  to  Egypt,'  which  seems  to  refer  to  this  *  thither.' — Ed.] 

17.  I  see  it  in  my  motion]  Theobald:  I  can  trace  no  sense  in  this  word, 
'motion,'  here,  unless  the  author  were  alluding  to  that  agitation  of  the  Divinity, 
which  diviners  pretend  to  when  the  fit  of  foretelling  is  upon  them ;  but  then  I  think 
verily,  he  would  have  wrote  emotion.  I  am  persuaded,  Shakespeare  meant  that  the 
Soothsayer  should  say,  he  saw  a  reason  in  his  thought  or  opinion  ;  tho'  he  gave  that 
thought  or  opinion  no  utterance.     And  notion  is  a  word  which  our  author  frequently 


ACT II,  sc.  iii.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  123 


ut  yet  hie  you  to  Egypt  againe.  18 

Aniho.     Say  to  me,  whofe  Fortunes  Ihall  rife  higher 

C€e:/ars  or  mine  ?  20 

Soot.  Ci2r/2jr/'j.Therefore(oh  Ant/tori/jfiay  not  by  his  fide 

Thy  Daemon  that  thy  fpirit  which  keepes  thee,  is 

INoble,  Couragious,  high  vnmatchable, 

^W^here  Cafars  is  not.     But  neere  him,  thy  Angell  24 

18.  to  Egypt  againe\  again  to  Egypt        Johns,  et  seq. 

Oip.  VaiT.  Stecv.  Varr.  Dyce  i.  21.  fede\  side,  Rowe.    side  :  Cap. 

19.  Say  to  me"]  Separate  line,  Dyceii.  22.  Damon]  demon  Dyce. 

Say  to  me,  whofe]  Separate  line,  that... thee j]  Johns.  Var.  '73,  Knt, 

Xtly.  Coll.  Wh.  Cam.  Hal.  Sta.  KUy.  {that's 

Fortunes]    Fortune    F^,    Rowe,  ...thee)    Ff.     that   shy... thee,    Bulloch. 

Pbpe,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  that's... thee,  Rowe,  Glo.  et  cet. 

21.  Oelars]     Separate     line,     Han.  23.  ^if ^]  ^i]f^,  F^F^  et  seq. 

chooses,  to  express  the  mental  faculties. — Warburton  condensed  the  first  portion 
of  the  foregoing  note  into  '  the  divinatory  agitation,'  and  as  he  made  no  acknowl- 
^Igement  to  Theobald,  has  received  whatever  credit  has  accrued.  Dyce  (ed.  ii) 
accepted  the  phrase  and  ascribed  it  to  Warburton. — Capell  (i,  34)  :  There  is  no 
occasion  for  supposing — that  *  motion '  implies  here  '  the  divinatory  agitation  ; '  nor 
— that  it  is  put  by  mistake  for  another  word  '  notion/  It  means — a  something  mov- 
ittg  within  me  ;  that  unknown  something  which  others  also  feel  at  some  junctures, 
who  are  not  soothsayers:  'in,'  or  by,  this  inward  'motion,'  the  speaker  saw  the 
'reason,  that  Antony  call'd  for,  but  could  not  give  it  expression. — Schmidt  (Lex.) 
defines  the  phrase  as  equivalent  to  '  intuitively.'  [In  his  capacity  as  seer  he  '  sees ' 
(thus  purposely  used,  I  think),  the  reason  in  his  mental  perturbation,  but  cannot  put 
it  into  words. — Ed.] 

22.  Thy  Daemon,  etc.]  It  verily  looks  as  though  the  editor  of  the  Second  Folio 
had  here  consulted  North,  where  the  corresponding  passage  runs  thus :  ***  For  thy 
demon,*'  said  he  (that  is  to  say  the  good  angel  and  spirit  that  keepeth  thee),  "  is 
afnid  of  his  "  '  etc.  The  Second  Folio  deserts  the  First  Folio  to  an  unwonted  degree, 
and  adopts  the  parenthesis  of  North.  This  same  predominance  of  Caesar's  demon 
over  Anthony  is  spoken  of  by  Macbeth  : — 'under  [Banquo]  My  Genius  is  rebuk'd, 
as  it  is  said,  Mark  Anthonies  was  by  Caesar.' — III,  i,  67  (of  the  Reinsed  Edition 
of  the  present  series),  where  the  Editor  has  added  a  note  by  Prof.  Baynes,  who  says, 
'  In  Shakespeare,  the  terms  angel  and  genius  [and  here,  demon]  are  usually  em< 
{doyed  to  denote  the  higher  nature  of  man,  the  rational  guiding  soul  or  spirit,  which 
in  connection  with  the  mortal  instruments  determines  his  character  and  fate.' — Ed. 

22,  32.  spirit]  As  to  pronunciation,  see  I,  ii,  143. 

23.  high  vnmatchahle]  Every  edition,  I  think,  since  the  Third  Folio  has  placed 
a  comma  after  '  high.'  Should  there  be  one  ?  I  think  there  should  be  a  hyphen. 
'  High-unmatchable '  is  a  compound  adjective,  like  '  pardon  me,  I  am  too  sudden- 
bold  '  in  Lffv^s  Lab.  Lost,  and  '  Fools  should  be  so  deep-contemplative/  in  As  You 
Like  It.  In  the  propriety  of  this  hyphen  I  have  the  support  of  an  Anonymous  con- 
jecture recorded  in  the  Cambridge  Edition. — Ed. 


124  ^^^   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  ii,  sc.  iii. 

Becomes  a  feare  :  as  being  o're-powr'd,  therefore  ^5 

Make  fpace  enough  betweene  you. 

Antlu     Speake  this  no  more. 

Sooth.     To  none  but  thee  no  more  but :  when  to  thee^ 
If  thou  doft  play  with  him  at  any  game, 
Thou  art  fure  to  loofe  :  And  of  that  Naturall  lucke,  30 

25.  Becomes. ,.oWe'Powr'd'\OTit\\ii!t^  26.  Make'\  Make  thou  1^9^, 

Han.  s8.  thee  ...more  but:  when  to  thte^ 

a  feare  r^  F,.  a  fear  :  F^F^,  Rowe,  thee...more^  but  when  to  thee^  Yl.     tkee^ 

Pope,  +  .     afeard^  Upton,  Sing.  Coll.  ii,  ...m^rr, ^/.../^r, Rowe, Pope,    thee;.., 

Ktly.     a  fear ^  Cap.  et  cet.  more^  but.  ..thee.  Theob.  et  scq.  (subs.) 

o're-powr'dt'\o're-p(ntn'd,andYU  30.   Thou  art^  7)&Mi*ff  Pope,  + ,  Wh. 

Rowe,  Pope,  Tbeob. Warb.  overpower' d;  i,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

And  Han.     overpowered^  Johns,     o'er-  loofe"]  iofe  F  F^. 

power* d;  and  Cap.     overpowered;  Var.  And'\  h^s  Han. 
'73  et  cet. 

24,  25.  thy  AngeU  Becomes  a  feare]  For  *  a  feare'  Upton  (p.  192)  suggested 
afeard,  and  was  severely  criticised  for  it  by  Seward  in  his  Preface  to  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  Works  (p.  Ixiv),  <  A  Fear  becomes'  says  Seward,  *not  only  fearful  but 
ev'n  Fear  itself.  The  image  is  extremely  poetical .  .  .  God  himself  personizes  Fear; 
in  Ezekiel,  xxx,  13,  He  says  '*  I  will  put  a  Fear  in  the  land  of  Egypt"  .  . .  But  the 
instance  most  apposite  is  in  77ie  Maids  Tragedy^  where  the  forlorn  Aspatia  sees  her 
servant  working  the  story  of  Theseus  and  Ariadne,  and  thus  advises  her  to  punish 
the  perfidy  of  the  former  : — "  In  this  place  work  a  quick-sand  .  .  .  and  then  a  Fear, 
Do  that  Fear  bravely." '  Thirlby,  in  a  letter  to  Theobald  dated  May,  1729 
(Nichols  Illust.  ii,  228),  anticipated  Upton,  whose  conjecture  appeared  6rst  in 
print,  I  believe,  and  therefore  has  the  prior  claim.  Heath  upholds  Upton  and  in 
the  Soothsayer's  next  sp>eech :  *  I  say  again,  thy  spirit  Is  all  afraid  to  govern  thee 
near  him,'  he  says,  '  the  reader  will  be  pleased  to  observe  the  words,  /  say  again* 
— Capell  (i»  34)  :  'A  fear'  has  been  chang'd  into — afeard^  a  word  that  stands  con- 
demn'd  by  the  sound  ;  for  whoso  likes  it,  or  can  even  endure  it,  so  near  in  place  to 
'  o'er-power'd,'  his  ear  is  to  be  pity'd  :  But  why  is  <  fear'  to  be  parted  with  ;  mean- 
ing only,  in  language  of  poetry, — a  thing  frighted  or  terrify'd. — Walkkr  (Crit.  iii, 
299)  :  What  does  this  mean  ?  I  suspect  that  Shakespeare  wrote  afear.  ...  I  shookl 
prefer  afeard^  the  final  d  and  e  being  often  confounded  with  one  another ;  but  I  can- 
not away  with  afeard — d erpower* d. — R.  G.  White  considers  Upton's  conjectore 
'  plausible ; '  and  Staunton  observes  that  *  the  personification  of  fear  renders  the 
passage  more  poetical ;  but  it  may  be  questioned,  considering  the  old  text  has  "a 
feare"  whether  Upton's  emendation  is  not  the  true  reading.'  [I  prefer  to  retain 
the  text  of  the  Ff  with  Capell's  interpretation  of  it,  in  spite  of  Heath's  strong  point 
in  the  *  I  say  again  '  in  line  32. — Ed.] 

25.  therefore]  Walker  (  Vers.  112)  gives  this  as  an  instance  where  the  stronger 
accent  is  on  the  last  syllable. 

30.  And  of  that  Naturall  lucke]  That  is,  in  consequence  of  that  natural  luck. 
For  other  examples  where  *  of '  is  used  with  a  causal  signification,  see  Franz,  §  365, 
Anmerkung  I ;  or  Abbott,  §  168.  The  difference  between  of  and  from  in  Shake- 
speare's time  was  so  very  slight  that  occasionally  it  is  almost  impossible  to  catch  the 


ACT  II.  sc.  iu.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  125 

He  beats  thee  '  gainfl  the  oddes.     Thy  Lufter  thickens^  31 

When  he  (hines  by  :  I  fay  againe,  thy  fpirit 
Is  all  afTraid  to  goueme  thee  neere  him  : 
But  he  alway  'tis  Noble. 

Anth.     Get  thee  gone  :  35 

Say  to  Ventigius  I  would  fpeake  with  him.  Exit 

He  (hall  to  Parthia,  be  it  Art  or  hap, 
He  hath  fpoken  true.     The  very  Dice  obey  him, 
And  in  our  fports  my  better  cunning  faints, 
Vnder  his  chance,  if  we  draw  lots  he  fpeeds,  40 

His  Cocks  do  winne  the  Battaile,  flill  of  mine, 

31.  Lufter\  lustre  Rowe.  38.  /poken\  /poke  Pope,  +. 

thickens]  sickens  Gould.  '  39,  40.  faints ^ ...  chance^']  faints^ ... 

34.  ahoay  '/^]  alway  is  Yi^  Rowe.  chance ;  Rowe.    faints. ..chance;  Pope 

mufay,  *tis  Pope  et  seq.  et  seq. 

36, 45.  Ventigius]  Ventidius  Ff.  40.  lots  he  fpeeds^  lots,  he  fpeeds,  Ff, 

37.  Parthia^  Parthia;  Pope.     Par-  Rowe.    lots,  he  speeds ;  Pope  et  seq. 
tkia.  Han.  Johns,  et  seq. 

sabtle  meaning  that  divides  them ;  in  the  final  resort  this  meaning  must  depend  on 
the  Terb.  In  the  present  phrase,  for  instance,  we  could  here  substitute  from  for 
'of'  without  at  all  modifying  the  meaning,  until  we  come  to  the  verb,  'beats/  and 
then  we  perceiTe  that '  he  beats  thee  from  that  natural  luck '  conveys  a  different  mean- 
ing iiom  '  he  beats  thee  of  that  natural  luck ; '  as  when  Hermione  says  (  Wint.  Tale, 
I,  iiy  42),  'say  this  to  him,  He's  beat  from  his  best  ward.*  These  prepositions  are  not, 
therefore,  here  at  least,  interchangeable,  however  much  they  may  seem  so  at  first 
sight  Nevertheless  there  are  cases  where  it  does  seem  perfectly  immaterial  which 
one  is  used.  Take,  *His  cocks  do  win  the  battle  still  of  mine  (line  41,  below). 
Would  it  not  run  equally  well  if  the  phrase  were  still  from  mine  ?  Prospero  uses 
•  from  •  after  the  verb  « to  win/  where  he  says  (  Temp.  I,  ii,  455),  •  hast  put  thyself 
Upon  this  island  as  a  spy,  to  win  it  From  me.'  This  coalescence  of  these  two  prepo- 
sitions has  incited  the  granmiarians  to  find  some  rule  which  may  be  a  guide  to  their 
use.  Abbott  ({  166)  says  that  *  of  *  is  used  for  from  with  verbs  that  signify,  either 
literally  or  metaphorically,  depriving,  delivering,  etc'  Franz  (§  356)  is  more 
specific,  and  enumerates  a  considerable  number  of  verbs  where  one  or  the  other  may 
be  used,  such  as,  discharge,  deliver,  rid  (to  free  and  to  release,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  used  in  Shakespeare  only  with  from),  cleanse,  clear,  purge,  wash,  have,  get, 
receive,  take,  borrow,  win,  wrest,  be,  descend,  come,  moreover,  after  the  adjectives 
free,  clear ^  secure,  *  If,*  continues  Franz,  •  after  these  verbs,  of  and  from  occasion- 
ally occur  when  they  do  not  seem  to  be  absolutely  the  same,  and  it  may  be  desirable 
to  decide  upon  the  difference  between  them,  then  there  seems  to  be  no  principle  to 
be  discerned  in  their  use.'  See,  also,  *he  frets  That  Lepidus  of  the  Triumpherate 
should  be  deposed/  IH,  vi,  30,  *  Get  gole  for  gole  of  youth,'  IV,  viii,  29. — Ed. 

41.  Cocks]  A  good  account  of  the  training  of  cocks  for  fighting  is  given  by  Hart- 
ING  (p.  172)  who  says  the  sport '  was  much  in  vogue  in  Shakespeare's  day.'  A  short 
historical  account  of  the  game  is  to  be  found  in  Kelljr's  Notices  of  Z^ester,  p.  162. 

41.  of  mine]  See  note  on  '  of '  in  line  30  above. 


126  THE   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  ii,  sc  iii. 

When  it  is  all  to  naught :  and  his  Quailes  euer  42 

Beate  mine(in  hoopt )  at  odd's.     I  will  to  Egypte: 

42.  naugM"]  ¥(,  Rowe,  Dyce,  Wh.  i.  a/  odds  Pope,  Theob.  Warb.  Johns,    m- 

naught  Pope  et  cet  -^oof  d  at  odds  Han.    in  whoo^  d-at  odds 

42,  43.   Quailes „,hoopty\   quails  in-  Seward,  Cap.     inhoofd^  at  odds  Rowe 
hooped  Ever  beat  mine  Words.  et  cet. 

43.  {in  hoopt)  at  odd' s^Yi.  in-hoofd 

43.  Beate  mine  (in  hoopt)  at  odd's]  Seward  (p.  Ixt)  :  Here  is  evidently  a  sad 
anti-climax.  His  cocks  win  the  battle  of  mine  when  it  is  all  to  nought  on  my  side, 
and  his  quails,  fighting  in  a  hoop^  beat  mine  when  the  odds  are  on  my  side.  What 
a  falling  off  is  there  1  .  .  .  To  whoop  or  hollow,  might  have  been  spelt  hoop^  without 
the  w ;  \  read  therefore :  '  Beat  mine  in  whoop' d-at  odds.'  i.  e.  when  the  odds  are  so 
great,  that  the  betters  on  my  side  shout  and  whoop  for  victory.  All  who  have  been 
in  a  Cock-pit  will  have  a  clear  idea  of  this :  Flatness  and  Anti-climax  will  be  avoided, 
and  the  soaring  spirit  of  Shakespeare  will  recover  its  own  vigour. — [Seward's  reason- 
ing proved  too  cogent  for  Capell,  who  adopted  both  it  and  his  emendation.] — Heath 
(p.  457) :  I  shall  only  observe,  that  the  phrase,  as  I  apprehend,  is,  to  beat  at  odds,  not 
to  beat  in  odds ;  and  that  the  meaning  of  the  common  reading  is.  Beat  mine  even 
when  put  into  the  cage,  unequally  matched,  with  the  odds  very  much  in  my  favour. 
— Johnson:  'Inhoop'd*  is  inclosed,  confined,  that  they  may  fight.  The  modem 
editions  read, '  Beat  mine  in  whoopPd  at  odds.' — [The  Cambridge  Editors  quote 
this  note  of  Johnson  and  remark  :  '  No  edition  we  know  of  reads  thus.  In  Steevens 
and  all  subsequent  editions  Johnson's  note  is  repeated,  '*whoop'd  at"  being 
hyphened.*] — Farmer  :  Shakesf>eare  gives  us  the  practice  of  his  own  time ;  and 
there  is  no  occasion  for  in  whoofd-at^  or  any  other  alteration.  John  Davies  begins ' 
one  of  his  Epigrams  Vpon  English  Proutrbes  : — *  He  sets  cocke  on  the  hoope,  in, 
you  would  say  ;  For  cocking  in  hoopes  is  now  all  the  play.'  [ — No.  287,  ed.  Grosart, 
where  it  is  not  punctuated  as  intelligently  as  Farmer  gives  it. — Ed.] — Douce  (ii,  87)  : 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  quail-fighting  was  practised  in  Shakspeare's  time ;  but 
when  our  poet  speaks  of  their  being  inhoofdy  he  might  suppose  that  Caesar's  or 
Antony's  quails,  which  he  found  in  Plutarch,  were  trained  to  battle  like  game  cocks 
in  a  ring  or  circle.  Quail  combats  were  well  known  among  the  ancients,  and  espe- 
cially at  Athens.  Julius  Pollux  relates  that  a  circle  was  made  in  which  the  birds 
were  placed,  and  he  whose  quail  was  driven  out  of  this  circle  lost  the  stake,  which 
was  sometimes  money,  and  occasionally  the  quails  themselves.  [Douce  gives  an 
engraving  from  a  Chinese  miniature  which]  represents  some  ladies  engaged  at  this 
amusement,  where  the  quails  are  actually  inhoop'd. — Nares  (j.  v.  Inhoop^d)  :  The 
substance  of  this  passage  is  from  North's  Plutarch,  but  the  *  inhoop'd '  is  the  addition 
of  our  poet.  No  trace  of  such  a  mode  of  fighting  has  been  found  except  in  Davies's 
Epigram  J  quoted  by  Fanner.  Yet  R.  Holmes,  who  gives  a  list  of  terms  and  customs 
used  in  cock-fighting,  has  no  mention  of  hoops.  See  his  Acad,  of  Armory^  B.  ii,  ch. 
II.  Nor  is  any  trace  of  the  hoops  to  be  found  in  any  book  on  cock-fighting.  If 
this  custom  of  fighting  cocks  within  hoops  could  be  thoroughly  proved,  it  would  also 
afford  the  best  explanation  of  the  phrase  cock-a-hoop  ;  the  cock  perching  on  the  hoop, 
in  an  exulting  manner,  either  before  or  after  the  battle. — [The  N.  E.  D.^  *  in  expla- 
nation of  cock-a-hoopy  says  that  it  is  '  a  phrase  of  doubtful  origin ;  the  history  of  which 
has  been  further  obscured  by  subsequent  attempts,  explicit  or  implicit,  to  analyse  it.'] 


ACT  II,  sc.  iv.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


127 


,And  though  I  make  this  marriage  for  my  peace, 
I'th'Eaft  my  pleafure  lies.     Oh  come  Ventigius, 

Enter  Ventigius, 
Tf ou  mufl  to  Parthia,  your  CommifTions  ready  : 
Tollow  me^and  reciue't.  Exeunt 

{Scene  IK] 

Enter  LepiduSj  Mecenas  and  Agrippa. 

Lepidus.     Trouble  your  felues  no  further  :  pray  you 
haflen  your  Generals  after. 

Agr.     SiTjMarke  AntAonyywill  e'ne  but  kiffe  OSlauia^ 
and  weele  follow. 

Lepu     Till  I  (hall  fee  you  in  your  Souldiers  dreffe, 
Which  will  become  you  both  :  Farewell. 

Mece.     We  (hall  :  as  I  conceiue  the  ioumey,  be  at 
Mount  before  you  Lepidus. 

Lepi.     Your  way  is  (horter,  my  purpofes  do  draw  me 
much  about,  you'le  win  two  dayes  vpon  me. 


45 


5 


10 


44.  And'\  For  Cap.  conj. 
^    47.    Commiffions^  Commiffion* s  F^F^. 

48.  reciut^t]  Ff,  Rowe, -!- ,Cap.  Dycc, 
Glo.  Cam.     receive  it  Var.  *  73  et  cet. 

Scene  IV.  Cap. 
The  Same.    A  Street.  Cap. 

I-13.  Om.  Gar. 

1.  Lepidus]  Lepidus,  attended.  Cap. 
2,3.  7V^i/3/f...^/j^«f]  One  line,  Rowe 

etseq. 

2.  your  felues]  your  f elf e  Ff,  Rowe. 
further]  Steev.  Varr.   Knt,  Sing. 

Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  Sta.  Ktly.    farther  Ff 
et  cet 

4.  Anthony,]  Anthony    Ff  et  seq. 

4,  5.  will  ...follow]  One  line,  Theob. 


et  seq. 

7.  both  :]  bothf  Rowe  et  seq. 

8,  9.  ^...Lepidus]  Lines  end,  be... 
Lepidus  Rowe.  shall. . .  mount. . .  Lepidus 
Pope  et  seq. 

8.  fhall:]  shall,  Rowe. 

at]  at  the  Yl^  Rowe,  Cap.  Var.  '73, 
Ran.  Knt,  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  at  th* 
Pope,  + . 

9.  Mount]  Ff,  Rowe,  Var.  *2i.  Coll. 
Sing.  Dyce,  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  Sta. 
Mount  Misenum  Ktly.  mount  Pop>e  et 
cet. 

10.  II.  Your. ..me]  Lines  tndf  shorter 
...about... me  Rowe  et  seq. 


44.  And  though  ]  Walker  {Crit.  ii,  156):  Read,  as  the  connection  of  the 
thoughts  requires,  '  An  though.' 

3.  hasten  your  Generals  after]  For  other  instances  of  the  transposition  of 
prepositions,  see,  if  need  be,  Abbott,  {  203. 

8,  9.  be  at  Mount]  Steevens  :  That  is.  Mount  Misenum. — Malone  :  Our  author 
probably  wrote  * «'  the  Mount.' — [Is  it  not  more  likely  that  there  is  an  absorption  of 
the  in  the  final  /  of  *  at '  ?— Ed.] 

II.  youle  win  two  dayes  vpon  me]  Franz  (§  334)  :  The  persistent  advance 
of  any  action,  which  chiefly  takes  place  either  at  the  cost  or  to  the  advantage  of 


128  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  v. 

Both.     Sir  good  fucceffe.  I2 

LepL    Farewell.  Exeunt. 

[Scene  K] 

Enter  Cleopatery  Charmian ,  IraSy  and  Alexas. 
Cleo.     Giue  me  fome  MufickeiMuficke^  moody  foode 
of  vs  that  trade  in  Loue. 
Omnes.     The  Muficke,  hoa. 

Enter  Mardian  the  Eunuch.  5 

Cleo.     Let  it  alone,  let's  to  Billards  :  come  Charmian. 

12.  Both.]  Ff.     Mec.  Agr.  Cap.  4.  Omnes.]  Att.  Cap. 

Sir\  Om.  Han.  6.  Let..,come\  One  line,  Han.  Cap. 

13.  Exeunt.]  Exeunt  severally.  Cap.  Varr. 

Scene  HI.  Rowe.  Scene  V.  Pope  et                 Let ..,  Billards]  One  line,   Steev. 

seq.  Varr.  Knt,  Sta. 

Alexandria.  Rowe.     The   Palace  in  Ut^s]    Ff,    Rowe,   Pope,    Theob. 

Alexandria.  Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Coll.  Sing.    Dyce,  Wh. 

1.  Qeopater]  F,.  Glo.  Cam.     Ut  us  Han.  et  cet 

2,  3.   Giue, ..Loue]  Lines  end,/2W...                  Billards]  F,. 
Icve.  Rowe  et  seq. 

another  person,  or  'which,  through  a  gradual  increase,  impairs  or  in  any  way  les- 
sens the  stable  condition  of  another,  is  indicated,  after  such  verbs  as  <to  gain,'  <  to 
encroach,'  by  on  or  upon.  The  preposition  fulfills  the  same  function  after  '  to  win,' 
'  to  grow  ; '  but  the  expression  is,  however,  occasionally  in  Shakespeare  so  pregnant 
as  to  be  not  always  understood  by  a  modem  reader  without  further  amplifications. 
[Thus,  the  present  phrase  is  equivalent  to]  '  you  will  get  the  advantage  of  me  by  two 
days.' — [See  also  IV,  xiv,  118,  *My  Queen  and  Eros  Haue .  .  .  got  upon  me  A 
Noblenesse,'  etc. — Ed.] 

2.  Masicke,  moody  foode,  etc.  ]  Johnson  :  The  mood  is  the  mind,  or  mental 
disposition.  Perhaps  here  is  a  poor  jest  intended  between  niood  the  mind  and  moods 
of  music. — Steevens  :  *  Moody,'  in  this  instance,  means  melancholy. — [Thus  in  the 
first  line  of  Twelfth  Nighty  *  If  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on.'] 

3.  of  V8  that  trade  in  Loue]  There  is  no  thought  here  of  traffic^ — traffic  is 
mercenary.  No  mercenary  love  demands  music  as  its  food.  Qeopatra  means  that 
her  sole  dealing  is  in  love  ;  it  is  her  very  life. — Ed. 

6.  let's  to  Billards]  Malone  :  This  game  was  not  known  in  ancient  times. — 
Hudson  :  '  An  anachronism,'  say  the  critics.  But  how  do  they  know  this  ?  Late 
researches  have  shown  that  many  things  were  in  use  in  old  Egypt,  which,  afterwards 
lost,  have  been  reinvented  in  modem  times.  But  Shakespeare  did  not  know  this? 
Doubtless,  not ;  but  then  he  knew  that  by  using  a  term  familiar  to  his  audience  he 
would  lead  their  thoughts  to  what  has  always  followed  in  the  train  of  luxury  and 
refinement  Suppose  he  had  been  so  learned,  and  withal  such  a  slave  to  his  learn- 
ing, as  to  use  a  term  signifying  some  game  which  the  English  people  had  never  heard 
of.  Which  were  the  greater  anachronism? — A.  A.  Adee  {^Lit.  World,  21  April, 
1883,  Boston) :  For  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  the  fistvourite  anachronism  in 


ACT  II,  sc.  v.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  129 

[6.  let's  to  BUlards] 
Shakespeare*s  plays,  singled  out  by  the  hypercritics,  has  been  [this  passage].  Of 
late,  however,  certain  investigators  have  turned  the  tables,  and  instead  of  leaving  the 
unlucky  anachronism  to  support  the  Farmerian  theory  of  Shakespeare's  want  of  learn- 
ing, or  the  more  kindly  modem  belief  that  he  wrote  too  impetuously  to  be  bound  by 
mere  chronology  and  scientific  facts,  they  find  in  it  an  argument  against  the  Shake- 
spearian authorship  of  the  plays,  since  as  one  of  them  says :  *  The  human  encyclo- 
pedia who  wrote  that  sentence  appears  to  have  known, — what  very  few  people  know 
nowadays, — that  the  game  of  billiards  is  older  than  Qeopatra.*  It  may  be,  as  asserted, 
that  a  rudimentary  game,  in  which  ivory  balls  were  punched  with  a  stick  into  holes 
in  a  table,  after  the  fashion  of  our  modem  <  tivoli '  or  <  bagatelle,*  was  really  in  vogue 
more  than  two  thousand  years  ago,  but  it  is  very  certain  that  Shakespeare  never 
bothered  his  head  about  it.  He  simply  followed  his  habit,  and  cribbed  the  idea  from 
somebody  else.  In  Chapman's  Blind  Beggar  of  Alexandria^  iCgiale  says:  <Go, 
Aspasia,  Send  for  some  ladies  to  go  play  with  you  At  chess,  at  billiards,  and  at  other 
game.'  As  Chapman's  play  was  printed  in  1598,  ten  years  before  Ant,  6r*  Cleo, 
was  written,  it  is  easy  to  see  where  Shakespeare  get  the  idea  that  billiards  was  an 
Egyptian  game,  and  a  favourite  pastime  of  women.  Whether  George  Chapman, 
whose  classical  learning  enabled  him  to  translate  Homer,  wrote  from  actual  knowl- 
edge, or  committed  an  anachronism,  may  be  disputed ;  but  the  probabilities  lean  to 
the  latter  conjecture,  for,  in  this  same  play,  the  hero  flourishes  a  pistol,  smokes  tobacco, 
swears  by  'God's  wounds,'  and  talks  fair  modern  Spanish,  in  the  time  of  the 
Rolomies. — Murray  {N.  E.  D.)  z  An  adopted  form  of  French  billard^  the  game ; 
so  named  from  billard,  <  a  cue,'  originally  <  a  stick  with  curved  end,  a  hockey-stick,' 
diminutiTe  of  bille^  piece  of  wood,  stick.  In  England  introduced  only  as  the  name 
of  the  game,  and  made  plural  as  in  draughts^  skittles^  bowls^  etc.  1591  Spenser, 
Maiher  Hubherdy  803, '  With  all  the  thriftles  games  that  may  be  found  .  .  .  With  dice, 
with,  cards,  with  halliards.  1598  Florio,  Trucco^  a  kinde  of  play  with  balles  vpon 
a  table,  called  billiards.* — [Then  follows  the  present  passage.  In  an  Article  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review  (April,  1871,  p.  377)  on  the  '  Chorizontes,'  the  writer  observes 
that  *  Shakespeare  could  not  have  made  any  of  his  characters  speak  of  tobacco  without 
being  grossly  anachronistic,  the  incidents  in  all  his  plays  having  occurred  at  remote 
periods,  or,  at  any  rate,  much  anterior  to  the  introduction  of  tobacco  into  Europe, 
whereas  Ben  Jonson  [who  does  mention  tobacco]  laid  the  plot  of  many  a  play  in  his 
own  time  when  tobacco  was  familiar  to  all.'  This  statement  having  been  criticised 
by  Dr  Hayman,  the  editor  of  the  Odyssey^  the  author  of  the  Article  replied  ( Athen- 
itum,  6  Sept.  1873),  and  admirably  defines  the  distinction  between  anachronisms,  that 
might  be  termed  permissible  and  those  that  are  too  'gross'  to  be  ever  tolerated. 
After  referring  to  the  mention  by  Shakespeare  of  *  cannon '  in  ^ing  John^  a  *  clock 
striking '  in  Julius  Casar^  and  '  billiards '  in  this  present  play,  the  writer  continues, 
'but  no  dramatic  author,  to  produce  a  scenic  effect,  would  shrink  from  such  anachro- 
nisms, because  they  are  not  '*  gross,"  not  so  "  gross  "  as  to  be  detected  in  an  instant 
by  a  theatrical  audience,  which  knows  nothing  whatever  about  the  origin  of  can- 
non, clocks,  and  billiards.  But  all  Shakespeare's  contemporaries,  even  the  most 
ignorant,  knowing  that  tobacco  had  been  introduced  into  the  old  world  during  their 
lives,  would  haVe  derided  the  great  dramatist  had  he  represented  Sir  John  Falstaff 
consoling  himself  at  Dame  Quickl3r's  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  with  a  pipe 
of  tobacco.  ...  So  a  dramatist  of  our  age  could  not  speak  of  William  the  Conqueror 
timvelling  by  an  express  train,  or  sending  a  message  by  the  electric  telegraph  ;  the 

9 


I30 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  u,  sc—  ^* 


Char.     My  arme  is  fore,  bed  play  with  Mardian. 

Cleopa.    As  well  a  woman  with  an  Eunuch  plaide,  as 
with  a  woman.     Come  you'le  play  with  me  Sir  ? 

Mardi.     As  well  as  I  can  Madam . 

Cleo.     And  when  good  will  is  (hewed, 
Though^t  come  to  (hort 

The  Aftor  may  pleade  pardon.     He  none  now, 
Giue  me  mine  Angle,  week  to'th'Riuer  there 
My  Muficke  playing  farre  off.     I  will  betray 
Tawny  fine  fifties,  my  bended  hooke  ftiall  pierce 
Their  (limy  iawes  :  and  as  I  draw  them  vp, 
He  think  e  them  euery  one  an  Anthony ^ 


7 


10 


I 


8 


8,  9.  As  well.., Sir  t'\  Two  lines,  end- 
ing//ay  </.  ..,Sirf  Rowe  ct  seq. 

11,  12.  And...Jhort'\  One  line,  Rowe 
et  seq. 

\l,  Jhewed'\  Ff.     shrtvd  or  shotted 
Pope  et  seq. 

12.  7>lw^^V]  MdVPope,  +  .  though 
it  Var.  '78,  '85,  Mai.  Ran.  Stecv.  Varr. 

loJhort'\  toojhort  Ff  ct  seq. 
14.  Angle ^'\  angle ;  Glo.  Cam.   angle, 
Ktly. 


14.  /i;'M']/<y/^Cap.  Varr.  Mai 
Steev.  Varr.  Coll. 

Riuer\     River ^     Ff,     Rowe,+ 
river:  Cap.  et  cet, 

15.  off}]  F,Fj.    off,  F^  et  seq. 

16.  Tawny   Jine^      Tawnyfim     F, 
Tawney-fene  F^F^.      Tawny-fin  Row( 
Pope,  Han.  7aioyf)^ifi«Vrheob.Waib, 
et  seq. 

fijhes\  fish  Pope,  +  ,  Var.  '73. 
bended^  bent  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 


anachronism  would  be  *< gross";  it  would  come  immediately  within  the  cognizance  of 
the  audience,  who  know  what  is  going  on  in  their  own  generation,  with  some  know- 
ing  what  went  on  in  the  generation  immediately  preceding ;  and,  thinking  the  mistake 
ridiculous,  they  would  burst  into  an  excessive  merriment  .  .  .  But  the  anachronism 
would  not  be  discovered  by  anybody  in  his  audience,  if  a  dramatic  author  were  to 
represent  the  Egyptian  Pharaoh  Cheops  going  in  a  pair  of  boots  to  witness  the  prog- 
ress of  the  building  of  the  Great  Pyramid,  or  the  Jews  returning  in  hats  and  shoes 
from  their  Babylonish  captivity.  For  where  can  the  theatrical  audience  be  found 
that  knows  anything  about  the  history  of  boots,  hats,  and  shoes,  when  it  does  not  com- 
prise, peradventure,  one  man  possessing  sound  learning  and  extensive  information  ? ' 
—Ed.] 

1 1.  And  when  good  will,  etc.]  Steevens  :  Compare,  <  For  never  any  thing  can 
be  amiss,  When  simpleness  and  duty  tender  it.' — Mid  N.  D.  V,  i,  82. 

16.  Tawny  fine  fishes]  Theubald*s  emendation  which  seems  obvioas  enough 
to  us  now,  falls  in  with  many  another  in  Walker's  list  {Crii,  ii,  61)  of  instances 
where  final  d  and  final  e  are  confounded.  See  I,  iv,  10 ;  I,  v,  58  ;  V,  i,  49.  I  do 
not  know  why  Shakespeare  should  have  here  used  *  tawny/  which  is  not,  at  least  in 
my  experience,  a  characteristic  colour  of  Mediterranean  fishes,  some  of  which  are 
extremely  brilliant  in  hue  ;  and  he  could  hardly  have  had  in  mind  English  fish,  inas- 
much as  he  had  already  in  Much  Ado  spoken  of  seeing  *  the  fish  Cut  with  her  golden 
oars  the  silver  stream.'  Possibly,  it  was  Cleopatra's  'moodiness'  which  tinged 
everything  with  a  sombre  tint — Ed. 


v.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  I3I 

ah  ha;y'are  caught. 

Twas  merry  when  you  wagered  on  your  Ang-  20 

n  your  diuer  did  hang  a  fait  fifh  on  his  hooke 
\  with  feruencie  drew  vp. 
That  time?  Oh  times  : 
him  out  of  patience  :  and  that  night 
him  into  patience,  and  next  mome,  25 

iinth  houre,  I  drunke  him  to  his  bed  : 
t  my  Tires  and  Mantles  on  him,whilft 
is  Sword  Phillippan.     Oh  from  Italie, 

Enter  a  Mejfenger.  29 

•]  yoti  re  Rowe  et  seq.  patience  ;  Cam.    patience  ;  . . .  patience  ; 

7)«af...t^.]  Lines  end,  when  Cap.  et  cet.  (subs.) 

f...i^.  Pope  et  seq.  28.  PkUlippan']  F,.   PhiUippon  FJF^. 

ingUng,^  angling;  Theob.  Philippine  Hkh.  PAi/ippin Johns,  PhU- 

q.  ippian  Coll.  Wh.  i,  Ktly. 

f  Oh  times .]  time^—  O  times  !  Oh  from'\  Oh.  From  Johns, 

cc,  Wh.  SU.  Glo.    time^O  Itaiie,'\  F,.    Italic,  F,.   Italic,  F^. 

L  Ktly,  Cam.     Hme  !—0h  Italy  ;Thtoh.     Itafy— Johns. 

owe  et  cet  29.  Enter...]  After  Phillippan.  Coll. 

ttience  .'...patience, ]  patience,  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.   Enter  Scleucus.  Kem- 

Rowc,  +  .        patience,  ...  blc. 

;  a  salt  fish  on  his  hooke]  See  Plutarch,  Appendix.  Grey  (ii,  198) 
1  Memoirs  of  the  English  Court,  1 707,  p.  489,  a  similar  stoiy  of  Nell 
Charles  the  Second.  Douce  (ii,  88)  gives  a  story  from  Nashe's  Lenten 
re  a  Cambridge  scholar  deceived  a  gaping  crowd  in  a  somewhat  similar 

ike]  Abbott  ( {  339) :  Past  indicative  forms  in  m  are  very  common  in 
*.     Thus  sang  does  not  occur,  while  <  sung '  is  common  as  a  past  indicative, 
ess  common  as  a  past  tense  than  *  sprung.'     '  Begun '  is  not  nnconunon 
which  is  also  used. 

1  pat  my  Tires  and  Mantles  on  him]  Warburton  :  This  is  finely 
The  speaker  is  supposed  to  do  this  in  imitation  of  Omphale,  in  her  treat- 
rcules,  the  great  ancestor  of  Antony. 

rd  Phillippan]  Theobald:  We  are  not  to  suppose,  nor  is  there  any 
n  history,  that  Antony  had  any  particular  sword  so  called.  The  dignify- 
s,  in  this  sort,  is  a  custom  of  much  more  recent  date.  We  find  Antony, 
in  this  play,  boasting  of  his  own  prowess  at  Pbilippi :  see  III,  xi,  38. 
le  greatest  action  of  Antony's  life  ;  and  therefore  this  seems  a  fine  piece 
intimating,  that  this  sword  ought  to  be  denominated  from  that  illustrious 
le  same  manner  as  modem  heroes  in  romance  are  made  to  give  their 
pons  names. 

r  a  Messenger]  Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  133)  :  As  illustrative  of  Geopatra's 
perhaps  the  6nest  and  most  characteristic  scene  in  the  whole  play  is  that 
e  messenger  arrives  from  Rome  with  the  tidings  of  Antony's  marriage 


132  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc  ^• 

Ramme  thou  thy  fruitefuU  tidings  in  mine  eares, 
That  long  time  haue  bin  barren. 
Mef,     Madam,  Madam. 

30.  Ramme\  Rain  Han.  Cap.  Ran.  31.  bin\  been  F^. 

Sing.  Ktly.  32.  Madam.'\  Madam  !  Rowe. 

frtdUfuW^  faithful   Theob.    ii,  am^ —  Cap.  et  seq.  (subs.) 
Warb. 

with  Octavia.     She  perceives  at  once  with  quickness  that  all  is  not  well,  and  sh^ 
hastens  to  anticipate  the  worst,  that  she  may  have  the  pleasure  of  being  disappointed.^ 

Her  impatience  to  know  what  she  fears  to  learn,  the  vivacity  with  which  she  gradu 

ally  works  herself  up  into  a  state  of  excitement,  and  at  length  into  fiiry,  is  wrough 
out  with  a  force  of  truth  which  makes  us  recoil. — Staffer  (p.  402)  :  In  the  seen* 
between  Qeopatra  and  the  messenger  who  brings  the  tidings  of  Antony's  marriage 
with  Octavia,  her  fury  and  unreasonableness  know  no  bounds.  Harpagon,  thumping 
Mattre  Jacques,  who,  in  obedience  to  his  master's  orders,  tells  him  candidly  what  is 
said  of  him  in  the  town  ;  the  Viceroy  of  Peru,  in  the  *  P^richole '  of  Mirim6e,  banish- 
ing his  secretary  for  a  like  service,  are  models  of  wisdom  and  coolness  compared  to 
Qeopatra.  There  is  some  shadow  of  excuse  for  their  anger,  as  the  account  given 
them  is  not  the  mere  simple  announcement  of  a  fact,  but  consists  of  a  long  preach- 
ment which  the  secretary  and  Maltre  Jacques  may  have  flavoured  vrith  a  spice  of 
malice  of  their  own ;  but  the  unhappy  messenger  to  Cleopatra  is  as  guiltless  of  the 
message  as  if  he  had  given  it  to  her  under  cover,  closed  and  sealed.  To  insult  him, 
beat  him,  and  threaten  him  with  a  dagger  shows  a  capability  of  exercising  the  same 
frenzy  upon  inanimate  objects,  such  as  pieces  of  furniture,  mirrors,  and  china.  No 
man,  however  furious,  vents  his  rage  in  so  senseless  a  form  as  this,  which  would 
seem  to  belong  peculiarly  to  the  anger  of  women  and  children.  But  at  the  same 
time,  we  must  notice  how  passion  dignifies  every  movement  and  action ;  the  impetu- 
ous torrent  of  her  wrath  makes  what  is  immeasurably  petty,  mean,  and  ridiculous 
appear  even  grand.  No  one  would  ever  feel  inclined  to  laugh  at  this  scene,  in  which 
what  might  have  been  the  subject  for  a  comedy  is  transformed  by  the  violence  and 
force  of  Cleopatra's  love  into  tragic  cries  and  outbursts. — Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  In  the 
MS  this  Messenger  is  called  Ells;  but  whether  that  were  the  name  of  the  actor  of 
the  part,  or  of  the  character,  as  represented  in  some  MS  of  the  play,  we  cannot 
determine.     We  know  no  player  of  that  day  of  the  name  of  Elis  or  Ellis. 

30.  Ramme]  Steevens  :  Rain  of  Hanmer  agrees  better  with  the  epithets  fndt- 
ful  and  barren.  So,  in  Timon  :  *  Rain  sacrificial  whisperings  in  his  ear.' — Malonk  : 
The  term  employed  in  the  text  is  much  in  the  style  of  the  speaker ;  and  is  supported 
incontestably  by  a  passage  in  fu/.  Cas. :  *  I  go  to  meet  The  noble  Brutus,  thrusting 
this  report  Into  his  ears.'  Again,  in  The  Tempest:  *  You  cram  these  words  into  my 
earSf  against  The  stomach  of  my  sense.'— RiTSON :  Ram  is  a  vulgar  word,  never 
used  in  our  author's  plays,  but  once  by  Falstaff,  where  he  describes  his  situation  in 
the  buck-basket.  It  is  here  evidently  a  misprint  for  rain.  The  quotation  from  Jul 
Cas.  does  not  support  the  old  reading  at  all,  the  idea  being  perfectly  distinct — 
Steevens  :  *  Ramm'd,'  however,  occurs  in  King  John  :  II,  i,  272. — Staunton  :  The 
expression  in  the  text  is  quite  characteristic  of  the  speaker. — [Had  Cleopatra  said 
sweetly  and  poetically  *  rain  thou  thy  fruitful  tidings  in  mine  ears,'  the  succeeding 
scene  would  never  have  been  enacted. — Ed.] 


-ACT  II,  sc  v.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 

Qeo.     Anthonycfs  dead^ 
If  thou  fay  fo  Villaine,  thou  kil'ft  thy  Miftris  : 
But  well  and  free,  if  thou  fo  yeild  him. 
There  is  Gold,  and  heere 
My  blewefl  vaines  to  kifTe  :  a  hand  that  Kings 
Haue  lipt,  and  trembled  kifling. 

Mef.     Firft  Madam,  he  is  well. 

Cleo.     Why  there's  moreGold. 
But  firrah  marke,  we  vfe 
To  fay,  the  dead  are  well  :  bring  it  to  that, 
The  Gold  I  pue  thee,  will  I  melt  and  powr 
Downe  thy  ill  vttering  throate. 

Mef.     Good  Madam  heare  me. 


133 

33 

35 


40 


45 


33-36.  Anthonyo's ...  and  heere\  Ff, 
Rowe.  Lines  end,  so^ . . .free, . .,Kere  Cap. 
vUImh^  „,freey  „,here  Sing.  Dyce,  Glo. 
CuiLSta.  dead f.,. mistress... free,  ...here 
Pope  et  cet 

33.  Anthonyo's]  Antontus  Del.  Glo. 
Cam.  Okf  Antony  is  Ktly.  Anthony's 
FT  etcet 

deadf"]  dead;  Rowe,  Cap.    deadf 
Fbpe.     dead!  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam. 

34.  fo    Viltaine,}  fo,    Vi/tain,  F^F^. 


so,  thou  villain  Huds. 

34.  hil'fll  hillest  Ktly. 

35,  36.  yeild  him.  There^  F,.  yield 
him.  There  F^F^,  Rowe,  Pope  i.  yield 
him,  there  Pope  ii  et  seq. 

38.  Haue'\  Hive  F,. 
40, 41.  lVhy...vfe'\  One  line,  Rowc,-»-, 
Cap.  Varr.  Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Knt,  Sta. 

42.  bring  i^]  bring  me  Yi,  Rowe. 

43.  thee'\  Om.  F^. 

44.  ill  vttering"]  ill-utteringY^^. 


33,  34.  Anthonyo's  dead,  If  thou,  etc.]  It  is  all  very  well  for  sudden  terror  to 
dutch  at  Qeopatra's  heart  and  stop  her  pulses,  but  this  is  no  excuse  whatever  for 
not  speaking  rhythmically.  To  what  trouble  her  heedlessness  gives  rise  !  Abbott 
(I  4184)  decides  that  Antony  is  *  de  -  ad,'  and  that  the  villain  will  kill  his  <  Misteress.* 
Walker  (  Vers.  48)  does  not  prolong  the  term  of  Antonyms  demise,  and  twice  slay 
the  slain,  but  inserts  a  do  after  *  thou,'  *  If  thou  do  say  so; '  he  cannot,  however,  abide 
plain  *  Mistris,'  but  must  also  pronounce  it  Misteress.  Delius  believes  that  in  her 
intense  excitement  Cleopatra  uses  Anthony's  full  dignified  Latin  name  '  Antonius,* 
00  the  only  occasion  when  it  is  used  throughout  the  play.  Keightley  emits  an 
additional  groan  before  <  Anthonyo/  And  thus  all  pare  and  protract  the  lines  into 
nice,  decorous  lengths  to  please  the  eye,  and  rhythm  is  smug  again. — Ed. 

35.  But  well  and  free]  Rann  :  But  well;  and  free  : — Say  but  he  is  well ;  and 
thon  gain'st  thy  freedom. — [Rann  seldom,  if  ever,  gives  any  authority  in  his  notes; 
conjectures  are  there  found  of  Capell,  of  M.  Mason,  and  others ;  all  mingled  with 
those  which  I  believe  to  be  his  own.  I  think  that  the  for^[oing  note  is  one  of  the 
latter.— Ed.] 

37.  My  blewest  vaines  to  kisse,  etc.]  Hazlitt  (p.  99)  :  How  all  the  pride  of 
beauty  and  high  rank  breaks  out  in  her  promised  reward. — [Is  there  not  in  Beaumont 
ft  Fletcher's  False  One,  I,  ii,  a  reminiscence  of  these  lines : — '  and  for  thy  news. 
Receive  a  favour  kings  have  kneeled  in  vain  for,  And  kiss  my  hand '  ? — Ed.] 


134 


THE   TRACE  DIE  OF 


[act  n.  sc  v«r 


Cleo.    Well,  go  too  I  will  : 
But  there's  no  goodneffe  in  thy  face  V.  Anthony 
Be  free  and  healthfull;fo  tart  a  fauour 
To  trumpet  fuch  good  tidings.     I  f  not  well, 
Thou  (houldft  come  like  a  Furie  crowned  with  Snakes, 
Not  like  a  formall  man. 

Mef.    Wilt  pleafe  you  heare  me  ? 

Cleo.     I  haue  a  mind  to  ftrike  thee  ere  thou  fpeak'ft: 
Yet  if  thou  fay  Anthony  hues,  'tis  well. 
Or  friends  with  Cafar^  or  not  Captiue  to  him, 
He  fet  thee  in  a  (hower  of  Grold,and  haile 


55 


46.  go  too'\  go  to  F,Fj.    go  iOf  F^. 

47.  face  i/"}  face^  if  Ff,  Knt  face, 
^Rowe,  +  ,CoU.Wh.  Hal.  Ktly.  face: 
ifCtip.  ct  cet 

48.  healthfuU;fo'\  Ff,  Knt.  healthful; 
Why  so  Rowe,  + .  healthful^  why  so  Cap. 
Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Coll.  ii,  iii,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 
healthful f  needs  so  Mai.  conj.  healthful 
— so  Var.  '73  et  cet.  (subs.) 

fauaur\  favour  suits  not  Ktly. 


49.  trumpet']  usher  M.  Maaon. 

tidings,']  Ff.  tidings  I  Knt«  Coll.  i. 
Sing.  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  Hal  Sta.  tidings  f 
Rowe  et  cet. 

52.  IViU]  mirt  Rowe  u  et  seq. 

54.  *tis]  Ff,  Rowe,+,  Var.  '73,  Coll. 
Hal.  Sta.     is  Tyrwhitt,  Cap.  et  cet 

55.  Captiue]  Captaine  or  Captain  Ff, 
Rowe. 

56.  fet]  fee  F,F^,  Rowe,  Pope. 


47,  48.  no  goodnesse  in  thy  face  if  Anthony  Be  free]  I  cannot  but  consider 
the  punctuation  of  the  Ff,  which  places  a  comma  merely  after  <  face,'  to  be  far  better 
than  Capell's  colon.  Oeopatra  means,  I  think,  that  no  one  with  good  tidings  to 
impart  could  wear  such  a  hang-dog  look. — Ed. 

48.  so  tart  a  fauour]  Knight  :  How  full  of  characteristic  spirit  is  this  passage, 
in  which  we  exactly  follow  the  punctuation  of  the  original.  But  the  editors  are  not 
satisfied  with  it.  So  they  read, « why  so  tart  a  favour.'— Dyce  (ed.  ii)  :  The  '  why' 
added  by  Rowe  (and  by  Collier's  MS)  is  absolutely  necessary  for  the  sense  of  this 
passage,  to  say  nothing  of  the  metre. — [Knight  is  exactly  right,  I  think,  when  he  says 
this  speech  is  characteristic  of  Qeopatra,  but  he  seems  hardly  to  be  aware  how  right 
he  b.  Twice  before  have  we  had  exclamations  from  Qeopatra  as  full  of  scorn  and 
contempt  as  this.  She  said  to  Charmian  (I,  iii,  14)  *  Thou  teachest  like  a  fool.  The 
way  to  lose  him ! '  and  again  (I,  v,  86)  <  When  I  was  green  in  judgement,  cold  in 
blood.  To  say  as  I  said  then  I '  The  present  speech  seems  to  me  to  be  parallel.  It 
appears  to  be  a  fashion  of  speaking  as  peculiar  to  Cleopatra  as  little  short  repetitions 
are  to  Rosalind,  such  as  *  Me  believe  it !  *  '  You  a  lover  1 '  etc.  Rowe's  didactic 
•  why'  is  to  me  oflFensive;  and  the  pause  after  *  healthful  *  makes  good  the  metre. — Ed.] 

50.  a  Furie  crown'd  with  Snakes]  Deighton  :  The  Erinyes  are  represented 
by  iEschylus  as  having  bodies  all  black,  snakes  twined  in  their  hair,  and  blood  drq>- 
ping  from  their  eyes. 

51.  formall]  Johnson  :  Decent,  regular. — Steevens  :  A  man  in  his  senses. — 
Bradley  {N,  E,  D,  s.  v.  f  4.  c.)  :  Normal  in  intellect. 

54.  'tis  well]  Tyrwhitt* s  emendation,  *  is  well,'  is  not  absolutely  necessary. 
56.  set  thee  in  a  shower  of  Gold,  etc.]  Warburton  :  That  is,  I  will  give  thee 


ACT  II.  sc.  v.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  135 

Rich  Pearles  vpon  thee.  57 

Mef.     Madam^  he's  well. 

Cleo.    Wellfaid. 

Mef.    And  Friends  with  Ca/ar.  60 

Cleo.    Thwart  an  honeft  man. 

Me/.     Ca/ar^dLTiA  he, are  greater  Friends  then  euer. 

Cleo.     Make  thee  a  Fortune  from  me. 

Mef,     But  yet  Madam. 

Cleo.     I  do  not  like  but  yet,  it  does  alay  65 

The  good  precedence,  fie  vpon  but  yet, 
Bur  yet  is  as  a  laylor  to  bring  foorth 
Some  monftrous  Malefaflor.     Prythee  Friend, 
Powre  out  the  packe  of  matter  to  mine  eare , 
The  good  and  bad  together  :  he's  friends  with  CcBfar^  70 

In  (late  of  heal  th  thou  faift,  and  thou  faift,  free. 

Mef.     Free  Madam^  no  :  I  made  no  fuch  report. 
He's  bound  vnto  OSlauia. 

Cleo.     For  what  good  tume  ? 

Mef    For  the  beft  tume  i'th'bed.  75 

57.  thie."]  ihi,  F^  65.  alay]  alloy  Gould. 

61.   TJ^art']  Ff.    ThouartWaxt.  Mai.  66.  precedence^  precedent  Han. 

Ran.     ThoUrt  Rowe  et  cet  67.  Bur'\  F,. 

63.  Make'\  Marke  F,.  Mark  FjF^,  69.  the  packe"]  iky  pack  Han.  Cap. 
Kowe,  Cap.  Ran. 

Fortune"]  Forune  F,.  71.  faijt^  A^']  f^fi  or /ay  eft  free  Ff. 

64.  Madcan,]  Madam —  Rowe  et  seq.        soyst^  free  Rowe. 

(sabs.)  72.  Madam,]  Madam  !¥L 

65.  66.  but  yet]  As  a  quotation,  Pope  made]  have  made  Pope. 

et  seq.  report]  /port  F^F^,  Rowe,  Pope. 

ji  kingdom,  it  being  the  eastern  ceremony,  at  the  coronation  of  their  kings,  to  powder 
them  with  gold-dust  and  seed-pearl:  So  Milton, — *  the  gorgeous  East  vrith  richest 
hand  Showeis  on  her  kings  barbaric  pearl  and  gold ' — Bk.  ii,  line  5.  In  the  Life 
0/  7tmur-dec  or  Tamerlane,  written  by  a  Persian  contemporary  author,  are  the  fol- 
lowing words^  as  translated  by  Mons.  Petit  de  la  Croix,  in  the  account  there  given 
of  his  coronation,  Bk.  ii,  chap.  I :  '  Les  Princes  du  sang  royal  et  lea  Emirs  repondi- 
rent  4  pleines  mains  sur  sa  t6te  quantity  d'or  et  de  pierreries  selon  la  coAtume,* 

65,  66.  mlay  The  good  precedence]  Steevens  :  That  is,  abate  the  good  quality 
of  what  is  already  reported. 

66.  fie  vpon  but  3ret]  Compare,  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Tke  Defence  o/Poesie,  1598, 
p.  518,  ad  fin,  ^  'Thus  doing,  you  shall  be  placed  with  Dantes  Beatrix,  or  Virgils 
Anckises.  But  if  (fie  of  such  a  But)  you  be  bom  so  neare  the  dirt-making  Cataract 
cCNilns,'  etc.— Ed. 


136  THE   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  11.  s^::^  —  ^• 


CUo.     I  am  pale  CJutrtnian. 

Mef.     Madam^  he's  married  to  Oilauia. 

Cleo.     The  moft  infefHous  Pefblence  vpon  thee. 

Strikes  him  dawne. 

Mef.     Good  Madam  patience. 

Geo.     What  fay  you  ?  Strikes  him. 

Hence  horrible  Villaine,  or  He  fpume  thine  g^^s 
Like  balb  before  me  :  lie  vnhaire  thy  head, 

She  hales  Mm  vp  and  dawne. 
Thou  (halt  be  whipt  with  Wyer,  and  fteVd  in  brine, 
Smarting  in  lingring  pickle. 

Mef.     Gratious  Madam, 
I  that  do  bring  the  newes,  made  not  the  match. 

Cleo.     Say  'tis  not  fo,  a  Prouince  I  will  giue  thee. 
And  make  thy  Fortunes  proud  :  the  blow  thou  had'ft 
Shall  make  thy  peace,  for  mouing  me  to  rage, 
And  I  will  boot  thee  with  what  guift  befide 
Thy  modeflie  can  begge. 

Mef     He's  married  Madam. 

Cleo.     Rogue,  thou  haft  liu'd  too  long.  Draw  a  knife.  95 

Mef     Nay  then  I  le  runne: 
What  meane  you  Madam,  I  haue  made  no  fault .     Exit. 

Char.Good  Madam  keepe  your  felfe  within  your  felfe. 
The  man  is  innocent. 

C/eo.     Some  Innocents  fcape  not  the  thunderbolt :  100 

76.  /fl/^-]  famt  Gould.  92.  ^tftl  gift  FjF^. 

80.  patUnci\  have  but  patience  Han.  95.  knife.]  dagger.  Rowe. 

82.  ^<7m'^^...<ryrj]  Separate  line,  Cap.  97.   Madam^   Madam  f  Rowe  ii  et 

Var.  '78  et  seq.  scq. 

8$.  Jtevfd^  stood  Qov\6.»  loo.  Inno€enis\  Innoceuts  F,. 

93.  tnodestie]  Schmidt  (Z^'J^.)  :  That  is,  freedom  from  arrogance  or  obtrusive 
impudence. — [Whereof  the  present  passage  is  given  as  an  example.  But  is  it  not, 
more  properly,  equivalent  to  moderation? — Ed.] 

95.  Draw  a  knife]  Note  the  mandatory  tone,  indicative  of  a  play-house  copy. — 
Ed. 

100.  Some  Innocents  scape  not  the  thunderbolt]  Douce  (ii,  89)  takes  this 
line  as  the  subject  of  a  note  on  the  Roman  belief  in  regard  to  those  who  were  struck 
by  lightning ;  it  in  nowise  illustrates  Cleopatra's  words,  which  mean  simply  that 
the  innocent  sometimes  suffer  with  the  guilty,  and  that  therefore  this  man  cannot 
complain. — Walker  (CrtV.  iii,  300)  will  have  us  arrange,  'as  my  ear  requires,'  he 
lays,  this  and  the  preceding  line  thus :  <  The  man  is  innocent.     Some  innocents  | 


76 


II,  sc.  v.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  137 

M^lt  Egypt  into  Nyle  :  and  kindly  creatures  lOi 

Tume  all  to  Serpents.     Call  the  flaue  againe, 
Though  I  am  mad,  I  will  not  byte  him  :Call? 
Char.     He  is  afeard  to  come. 

Cleo.     I  will  not  hurt  him,  105 

Tl^^fe  hands  do  lacke  Nobility,  that  they  ftrike 
^    xneaner  then  my  felfe  :  fince  I  my  felfe 
"I^ue  giuen  my  felfe  the  caufe.     Come  hither  Sir. 

Enter  the  Mejfenger  againe,  , 

^^^ough  it  be  honed,  it  is  neuer  good  no 

^^  bring  bad  newes  ;  giue  to  a  gratious  Meffage 
^^^^  hoft  of  tongues,  but  let  ill  tydings  tell 
^^^emfelue  s,  when  they  be  felt.  113 

^01.  kindfy"]  kindled Y{,  Kovi^,  109.  Enter...]    Re-enter  the   Mes- 

^03.   CaU?'\  Call.  FjF^  et  seq.  senger.  Rowe.    Re-enter  Charmian  and 

^04.  afeard^    afraid  Pope,  +  ,  Var.         Messenger.  Dyce. 

^3.  1 1 2,  II 3.  f/^. . .  Tkem/elues]  it, . .  Tftem- 

105.  [Exit  Charmian.  Dyce.  reives  F,. 

ipe  not  the  thunderbolt/  whereby  it  is  difficult  to  perceive  the  gain.     The  half- 
99  is  filled  up,  to  be  sure ;  but  why  should  *  'Scape  not  the  thunderbolt '  be 
? 

10I9  102.  Melt  £g3rpt  .  .  .  Tume  all]  Abbott  (§  364)  observes  in  regard  to 
^ese  two  verbs  that  it  is  '  often  impossible  to  tell  whether  we  have  an  imperative 
^rith  a  vocative,  or  a  subjunctive  used  optatively  or  conditionally.'     I  hardly  under- 
stand what  is  meant  by  an  *  imperative  with  a  vocative '  in  this  passage.    The  voca- 
tives can  hardly  be  '  Egypt,*  or  '  kindly  creatures.'     But  omitting  the  <  vocatives/ 
both  Terfos  seem  to  me  imperatives,  like  '  Let  Rome  in  Tiber  melt.'     Thiselton 
^p.  13),  in  the  present  command  of  Qeopatra  and  in  that  of  Anthony  last  quoted, 
vonld  find  that  <  the  affinity  of  nature  between  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  is  suggested 
by  their  similar  imprecations  when  the  continuance  of  their  connection  is  threatened.' 
—Ed. 

103.  Call  ?]  Is  this  interrogation  mark  absolutely  wrong?  It  has  been  discarded 
by  every  editor  since  the  Third  Folio.  But  may  it  not  indicate  Charmian' s  hesi- 
tition,  and  Cleopatra's  imperious  questioning  of  her  delay?  May  it  not  be  similar 
to  Lear's  frenzied  shout,  '  Who  stirs  ? '  when  the  circle  of  courtiers  stand  motion- 
less with  horror  at  the  banishment  of  Cordelia,  and  Lear  has  already  cried,  '  Call 
France  ! '  ?— Ed. 

106.  These  hands  do  lacke  Nobility,  etc.]  Malone  :  This  play  was  probably 
not  produced  until  after  Elizabeth's  death,  when  a  stroke  at  her  proud  and  passion- 
ate demeanour  to  her  courtiers  and  maids  of  honour  (for  her  majesty  used  to  chastise 
thtm  too)  might  be  safely  hazarded. — [What  cared  Shakespeare,  at  such  a  moment, 
for  Elizabeth  and  all  her  court?     He  was  Cleopatra. — Ed.] 

107,  108.  since  I  my  selfe  .  .  .  the  cause]  Deighton  :  Sc,  by  allowing  myself 
to  be  such  a  slave  to  love  for  Antony. — [Or,  possibly,  in  that  she  had  ever  allowed 
Anthony  to  leave  her. — Ed.] 


138 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  u, 


Me/.     I  haue  done  my  duty. 

Cleo.     Is  he  married  ? 
I  canAot  hate  thee  worfer  then  I  do, 
If  thou  againe  fay  yes. 

Me/.     He's  married  Madam. 

Cleo.    The  Gods  confound  thee, 
Doft  thou  hold  there  ftill  ? 

Me/    Should  I  lye  Madame  ? 

Cleo.     Oh,  I  would  thou  didft: 
So  halfe  my  Egypt  were  fubmerg'd  and  made 
A  Cefteme  for  fcal'd  Snakes.     Go  get  thee  hence, 
Had'ft  thou  Narci/fns  in  thy  face  to  me. 
Thou  would'ft  appeere  moft  vgly :  He  is  married  ? 

Me/.     I  craue  your  Highneffe  pardon. 

Cleo.     He  is  married  ? 

Me/     Take  no  offence,  that  I  would  not  offend  you. 
To  punnifli  me  for  what  you  make  me  do 
Seemes  much  vnequall,  he's  married  to  0£lama. 

Cleo.     Oh  that  his  fault  fliould  make  a  knaue  of  thee. 


\2S 


130 


132 


114.  I  haue\  Vve  Dyce  ii,  iii. 
doHi\  but  done  Cap. 

117.  tkou\  you  Rowe  ii,  +  . 

118.  He'i\   He  is  Varr.    MaL   Ran. 
Steev.  Varr.  Knt. 

119.  120.  One  line,  Rowe  et  seq. 
122.  /  wou/d'\  would  FjF^,  Rowe, 

Pope. 

didft:'\  didst.  Coll.  Dyce,  Wh. 
Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  Sta. 

124.   Cefterru\  Ciftem  F^F^. 

Goget'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob. 
i,  Han.  Cam.  ii.  go,  get  Theob.  ii  et 
cet 


125.  face  to  me,"]  face,  to  $fte  Ff  ti 
seq. 

126,  128.  married  ^1  married.  Pope. 

129.  offence,  that^  offence,  for  Pope, 
Han.     offence,  Gould. 

130.  do'\  do,  Rowe. 

131.  vnequcUl,'\  unequal,  Johns.  Var. 
'73.     unequall:  Ff  et  cet. 

h^s'\  he  is  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.  Steer. 
Varr.  Knt,  ColL  Wh.  Hal. 

Ac's  married  to  0<5lauia]  Given 
to  Qeopatra  followed  by  the  stage  direc- 
tion :  The  messenger  pauses  and  makes 
no  answer.  Orger. 


123.  So  halfe  my  Egypt]  Abbott  (§  133)  :  'So,'  thus  meaning  on  conditiom 
that,  is  sometimes  used  where  the  context  implies  the  addition  of  ex^en.  Thus  here, 
*  So  (even  if  )  half  my  B^pt,*  etc. 

126.  appeere  most  vgly]  Steevkns:  So  in  King  John,  IH,  i,  36,  37;  *Fd- 
low,  be  gone ;  I  cannot  brook  thy  sight ;  This  news  hath  made  thee  a  most  ugly 
man.' 

129.  Take  no  offence,  etc]  Capell  (i,  35)  :  Meaning — no  new  offence ;  and  is 
wpoV^  upon  seeing  her  angry,  that  her  question  was  not  instantly  answered ;  his 
delay,  as  the  speaker  would  intimate,  proceeding  from  no  other  cause,  but — that  he 
would  not  offend  her. 


II,  sc.  v.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  139 

^^'fea.t  art  not  what  thwart  fure  of.     Get  thee  hence,  133 

*33.  Thai. ..fure  o/"]   Thai  art  not  —Sing.  i.    That  art  not!  Whatthoiirt 

'^^^*^  thou  art  fure  of.  Yi^^ow^     That  sure  of  *  t  ?  Sing,  n.     That  art  not  what 

^^•^^  ^  what  thotirt  sure  of  I  Han.  thouutter'stKirmtax.    That  art  not  what 

^*H).  Cap.      That  art  notf^lVhai!  thoti  rt  sure  of !  Voi^  t\  ctt, 

^***^rt  sure  of  U  f  Mason,  Steev.  Var.  133.  art^    wot   Jervis.      art's   Bul- 

23.  »13,  Coll.  ii,  Hazlitt,  KUy,  Dtn.  loch. 
^a/  art  not!-^Whatf  thau'rt  sure  of 

I33.  That  art  not  what  th'art  sure  of)  Johnson  :  I  fancy  the  line  consists  only 
^  ahrapt  starts :  •  That  art— not  what  ?— Thou*rt  sure  on*t.'  •  That  his  fault  should 
^^^e  a  knave  of  thee  that  art — hut  what  shall  I  say  thou  art  not  ?  Thou  art  then 
^Qre  of  this  marriage^ — Steevens  :  In  Meas.for  Afeas,^  II,  ii,  is  a  passage  so  much 
resembling  this,  that  I  cannot  help  pointing  it  out  for  the  use  of  some  future  com- 
iQeatator,  though  I  am  unable  to  apply  it  with  success  to  the  very  difficult  line  before 
ns:  '  Drest  in  a  little  brief  authority,  Most  ignorant  of  what  h^s  most  assur'd.  His 
glassy  essence.' — Tollet  :  That  b,  <  Thou  art  not  an  honest  man,  of  which  thou  art 
thyself  assured,  but  thou  art,  in  my  opinion,  a  knave  by  thy  master's  fault  alone.' — 
[Knight  substantially  adopts  this  paraphrase.] — M.  Mason  :  A  proper  punctuation, 
with  the  addition  of  a  single  letter,  will  make  this  passage  clear ;  the  reading  sure 
efty  instead  of  *  sure  of*  :  'That  art  not!— What?  thou'rt  sure  oftf'  That  is, 
*  What  ?  are  you  sure  of  what  you  tell  me,  that  he  is  married  to  Octavia  ? ' — Malone  : 
Cleopatra  begins  now  a  little  to  recollect  herself,  and  to  be  ashamed  of  having  struck 
die  servant  for  the  fault  of  his  master.  She  then  very  naturally  exclaims :  '  O,  that 
his  fault  should  make  a  knave  of  thee.  That  art  not  what  thou'rt  sore  of ! '  for  so  I 
would  read,  with  the  change  of  only  one  letter.  '  Alas,  is  it  not  strange,  that  the 
&nlt  of  Antony  should  make  thee  appear  to  me  a  knave,  thee,  that  art  innocent,  and 
art  not  the  cause  of  that  ill  news,  in  consequence  of  which  thou  art  yet  sore  with  my 
Mows ! '  If  it  be  said,  that  it  is  very  harsh  to  suppose  that  Cleopatra  means  to  say 
to  the  Messenger,  that  he  is  not  himself  that  information  which  he  brings,  and  which 
has  now  made  him  smart,  let  the  following  passage  in  Coriolanus  answer  the  objec- 
tion :  '  Lest  you  should  chance  to  whip  your  information^  And  beat  the  messenger 
that  bids  beware  Of  what  is  to  be  dreaded.' — [IV,  vi,  53.]  The  £g3rptian  queen 
has  beaten  her  information.  If  the  old  copy  be  right,  the  meaning  is — '  Strange, 
that  his  fault  should  make  thee  appear  a  knave,  who  art  not  that  information  of  which 
thon  bringest  such  certain  assurance.' — Staunton  observes  that  the  *  simple  change 
[sore'\  proposed  by  Malone  is  more  Shakespearian'  than  Mason's.  Collier  (ed.  i), 
who  follows  the  punctuation  of  M.  Mason  without  changing  *  of '  into  of*t,  admits 
that  the  original  text  is  '  far  from  intelligible.  By  the  words,'  he  continues, 
***  What !  thou'rt  sure  of?  "  Cleopatra  intends  to  inquire  of  the  messenger  once  more, 
whether  he  is  certain  of  the  tidings  he  has  brought.'  In  his  Second  Edition,  how- 
ever. Collier  adopted  Mason's  oft,  but  in  his  Third  Edition  he  returned  to  the 
punctuation  and  reading  of  his  First, — Dyce  {Remarks ,  p.  247) :  M.  Mason's 
punctuation,  with  the  change  of  'of  to  of't,  afforded  at  least  a  sense ;  but  Collier, 
.  .  .  has  made  the  passage  mere  nonsense.  I  should  strongly  protest  against  any 
deviation  from  the  old  eds.  here.  *  That  art  not  what  thou'rt  sure  of  may  mean, 
'That  art  not  the  evil  tidings  of  which  thou  givest  me  such  assurance.' — [Coluer 
did  not  relish  having  his  reading  stigmatised  as  <  mere  nonsense' ;  accordingly  in  his 


I40  THE   TRACED  IE   OF  [actii,  sc.  v. 

[133.  That  art  not  what  th'art  sure  of] 
Second  Edition  he  contrived  in  an  adroit  way  to  say  that  the  Rev.  Mr  Dyce  was  in 
<  somewhat  of  a  dilemma/  a  hideous  imputation  which  flesh  and  blood  could  not  stand ; 
and  so  in  both  of  Dyce's  subsequent  editions,  Dyce  denounced  Collier's  *  discredit- 
able subterfuge/  printing  these  two  words  in  small  capitals,  which  are  always  thus 
supposed  to  sting  like  adders  fanged.  If  it  were  not  ludicrous,  would  it  not  be  humil- 
iating, to  see,  in  the  awful  presence  of  Shakespeare,  wee  atomies  taking  themselves 
so  seriously? — Ed.] — R.  G.  White  (ed.  i)  reads  «That  art  but  what  thou'rt  sure  of,' 
and  thus  explains :  That  is,  being  merely  a  messenger  you  are  to  be  regarded  only 
according  to  the  tenor  of  your  message  .  .  .  The  universal  previous  punctuation  of 
the  passage  makes  it  not  superfluous  to  say,  that  it  is  not  an  optative  exclamation, 
but  a  declaration ;  and  that  <  that  *  in  the  previous  line  is  not  the  oonjunctiony  but  the 
deflnitive  adjective.  Cleopatra,  in  reply  to  the  messenger's  plea,  that  he  only  per- 
forms his  office,  says,  'O  that  [t.  e,  Antony's  marriage],  which  is  his  fault,  should 
make  a  knave  of  thee,  that  art  but  what  thy  tidings  are.' — [White  retained  this  read- 
ing in  his  Second  Exiition,  with  substantially  the  same  paraphrase.] — The  Cowdsn- 
Clarkes  :  That  is,  who  art  not  thyself  that  fault  which  thou  art  so  sure  has  been 
committed.  The  Messenger  has  before  said,  *  I  that  do  bring  the  news  made  not  the 
match,'  and  *  I  have  made  no  fault.' — Hudson  (reading  *  That  art  in  what  thou'rt 
sure  of ') :  That  is,  *sharest  in,  or  art  mixed  up  with,  or  infected  by,  the  message 
which  thou  art  sure  of.'  So  in  I,  ii,  'The  nature  of  bad  news  infects  the  teller,* 
Cleopatra's  idea  seems  to  be,  that  the  Messenger  is  made  a  knave  by  the  knavish 
message  which  he  brings,  and  with  which  he  shows  himself  to  be  in  sympathy  by 
sticking  to  it  so  constantly. — C.  M.  Ingleby  (A':  <&•  Qu,  1885,  VI,  xi,  362)  :  The 
sense  is :  '  that  ought  not  to  be  confounded  with  thy  foul  message,  yet  seemest  to  be 
tarred  with  the  same  brush.' — G.  JoiCEY  (N,  6f*  Qu,  1891,  VII,  xii,  342)  :  Read  : 
'  That  art  not — what  thou  art  sure  of ! '  Is  not  Cleopatra  about  to  say  '  that  art  not 
married'  ?  She  cannot  bring  herself  to  utter  the  (to  her)  detestable  word  again  and 
paraphrases  it  as  above.  The  meaning  would  be,  *  O  that  Anton3r's  knavish  fault  of 
getting  married  should  cause  thee — thee  that  art  not  married — to  be  treated  as  a 
knave.'— Br.  Nicholson  (M  df  Qu.  1892,  VIII,  i,  182) :  I  Uke  it  that  the  author 
meant  that  Cleopatra, — ^lookiug  to  what  she  had  just  done, — would  assume  that  such 
a  knave  was  sure  to  be  whipped  or  carted.  One  must  not  look  for  speech  other  than 
impulsive  from  an  infuriated  woman,  still  less  from  a  Cleopatra  maddened  by  jealous 
rage ;  nor  was  Shakespeare  so  bad  an  imitator  of  nature  as  to  make  her  talk  at  such 
a  time  as  thoughtfully  as  when  debating  what  would  best  set  off  her  charms  when 
robed  as  the  Paphian  queen. — Deiguton  (Old Drama,  ii,  41)  :  Perhaps  'That  art 
no  whit  th'  author  of  '/'.*  i.  e.^  that  you,  who  are  in  nowise  answerable  for  his  fault, 
should  be  made  a  knave  by  it.  This  seems  a  suitable  sense,  and  author  for  *  ait 
sure'  is  no  very  violent  alteration  considering  the  writing  of  the  time  and  the  various 
spellings  of  tlie  word. — Herford:  (With  irony)  that  art  innocent,  forsooth,  of 
offence,  yet  sure  to  offend  1 — [This  line  has  not  proved  very  encouraging  to  those 
who  have  lightheartedly  attempted  to  amend  it  Its  most  popular  emendation  has 
but  five  adherents.  The  original  text  can  be  paraphrased  hardly  better,  I  think, 
than  it  is  by  Dyce  (following  Malone  substantially),  as  quoted  above  in  his  Remarks, 
What  the  messenger  was  sure  of  was  the  ill  tidings.  These  he  himself  assuredly 
was  not,  and  these  it  was  that  Cleopatra  would  like  to  tear  in  pieces  ;  but  as  she  had 
maltreated  him  instead,  all  the  pity  she  could  give  him  was  that  Anthony's  fault  had 
exposed  him  to  the  treatment  of  a  knave. — £d.] 


^er  II,  sc.  v.]       ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  141 

^i^c  Marchandize  which  thou  haft  brought  from  Rome 


c  all  too  deere  for  me:  13S 

e  they  vpon  thy  hand,  and  be  vndone  by  em. 

Char.     Good  your  Highneffe  patience. 

Cleo.     In  prayfing  Anthony^  I  haue  difpraisM  Ccefar. 

Char.     Many  times  Madam. 

CUo.     I  am  paid  for't  now  :  lead  me  from  hence,  140 

faint,  oh  IraSjCharmian  :  'tis  no  matter. 

to  the  Fellow,  good  Alexas  bid  him 
eport  the  feature  of  0£lauia  :  her  yeares,  143 

154.   Marchandize  whuK\  Merchan-  140.   I  am\  Lam  F^. 

which  F,,  Cap.    Merchandi/es  which  fi^^^  f^  *^  Pope,  + ,  Varr.  Mai. 


^,  Rowc    merchandises  FopCf-k- .    Mer-  Ran. 

^^andi/e  which  F^  et  cet.  141.  faint,']    faint;    Rowe   et   seq. 

135,136.  ^r^...^tfif</,]  One  line,  Cap.  (subs.) 

seq.  Channian  .*]  Charmian  ! — Rowe 

136.  em"]  *em  F^F^  et  seq.  et  seq. 

[Exit  Mes.  Kowe  et  seq.  142.  Alexas  Hif}  Alexas,  did  F^F^. 

138.  pi^ayjif^]  praying  F,.  Alexas  ;  bid  Cap.  et  seq. 
140.  Two  lines.  Cap.  Steev.  et  seq. 

136.  em]  The  only  other  instances,  that  I  can  recall  ( Concordances  give  no  help) 

^^f  the  nse  in  the  First  Folio  of  this  abbreviation,  are  in  The  Tempest,  where  Prospero, 

^Kpeaking  of  his  government  in  Naples,  says  *  The  creatures  that  were  mine,  I  say,  or 

^^hang'd  'em,  Or  els  new  fonn'd  'em; '  I,  ii,  99,  100;  and  again,  in  Henry  V:  IV, 

^ii,   124,  where  Henry  dismisses  the  French  Herald  who  had  come  to  demand  a 

^mnsom  from  him,  Henry  replies,  *  They  shall  have  none,  I  swear,  but  these  my 

joints ;  Which  if  they  have  as  I  will  leave  'em  them,  Shall  yield  them  litUe,'  etc., 

"^rhere  the  full  form,  them,  would  be  decidedly  harsh  ;  and  the  reason  for  the  abbre- 

^^risdon  is  plain.     Again,  in  Coriolanus,  H,  iii,  220,  the  First  Citizen  boasts,  'I 

piave]  twice  hundred  [voices]  and  their  friends  to  piece 'em.'     Possibly  this  may 

indicate  the  low  estate  of  the  speaker.     And,  lastly,  we  find  Macbeth  demanding  of 

Che  witches,  '  Call  'em ;  let  me  see  'em.' — IV,  i,  72,  which  may  indicate  his  frenzied 

ampatience.     But  why  this  form  should  be  used  in  the  present  line  and  in  The  Tem» 

^st^  I  do  not  know. — Ed. 

140-143.  I  am  .  .  .  her  yeares]  Walker  {Crit,  iii,  300)  :  Arrange  and  write, 
perhaps, — *  Pm  paid  for't  now. — Lead  me  from  hence,  I  faint ;  |  O,  Iras — Charm- 
ian— 'Tis  no  matter. — Go  |  To  M'  fellow,  good  Alexas;  bid  him  report  |  The 
feature  of  Octavia,  her  years."  | 

143.  Report  the  feature,  etc.]  Grey  (ii,  201)  :  This  is  a  manifest  allusion  to 
the  questions  put  by  Queen  Elizabeth  to  Sir  James  Melvil  concerning  his  mistress 
the  Queen  of  Scots. — [The  MS,  containing  Sir  James  Melvil's  account,  was  not  dis- 
covered until  1660,  and  was  not  published  until  1683.  It  would  not  have  been 
worth  while  to  repeat  this  note  of  Grey,  had  it  not  been  reprinted  in  the  Variorum 
of  /Sj/.'—Ed.] 

143.  feature]  Schmidt  (Lex,)  furnishes  many  examples  where  'feature'  means 
*  the  shape,  make,  exterior,  the  whole  turn  or  cast  of  the  body.' 


142  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  n,  sa  v- 

Her  inclination,  let  him  not  leaue  out 

The  colour  of  her  haire.     Bring  me  word  quickly,  145, 

Let  him  for  euer  go,  let  him  not  Chartman^ 
Though  he  be  painted  one  way  like  a  Gorgon, 
The  other  wayes  a  Mars.     Bid  you  Alexas 
Bring  me  word,  how  tall  flie  is  :  pitty  me  Charmiany 
But  do  not  fpeake  to  me.     Lead  me  to  my  Chamber.  150 

Exeunt. 

146.  go^  let  kim  fM/]  F,.    go^  lei  him  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  SU.  Rife,  DtiL   way  Jki 

not,  FjF^.    go — let  him  not,  Rowe,  4- .  is  a  Varr.    way  h^s  Ran.     vmry  h4^s  d 

go  : — Let  him  not —  Cap.  ct  ccL  (subs.)  Theob.  ii  ct  cet. 

fM/]  go  Gould.  148.  Alexas]    Alexas  [to   Mardian. 

148.   The  other]   Th*  other  Theob.  ii.  Cap.  et  seq. 
+  ,  Slecv.  Var.  *03, '13,  Knt.  i^<^.  Bring    me]     Bring    Pope,+, 

wayes  a]    F,F .      way's  a  F^,  Words. 
Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  i,  Johns.  Cap.  Dyce,  15a  do  not/^ahe]  speak  not  Pope, + . 

146.  Let  him  for  euer  go]  Johnson  :  She  is  now  talking  in  broken  sentences, 
not  of  the  Messenger,  but  of  Antony. — Tyrwuitt  (p.  ii)  :  This,  I  think,  would  be 
more  spirited  thus : — *  Let  him  for  ever  go— let  him — no, — Charmion.' — [Adopted, 
substantially,  by  Rann  and  Wordsworth.] 

146.  let  him  not]  Thiselton  (p.  14)  :  That  is,  hinder  him  not  aeopotra 
noticing  that  Charmian  has  started  to  bid  Alexas  not  to  bring  back  the  Messenger, 
corrects  herself  and  tells  Charmian  not  to  interfere.  The  first  *  him '  in  this  line 
refers  to  the  Messenger;  the  second  to  Alexas. — [Dr  Johnson's  interpretation  seems 
to  me  more  just.  Qeopatra's  thoughts  are  not  here  concerned  with  any  ignoble 
messenger.  It  is  Anthony  from  whom  she  wishes  to  part  *  for  ever,'  who,  though  he 
be  in  one  aspect  like  a  monster,  in  another  he  is  a  god. — Ed.] 

147.  148.  painted  one  way  .  .  .  other  wayes  a  Mars]  Staunton  :  An  allusion 
to  the  '  double '  pictures  in  vogue  formerly,  of  which  Burton  says, — '  they  are  like 
these  double  or  turning  pictures;  stand  before  wch,  you  see  a  fair  maid,  on  the  one  side 
an  ape,  on  the  other  an  owl.' — [Democritus  to  the  Header,  p.  73,  ed.  1651.] — And 
Chapman,  in  All  Fades,  I,  i,  '  But  like  a  cousoning  picture,  which  one  way  Shewes 
like  a  Crowe,  another  like  a  Swanne.' — [Burton  had  once  before  (p.  36)  thus 
referred  to  these  pictures :  *  — and  he,  and  the  rest  are  hypocrites,  ambodexters,  out 
sides,  so  many  turning  pictures,  a  lyon  on  the  one  side,  a  lamb  on  the  other.' — Ed.] 

148.  wayes  a  Mars]  Is  not  this  clearly  a  sophistication  due  to  the  ear  ? — Ed. 
151.  Exeunt]  Mrs.  Jameson  (ii.  139) :  The  pride  and  arrogance  of  the  Egyptian 

queen,  the  blandishment  of  the  woman,  the  unexpected  but  natural  transitions  of 
temper  and  feeling,  the  contest  of  various  passions,  and  at  length — when  the  wild 
hurricane  has  spent  its  fury — the  melting  into  tears,  faintness,  and  languishment,  are 
portrayed  with  the  most  astonishing  power,  and  truth,  and  skill  in  feminine  nature. 
More  wonderful  still  is  the  splendour  and  force  of  colouring  which  is  shed  over  this 
extraordinary  scene.  The  mere  idea  of  an  angry  woman  beating  her  menial  presents 
something  ridiculous  or  disgusting  to  the  mind  ;  in  a  queen  or  a  tragedy  heroine  it  is 
still  more  indecorous ;  yet  this  scene  is  as  far  as  possible  from  the  vulgar  or  the 
comic     Cleopatra  seems  privileged  to  '  touch  the  brink  of  all  we  hate '  with  impunity. 


^^  n.  sc.  vi.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  143 

\Scene  F/.] 

^ourijh.  Enter  Pompey^  at  one  doore  with  Drum  and  Trum- 
pet :  at  another  Ca/ar^  LepiduSj  Anthony^  Enobarbus^  Me- 
cenaSy  Agrippa^  Menas  with  Souldiers  Marching. 
Pom.     Your  Hoftages  I  haue,  fo  haue  you  mine : 
And  we  fliall  talke  before  we  fight.  5 

QE/ar.     Mod  meete  that  firft  we  come  to  words, 

And  therefore  haue  we 

Our  written  purpofes  before  vs  fent, 

Which  if  thou  haft  confidered,  let  vs  know, 

irtwill  tye  vp  thy  difcontented  Sword,  10 

And  carry  backe  to  Cicelie  much  tall  youth. 

That  elfe  muft  perifli  heere. 
Pom.     To  you  all  three. 

The  Senators  alone  of  this  great  worl  d, 

Chiefe  Faflors  for  the  Gods.     I  do  not  know,  1 5 

Wherefore  my  Father  fhould  reuengers  want, 

Hauing  a  Sonne  and  Friends,  fince  lulius  Ca/arj 

Who  at  PhilHppi  the  good  Brutus  ghofted,  1 8 

Scene  IV.  Rowe.     Scene  VI.  Pope  et  6,  7.  that  firft „.kaue  we\  One  line, 

Rowe  et  seq. 
The  Coast  of  Italy  near  Misenum.  9.  confidered '\    consider* d   Pope  et 

seq. 


I-105.  Om.  Gar.  Kemblc.  10.  */zw7/]  it  will  ¥^, 

I.  FlonrUh.]  Om.  Ff.  12.  mufi']  much  F,. 

Pompey,]   Pompy^   F^.     Pompey  15.  Gods,  I'\  gods^ — /Theob.  Warb. 

and  Menas,  Rowe  et  seq.  et  seq.  (subs. ) 

3.  Menas]  Om.  Rowe  et  seq.  17.  Friends,"]  friends ;  Rowe  et  seq. 

This  imperial  termagant,  this  *  wrangling  queen,  whom  every  thing  becomes/  becomes 
her  fury.  We  know  not  by  what  strange  power  it  is,  that  in  the  midst  of  all  these 
muroly  passions  and  childish  caprices,  the  poetry  of  the  character,  dnd  the  fanciful 
and  sparkling  grace  of  the  delineation  are  sustained  and  still  rule  in  the  imagination  ; 
tnit  we  feel  that  it  is  so. 

3.  Meoas]  Collier  :  In  the  Folios,  Menas  is  inserted  as  if  he  were  one  of  the 
firiends  and  followers  of  Caesar. — [Rowe  made  the  change.     See  Text.  Notes,] 

II.  much  tall  youth]  Gippord  remarks:  There  is  scarcely  a  writer  of  Jonson's 
age  who  docs  not  frequently  use  *  tall '  in  the  sense  of  bold  or  courageous. — Every 
Man  in  his  Humour,  IV,  v,  p.  124. — [See  *  tall  fellow  of  his  hands.' — H^int,  Tale, 
V,  ii,  164  of  the  present  edition.] 

18.  ghosted]  Bradley  (N.E.D,  2,  trans,)  :  To  haunt  as  an  apparition. — [The 
present  is  the  earliest  instance.  The  next  is  from  Burton,  *  Ask  not  with  him  in  the 
Poet .  .  .  What  madness  ghosts  this  old  man,  but  what  madness  ghosts  us  all  ? ' — 
p.  19,  ed.  162 1 ;  p.  22,  ed.  165 1.] 


144 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  n,  sc.  vL 


There  faw  you  labouring  for  him.     What  was't 

That  mou'd  pale  CaJJius  to  confpire  ?  And  what 

Made  all-honored,  honeft,  Romaine  Brutus^ 

With  the  arm'd  reft,  Courtiers  of  beautious  freedome, 

To  drench  the  CapitoU,  but  that  they  would 

Haue  one  man  but  a  man,  and  that  his  it 

Hath  made  me  rigge  my  Nauie.     At  whofe  burthen, 

The  angered  Ocean  fomes,  with  which  I  meant 

To  fcourge  th'ingratitude ,  that  defpightfull  Rome 

Caft  on  my  Noble  Father. 

Cce/ar.     Take  your  time. 

AnL     Thou  can'ft  not  feare  vs  Pompey  with  thy  (ailes. 


20 


25 


30 


19.  for  Aim"]  for  me  F  F^,  Rowc.  for 
him   Han. 

wetit'\    Ff,   Rowe,   Cap.    Sing. 
Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  Sta.  was  it  Pope  et  cet. 

20.  confpire ?'\  conspire;  Dyce,  Glo. 
conspire^  Cam. 

20,  21.  fe/A<2/... Brutus]  One  line,  Var. 
'78,  *85,  Mai.  Ran. 

21.  Made'\  Var.  '78,  '85,  Mai.  Knt, 
Coll.  i,  Hal.  Mad  the  F,.  Made  thee 
Pope,  Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Alade  the 
FjF^  ct  cet. 

all-honor' d'\  all-honoured  QoW.  i, 
Del. 


22.  Courtiers'^  couriers  Theob.  oonj. 
(Nichols,  Illust.  withdrawn.)  Han. 
beautious'\  beauteous  F  F^. 

24.  one  man  but  a  man,j  Ff.  on£ 
man  but  a  man  /  Rowe.  but  one  m4xn, 
a  man  ;  Pope.  One  man,  but  a  man  t 
Theob.  i.  one  man,  but  a  man  t  Theob. 
ii,  Warb.  Johns.  Var.  ^73.  one  man  hut 
a  man  /Han.  et  cet. 

his'\  is  Yi  et  seq. 

27.  defpightfull  1  despiteful  Han.  i, 
Steev.  ct  seq. 

30.  failes.'\  sails,  Rowe. 


19.  There  saw  3rou  labouring  for  him]  Hudson:  That  is,  Julius  Caesar,  after 
his  death,  saw  you  his  son  and  friends  labouring  for  his  revenge  at  Philippi ;  there- 
fore I  know  no  reason  why  my  father  should  want  revengers,  as  he  has  also  a  son 
and  friends  surviving  him. 

20.  pale  Cassius]  '  Casar  also  had  Cassius  in  great  gealousie,  and  suspected  him 
much  :  whereuppon  he  sayed  on  a  time  to  his  friends,  what  will  Cassius  doe,  thinke 
ye?  I  like  not  his  pale  looks.' — North's  Plutarch  :  Julius  Cesar,  p.  787,  ed.  1595 
(Leo's  Photolithograph\ 

2$,  CapitoU]  Craik  {/ul.  Cas,  H,  i,  77)  :  As  an  historical  fact,  the  meeting  of 
the  Senate  at  which  Caesar  was  assassinated  was  held,  not  in  the  Capitol,  but  in  the 
Curia  in  which  the  statue  of  Pompey  stood,  being,  as  Plutarch  tells  us,  one  of  the 
edifices  which  Pompey  had  built,  and  had  given,  along  with  his  famous  Theatre,  to 
the  public.  The  mistake  is  found  also  in  Hamlet,  IH,  ii,  and  [here  in  Ant,  ^ 
Cleop,\ 

24.  one  man  but  a  man]  Theobald  :  That  is,  they  would  have  no  One  aim  at 
arbitrary  power,  and  a  degree  of  preheminence  above  the  rest.  What  did  they  kill 
Caesar  for,  but  to  prevent  his  aspiring  above  his  Fellow  Countrymen  ? 

30.  Thou  can'st  not  feare  vs]  Johnson  :  Thou  canst  not  affiight  us  with  thy 
numerous  navy. 


ACT  11,  sc.  vi.]       ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  145 

W'e^le  fpeake  with  thee  at  Sea.     At  land  thou  knoVft  31 

How  much  we  do  o're-count  thee. 

J^om.     At  Land  indeed 
THou  doft  ore  count  me  of  my  Fatherrs  houfe  : 
^ut  fince  the  Cuckoo  buildes  not  for  himfelfe,  35 

R-exnaine  in't  as  thou  maift. 

Lepi.     Be  pleasM  to  tell  vs, 
V^or  this  is  from  the  prefent  how  you  take) 
The  offers  we  haue  fent  you. 

Cafar.     There^s  the  point.  40 

Ant.     Which  do  not  be  entreated  too , 
But  waigh  what  it  is  worth  imbracM 
Ca/ar.     And  what  may  follow  to  try  a  larger  Fortune.  43 

31.   Weele/peake\  HV rf  wraJk  Gould.  41,  42.    fVAicA  ...watg'AI  One  line, 

54.  PatAerrs]  F,.  Rowe  et  seq. 

38.  (For  ...  iake)'\    (For  ...  now  you  41.  too]toY{, 

tmike)  "Fi  (subs.),  Rowe,  Pope.     (For  42.   imbrac'd']   embracing  Wray  ap. 

tiis  is  from  the  present )  how  you  take  Cam. 

Theob.  et  seq.  (subs.)  43.  And.. .Fortune"]  Two  lines,  Rowe 

prefent]  purpose  Daniel.  et  seq. 

39.  offers]  offer  Han.  Dyce  ii,  iii.  follow]  follow  F^. 
you.]  you —  Rowe,  Pope,  Han. 

31.  Weele  speake  with  thee]  See  '  Would  we  had  spoke  together/  II,  ii,  194. 

34.  Thou  dost  ore  count  me,  etc.]  Capbll  (i,  35)  :  <0'er-count'  in  this  speech 
is  a  pcnrersion  of  that  [in  Anthony's  speech,  line  32] ;  for  where  Antony  meant, — 
orer-number,  this  speaker  means,— over- reach. — [See  Plutarch,  Appendix.] 

35*  3^-  since  the  Cuckoo  .  .  .  Remaine,  etc.]  Capell  (i,  35)  :  Where  is  the 
pn^niety  of  bidding  Antony  stay  in  this  house,  '  since  the  cuckoo  builds  not  for  him- 
s^f  f^  the  only  solution  of  it  is, — that  'tis  one  of  those  half- worded  speeches,  that 
purposely  left  incomplete,  and  to  be  made  out  by  the  understanding  of  the  p>arty 
s'd  to:  what  is  wanting  to  perfect  this  speech,  is  contain' d  in  the  following 
paraphrase ; — But,  since  providence  suffers  the  cuckoo  to  use  a  nest  that  is  not  of 
his  building,  (I  too  must  submit  to  a  like  dispensation  ;  and  so)  *■  remain  in'ty  as  thou 
tmayst^*  keep  the  house  you  have  seiz'd  upon  how  you  can. — ^Johnson  :  Since  like 
the  cnckoo,  that  seizes  the  nests  of  other  birds,  you  have  invaded  a  house  which  you 
oould  not  build,  keep  it  while  you  can. — [Dr  Johnson  once  said  that  if  Capell  had 
only  come  to  him  he  would  have  '  endowed  his  purposes  with  words.' — Ed.] 

38.  from  the  present]  Steevens  :  That  is,  foreign  to  the  object  of  our  present 
discussion. — [For  many  examples  where  *  from*  means  apart  from  ^  away  from^  with- 
out a  Terb  of  motion,  see  Abbott,  §  158.] 

42.  it  is  worth  imbrac'd]  It  is  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  the  omission 
of  a  full  stop  after  'imbrac'd'  is  intentional,  and  indicates  that  Oesar  in  his  eager- 
ness intenrupts  Anthony.  That  Csesar  begins  his  sentence  with  '  and '  adds  a  faint 
tioge  of  probability  to  this  doubtful  surmise.  Where  we  have  an  undoubted  inter- 
nation,  as  in  line  87,  the  dash  is  portentous. — Ed. 
xo 


146  THE  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  n.  sc.  n. 

Pimu    Yoa  hane  made  me  oficr 
Of  Gcdie,Sardiiiia  :  and  I  muft  45 

Rid  all  tbe  Sea  of  Pirats.    Tben,to  fend 
Meafures  of  Whcate  to  Rome  :  this  greed  vpoo. 
To  part  with  vnhackt  ec^es,and  beare  backe 
Our  Tafges  vndmted. 

Omuus.    That's  our  oficr.  50 

Bcnm.     Know  then  I  came  before  yoa  heen^ 
A  man  prepared 

To  take  this  oficr.     ^vX  Mark€  AmAot^^ 
Put  me  to  fome  impatience  :  though  I  loofe 
The  praife  of  it  by  telling.     You  muft  kuow  55 

When  Ot/ar  and  irour  Brother  were  at  Uowes, 
Your  Mother  came  to  Gcelieyand  cfid  finde 


44-   Yimhmmf\  rjm7it¥kipt^^,I>30t  atq. 
S»m-  $1-53-  J 

45.   Ga&Jl  F^  wmmm — rfata^  Itowe. 

47. /-»«/]  F^H«LIKaE,k*/raB/  54./W]/WrHn. 

TjF^  tAcA.  55.  AsQb^.    >Vv]   FI;   Rove.  Sof- 

49.   Tij^w]  Sviea  F^,  Rove.    £vjr  ttSSt^,'  yum  Ftpt^  ~~  ~' 

ftpc-,  OpL  ¥«•-  *73,  Seerr.  Var.  'c^.  TSKaix  el  sq. 

5Ql  Okbcs.]  Cjbs.  AaL  LepL  Cap^  <£ 


47.  CT^ed]  It  is  act  aecessarr  s  m  aodenued  tex:  to  pciai  dus  ''gretd;  k  ii  a 

:,  r.\aa  «:^edxed  ixa  c^tbe  Tstw  «r^K.  ia  ue  fraa  1^  tine  of  Wvcfit     See  II, 
i,  $o:  Mt^,  if  Tr*.  IL  fi,  07. — Etl 

49.  Oar  Targes  YSkdxafied^  Wjlixxil  (  #V=.  353)  :  FdfHLblj  imr^.  pKTkoe 
die  azKissrccbe  xuks  aa  abcrenaaed  pjsal.  !Ike  mbbuxt*,  aK^^i^iBBar^ ;  aad  so  vole 
n  iLjrviEnAaaf.  ^  •  ▼<  5*'-^*  ^Acc  itospc  tis^cs  cc  prooK^  ^  iiiiacil  be  nand.*  T^rgt  ni 
tbe  &:^:£:at  wx^i  k-c  ^  Eliubechu  Ea^-xifSi.  [Of  this  lasc  remavk  of  Walker, 
Dtcx  .ed.  u  »Ts]  I  jca  ac<  s=e  t^xsi  I  rroefl^aad  Pai'-.^lMt  oonsare  Ae  fbl- 
Icvi:^  passages  oc  Chsp^^i:=.'s  Sifme^ : — *As  froia  b^  c^xaxxiC  be  leapC  doviie, 
l«9n:b  bis  zcrry  cf  Veasae.'— .TSoi;  K  li.  r.  i5Ci.ei.  FcB^;  •  Aad  (witb  bb  lave) 
socofc?  thsv-c^b  tb?  Z£r^  <£  tbai  bnas  Lraaa  k:2^." — BL  r^  pu  167  ;  *  Whb  svoid 
aai  ace  ther  rex:  ix  ibes:  ^>eur  rr-j-^  i^Bg^T  rgcad,' — 5L  la,  p^  16S.  la  a  nole  oa 
ibe  ^iae  »  i^ic/viav  Mr  Siis^er  ^ Sax£fr3krx*?«  ei.  1S56  obserres:  'Tbe  planl 
tar^  ^c-ts&  tc"  bare  Snx  Jocxaerhr  a  i&:o»7!la^e  ^jay/i]^  as  in  Frrwb,  vbcie  its 
cloess  fc^cs  b  £f  •vacrr-/  T^ii  C:;arrr.6T  n  JeafC  oi  ?»oe  vse  it  as  a  noBOfijOable  ii 
siK-mT.  >T  lb?  tbirvi  cc  ibe  passant*  ^asc  otai  frcna  bcs  Hamr^. — [HnssoK  adopted 


*--] 


55   br  trTHTi£.  Tec  xnitst  kziov^  Tht.'*&jli^'s  txsiSjBKH  resaoRtioB  of  die 
TaaDcn  revejus  tbc  mrtTim^  of  *  Y^o:  sssc  kacir.'  vbkk  is  /  mms!  i^I yi§m^  aad 

ac£  be  ar  naaS  kar  Jitam  .o^.^rt  £«ran«  2f  tuau. 


-4CX  n,  sc.  vL]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 

H^r  welcome  Friendly. 

^^AnU     I  haue  heard  it  Potnpey^ 
-'^-^^d  am  well  ftudied  for  a  liberall  thanks, 
'^^lich  I  do  owe  you. 

^om.     Let  me  haue  your  hand  : 
^    ^3id  not  thinke  Sir,  to  haue  met  you  heere, 

Ant.     The  beds  i'th'Eafl  are  foft,  and  thanks  to  you, 
*^*liat  calM  me  timelier  then  my  purpofe  hither  : 
^^r  I  haue  gained  by^t. 

Cafar.   Since  I  faw  you  laft,  ther's  a  change  vpon  you. 
Pom.     Well,  I  know  not, 
"M^hat  counts  harfh  Fotune  call's  vpon  my  face. 
But  in  my  bofome  (hall  fhe  neuer  come. 
To  make  my  heart  her  vaffaile. 
Lep.     Well  met  heere. 

Pant.     I  hope  fo  LepiduSj  thus  we  are  agreed  : 
I  craue  our  compofion  may  be  written 
And  feal'd  betweene  vs, 

Ca/ar.    That's  the  next  to  do. 
Pom.    Weele  feaft  each  other,  ere  we  part,  and  lett's 
Draw  lots  who  fhall  begin. 
Ant.    That  will  I  Pompey. 
Pompey.     No  Anthony  take  the  lot  :  but  firft  or  laft , 


147 
58 

60 


6S 


70 


75 


80 


63.  [They  take  hands.  Coll.  ii. 

65.  7*i*tf/]  KwV^  Words. 

66.  I  haue,„byt'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Cap. 
Dyce,  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Sta.     rve,,,by  it 

i,+.     /  have.,,  by  it  Var.  '73   et 


67.  Two    lines,    ending    last ...  you 
Howe  et  seq. 

thef^s\    F,.     tktris    F^F^,   Sing. 
Then  is  Rowe  et  cet. 

69.  €CUHis\  change  Gould. 

harpi\  hard  F^F^,  Rowe,  + ,  Var. 

•73. 

FotuHe'\  F,. 

70.  Jhall Jhe'\Jhe JhallY ^ ^^  Rowe,+, 
Var.  »73. 


71.  hervaJfa%U'\avaJfaileY^,  avajfal 
FjF^,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han. 

74.  compofi(m\  compofition  Ff. 
tnay'\  my  F^. 

77.  Utt'i\  let  us  Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Ran. 
Steev.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Hal. 

78.  lots^  lots  f  Pope  i. 

79.  will  /]  /  will  Theob.  ii,  Warb. 
Johns.  Var.  '73. 

80-82.  No,„there'\  Ff,  Sta.  Lines 
end,  lot :  ...  cookery  ...  Casar  ...  there, 
Rowe,  +  ,  Cam.  Ktly.  first.,. cookery,., 
Oesar,,, there.  Cap.  Glo.  et  cet 

80.  No'l  No,  noble  Cap. 
Anthony]  Antony ^  no;  Words. 
take"]  take  we  Steev.  conj. 


60.  a  liberall  thanks]  We  still  say,  a  hundred  thanks,  or  a  thousand  thanks, 
69.  What  counts  harsh  Fotune  cast's]  Warburton  :  Metaphor  from  making 
marks  or  lines  in  casting  accounts  in  arithmetic. 
76.  That's  the  next  to  do]  See  Abbott,  §  405,  for  ellipses  after  will  and  is. 


148  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  vi. 

your  fine  Egyptian  cookerie  (hall  haue  the  fame,  I  haue  8i 

heard  that  lulius  Ca/ar^gve:vf  fat  with  feafting  there, 

Anth.     You  haue  heard  much. 

Pom.     I  haue  faire  meaning  Sir. 

Ant,     And  faire  words  to  them.  85 

Pom.    Then  fo  much  haue  I  heard, 
And  I  haue  heard  Appolodorus  carried 

Eno.     No  more  that  :  he  did  fo. 

Pom.     What  I  pray  youf 

Eno.    A  certaine  Queene  to  Ca/ar  in  a  Matris.  90 

81.  I  haue\  /V^Pope,  +  ,  Dyceii,  iii.  86.  heartit'\  heard,  or  heard :  Pope  et 

84.  meaning]  meanings  Heath,  Var.  seq.     heard,  Mark  Antony,  Elze. 
'Ssctscq.  %%.  more  that]  Y^,    more  of  that  Y ^ ^ 

85.  them]  it  Han.  et  seq. 

86, 87.  Then,.,ha$ie  heard]  One  line,  90.  Matris]  Materiee  Ff,  Rowe.  snat* 

Cap.  ress  Pope. 

84.  meaning]  Heath  :  The  reply  makes  it  evident  we  should  read,  meanings. 

87.  Appolodorus  carried]  Ctrsar  .  .  .  thenipon  secretly  sent  for  Cleopatra  which 
was  in  the  country  to  come  vnto  him.  She  only  taking  Apollodorus  SiciUAN  of  all 
her  friends,  tooke  a  litle  bote,  &  went  away  with  him  in  it  in  the  night,  and  came 
and  landed  hard  by  the  foote  of  the  castle.  Then  hauing  no  other  mean  to  come 
into  the  court  without  being  knowen,  she  laid  herselfe  down  ypon  a  mattresse  or 
flockbed,  which  Apollodorus  her  friend  tied  and  bound  vp  together  like  a  bundle 
with  a  great  leather  thong,  &  so  tooke  her  vp  on  his  backe,  and  brought  her  thus 
hamperd  in  this  fardle  vnto  Oxsar,  in  the  casde  gate. — North's  Plutarch  :  Julius 
Casar,  p.  781,  ed.  1 5 95  (Lco*s  Photolithograph) . 

88.  Eno.  No  more  that  :  he  did  so]  Orger  (p.  98)  :  It  is  hard  to  under- 
stand what  Enobarbus  can  mean  by  trying  to  suppress  a  topic  by  the  words,  '  no 
more  of  that,'  and  then  continuing  to  narrate  it.  It  seems  as  if  there  is  a  faulty  dis- 
tribution of  parts.  In  the  next  scene,  line  9,  the  senrant  describes  Lepidus,  *  He 
cries  out,  "  no  more,"  reconciles  them  to  his  entreaty,  and  himself  to  the  drink,' 
which  justifies  us  in  supposing  that  it  is  he  who  endeavours  to  stifle  the  scandal,  and 
we  sliould  divide  as  follows : — *  Lepidus.  No  more  of  that.  Eno.  He  did  so.  [euide 
to  Pompey.]* — [I  think  it  is  not  impossible  to  imagine  the  action  here.  Pompey's 
allusion  to  *  fine  £g3rptian  cookery '  is  unfortunate,  especially  when  he  speaks  of  it  to 
Anthony  who  is  just  married  to  Octavia;  but  his  next  reference  to  Julius  Caesar  and 
his  feasting  is  worse.  Anthony  tries  to  stop  him  by  saying  *  you've  heard  altogether 
too  much.'  Thereupon  Pompey  blunders  still  further  by  asserting  that  he  really  did 
not  mean  anything  bad,  that  he  had  fair  meanings.  '  Then,'  retorts  Anthony,  'see 
that  you  put  them  in  fair  words.'  But  Pompey's  ill-timed  references  are  not  yet 
ended,  *  bad  is  begun  but  worse  remains  behind,' — he  refers  to  Cleopatra's  first  love- 
affair.  Hereupon  Enobarbus  takes  in  the  situation,  and,  instantly  silencing  Pompey, 
sa3r8  aside  to  him,  '  Hush,  no  more  of  that ! '  adding  '  3rou  are  quite  right, — Apollo- 
dorus did  so.'  *  What  ?  '  asks  the  bewildered  Pompey,  who  then  recognises  Eno- 
barbus. And  thereafter  the  dialogue  continues  without  obstruction.  Anthony  had 
evidently  turned  away  abruptly  ;  he  does  not  speak  again  during  the  scene. — Ed.] 


ACT  II,  sc.  vi.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  149 

Pom.     I  know  thee  now,  how  far'ft  thou  Souldier  ?  91 

Eno.     Well,  and  well  am  like  to  do,  for  I  perceiue 
Foure  Feafts  are  toward. 

Pom.     Let  me  fhake  thy  hand, 
I  neuer  hated  thee  :  I  haue  feene  thee  fight,  95 

When  I  haue  enuied  thy  behauiour. 

Enob.    Sir,  I  neuer  lou'd  you  much,  but  I  ha'praisM  ye. 
When  you  haue  well  deferu'd  ten  times  as  much. 
As  I  haue  faid  you  did. 

Pom.     Inioy  thy  plainnefle,  lOO 

It  nothing  ill  becomes  thee  : 
Aboord  my  Gaily,  I  inuite  you  all. 
Will  you  leade  Lords  ? 

All.     Shew's  the  way,  fir. 

Pom.     Come.  Exeunt.  Manet  Enob  .&  Menas       105 

Men.     Thy  Father  Pompey  would  ne^re  haue  made  this 
Treaty.     You,  and  I  haue  knowne  fir. 

Enob.     At  Sea,  I  thinke. 

Men.     We  haue  Sir. 

Enob.     You  haue  done  well  by  water.  no 

Men.     And  you  by  Land. 

Enob.     I  will  praife  any  man  that  will  praife  me,  thogh         1 12 

91.  [To  iEnob.  Han.  104.  All.]  Caes.  Ant.  Lcp.     Cap. 

92.  and.,.perceiiie\  One  line,  Theob.  Shtvf5\  Yiy  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob. 
et  seq.                                                                 Warb.  Johns,    shew  us  or  sAaw  us  Han. 

97.  /  Htu^r„.ye'}  One  line,  Pope  ct        ct  cet. 


106.  Men.]  Men.  [Aside]  Johns,  et 

ha'frais'dye'\  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Dyce,  seq. 

Glo.  Cam.    ha'praii^dyou  Wh.  i.    have  this'\  Om.  F^F^,  Rowe. 

prated  ye  ^\A,  Hal,     have  prai^ d you  107.   You.,. fir. '\  Separate  line,  Pope, 

Cap.  et  cet  +,  Varr.  Ran.  Ktly. 

loa  Inioy'\  Enjoy  Pope.  [To  Mnoh.  Han. 

loi.  thee:'\  thee.  Cap.  et  seq.  110-125.  Om.  Gar. 

102,  Aboord'\  A-boardY^.  1 12.  thogh'\  F,. 

97.  ha'prais'd  ye]  Abbott  (§  236)  ;  Sometimes  ye  seems  put  for  you  when  an 
unaccented  syllable  is  wanted  [as  here]. 

107.  You,  and  I  haue  knowne  sir]  Steevens:  That  is,  been  acquainted. — 
Abbott  (§  382)  :  The  Elizabethan  authors  objected  to  scarcely  any  ellipsis,  provided 
the  deficiency  could  be  easily  supplied  from  the  context.  Thus  here  :  *  You  and  I 
have  known  (one  another),  sir.' 

112.  I  will  praise  any  man  that  will  praise  me]  Warburton  :  The  poet's  art 
in  deliTering  this  humorous  sentiment  (which  gives  so  very  true  and  natural  a  pic- 
ture of  the  conmierce  of  the  world)  can  never  be  sufficiently  admired.  The  con- 
fcBion  could  come  from  none  but  a  frank  and  rough  character,  like  the  speaker's : 


ISO 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  n,  sc 


it  cannot  be  denied  what  I  haue  done  by  Land. 

Men.     Nor  what  I  haue  done  by  water. 

Enob.  Yes  fome-thing  you  can  deny  for  your  owne 
fafety  :  you  haue  bin  a  great  Theefe  by  Sea. 

Men.    And  you  by  Land. 

Enob.  There  I  deny  my  Land  feruice  :.but  giue  mee 
your  hand  MenaSy  if  our  cyts  had  authority,  heere  they 
might  take  two  Theeues  kifTmg. 

Men.    All  mens  faces  are  true^  whatfomere  their  hands 


II 


119 


120 


are. 

Enob. 
Face. 

Men. 

Enob. 

Men. 


But  there  is  neuer  a  fayre  Woman,  ha's  a  true 


No  flander,  they  fteale  hearts. 
We  came  hither  to  fight  with  you. 
For  my  part,  I  am  forry  it  is  tum'd  to  a  Drink- 
ing.    Pompey  doth  this  day  laugh  away  his  Fortune. 
Enob.     If  he  do,  fure  he  cannot  weep't  backe  againe. 
Men.     Y'haue  faid  Sir,  we  look'd  not  for  Marke  An- 
thony heere,  pray  you,  is  he  married  to  Cleopatra  ? 
Enob.     Ccefars  Sifter  is  callM  OSlauia. 
Men.     True  Sir,  ftie  was  the  wife  of  Caius  Marcellus. 
Enob.     But  fhe  is  now  the  wife  of  Marcus  Anthonius. 
Men.     Pray'ye  fir. 


1 25 


130 


135 


115.  /ome'thing\  fomething  F  . 

116.  bin\  been  F^. 
great'\  good  Yiy  Rowc. 

1 19.  our\  your  F^,  Rowe. 

120.  take'\  have  F^F^,  Rowe. 

121.  what/omere'\whai/oere¥^.what- 
some'er  Glo.  Rife,  Dtn,  Wh.  ii.  wkat/o- 
e're  F^F^,  Cam.  et  cct.  (subs.) 

123.  neuer\  nire  F^F^,  Rowe,  +  . 
ha^s\  ¥(.     kas  Rowe. 

125.  flander^  slander  ^ —  Theob. 
Warb.     slander;  Cap.  ct  seq. 

129.  weepW\  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Sing.  Dyce, 
Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Sta.  Ktly.  wee/f  U  Cap. 
et  ceL 


130.  Y'haue^  Vkave  Ft  You've 
Rowe, +  ,  Sing.  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  Sta. 
Ktly.   Y'ave  Wh.   You  have  Cap.  ctceL 

Sir^'\  Yi,     sir;  Rowe,  +  .     sir. 
Cap.  et  seq. 

131.  heere ^  here ;  Rowe  et  seq. 

133.  Sir^  sir  ;  Cap.  et  seq.  (subs.) 

1 34.  Jhe  is  now]  now/he  is  F^F^,  Rowe, 
+  ,  Cap.  Van.  Ran. 

135.  Pra/ye  Jir.]  Pray  ye  Sir.  F,. 
Pray  ye.  Sir.  F^F^,  Rowe.  Pray  you, 
sir, —  Cap.  Pray  you,  sir?  Varr.  Mai. 
Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Coll.  Wh.  Pray  ye. 
Sir?  Pope,  + ,  Sing.  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  Sta. 
Hal.  Ktly. 


and  the  moral  lesson  insinuated  under  it,  that  flattery  can  make  its  way  through  the 
most  stubborn  manners,  deserves  our  serious  reflection. 

121.  All  mens  faces  are  true]  Compare,  *  There's  no  art  To  find  themind*s  con- 
atraction  in  the  face.' — Macbeth,  I,  iv,  1 1. 

125.  No  slander]  Collucr  :  That  is,  what  you  say  is  no  slander ;  they  steal  hearts. 


ACT  n,  sc.  vi.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  151 

Enob.     'Tis  true.  136 

Men.    Then  is  Cafar  and  he,  for  euer  knit  together. 

Enob.  If  I  were  bound  to  Diuine  of  this  vnity,  I  wold 
not  Prophefie  fo. 

Men.     I  thinke  the  policy  of  that  purpofe,  made  more        140 
in  the  Marriage,  then  the  loue  of  the  parties . 

Enob.  I  thinke  fo  too.  But  you  (hall  finde  the  band 
tiiat  feemes  to  tye  their  friendfliip  together,  will  bee  the 
very  ftrangler  of  their  Amity  :  06lauia  is  of  a  holy,  cold, 
and  (till  conuerfation.  145 

Men.     Who  would  not  haue  his  wife  fo  ? 

Eno.  Not  he  that  himfelfe  is  not  fo  :  which  is  Marke 
Jbtthony :  he  will  to  his  Egyptian  di(h  againe  :  then  (hall 
the  fighes  of  06lauia  blow  the  fire  vp  in  Ccefar^  and  (  as  I 
faid  before)  that  which  is  the  ftrength  of  their  Amity,  150 
Ihall  proue  the  immediate  Author  of  their  variance.  An- 
thony will  vfe  his  affeflion  where  it  is,  Hee  married  but 
his  occafion  heere. 

Men.  And  thus  it  may  be.  Come  Sir,  will  you  aboord? 
I  haue  a  health  for  you.  155 

Enob.     I  (hall  take  it  fir  :  we  haue  vs'd  our  Throats  in 
Egypt 

Men.     Come,  let's  away.  Exeunt.  158 

\yj ,  together,'\  together ?  Qx^.  \\,  \^\.  aboord'\  a-boordY ^.    a-boardY ^, 

140.  policy\  poliey  F^.  aboard  Rowe. 

\^i^  Jlrangler\ftrangerYi,   estranger  155.  I,,. healt h']  IVe have  healths  Gzx. 

Rowe.  156.  it^  'em  Gar. 

150.  Amity\  unity  Elze. 

137.  Then  is  Csesar  and  he,  for  euer  knit  together.]  Collier  (ed.  ii) :  We 
point  this  line  with  a  note  of  interrogation,  because  Menas  must  intend  to  ask  the 
question,  whether  it  be  so ;  if  not,  he  contradicts  himself  in  his  next  speech,  where 
he  asserts  that  the  union  was  one  of  more  convenience  than  love.  He  asks  Eno- 
barbus  whether  Csesar  and  Anthony  are  for  ever  united  by  the  marriage,  and  Eno- 
barbus  replies  in  the  negative,  which  Menas  immediately  confirms  by  his  opinion, 
'  I  think,  the  policy  of  that  purpose,'  etc. — [In  his  Third  Edition^  Collier  aban- 
doned this  note  of  interrogation.] 

145.  conuersation]  Murray  {N.E.D,  6):  Manner  of  conducting  oneself  in 
the  world  or  in  society;  behaviour,  mode  of  life.  1552  Bk,  Com,  Prayer,  Ordin, 
Piref.,  'A  man  of  vertuous  conuersation,  and  wythoute  cryme.'  l6xi  Bible,  Ps,  I, 
33 :  To  him  that  ordereth  his  conuersation  aright 

153.  occasion]  Schmidt  {Lex.  s.  v,  4)  Need,  want,  necessity. 


152 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  u,  sc.  viL 


{Scene  ^//.] 

Mufocke  playcs. 
Enter  two  or  three  Seruants  with  a  Banket. 

I  Heere  they^l  be  man  :  fome  o'th'their  Plants  are  ill 


Scene  V.  Rowe.  Scene  VII.  Pope 
et  seq.  Om.  Kemble. 

Pompey's  Galley.  Rowe.  Under  a 
Pavilion  on  Deck,  a  Banquet  set  out.  Cap. 

2.  Banket]  Banquet.  F^F^. 

3  etc.  i]  I  ser.  Rowe. 


3.  they  I  be  man]  they  eome  Gar. 
be  man  :]  F,.     be^  mam  F  F  .     6e 
anon  Lloyd  (A^.  <5r*  Qu,  VII,  xi,  82.) 
o'th'/heir]  &  their  Ff. 
l,^.  ill  rooted]    ill-rooied  Var.  '73. 
unrooted  Gould. 


2.  Enter,  etc.]  Frkytag  (p.  235) :  One  of  the  most  beautiful  ensemble  scenes  of 
Shakespeare  is  the  [present]  banquet  scene.     It  contains  no  chief  part  of  the  action, 
and  is  essentially  a  situation  scene,  a  thing  not  occurring  frequently  in  the  tragic  part 
of  the  action  in  Shakespeare.     But  it  receives  a  certain  significance,  because  it  is 
at  the  close  of  the  Second  Act,  and  also  stands  in  a  place  demanding  eminence, 
especially  in  this  piece,  in  which  the  preceding  political  explanations  make  a  varie- 
gated and  animated  picture  very  desirable.     The  abundance  of  little  characterising 
traits  which  are  united  in  this  scene,  their  close  condensation,  above  all,  the  technical 
arrangement,  are  admirable.     The  Scene  is  introduced  by  a  short  conversation  among 
servants,  as  is  frequently  the  case  in  Shakespeare,  in  order  to  ptrovide  for  the  setting 
of  the  tables  and  the  arrangement  of  the  furniture  on  the  stage.     The  Scene  itself  is 
in  three  parts.     The  first  part  presents  the  haughty  utterances  of  the  reconciled  Tri- 
umvirs and  the  pedantry  of  the  drunken  simpleton,  Lepidus,  to  whom  the  servants 
have  already  referred ;  the  second,  in  terrible  contrast,  is  the  secret  interview  of 
Pompey  and  Menas ;  the  third,  introduced  by  the  bearing  out  of  the  drunken  Lepidus, 
is  the  climax  of  the  wild  Bacchanalia  and  rampant  drunkenness.     The  connecting 
of  the  three  parts,  as  Menas  draws  Pompey  aside,  as  Pompey  again  in  the  company 
of  Lepidus,  resuming,  continues  the  carouse,  is  quite  worthy  of  notice.     Not  a  word 
in  the  whole  Scene  is  without  its  use  and  significance ;  the  poet  perceives  every 
moment  the  condition  of  the  individual  figures,  and  of  the  accessory  persons  ;  eadi 
takes  hold  of  the  action  eflfectively ;  for  the  manager,  as  well  as  for  the  rdles,  the 
whole  is  adapted  in  a  masterly  way.     From  the  first  news  of  Antony  across  the 
Nile, — through  which  the  image  of  Cleopatra  is  introduced  even  into  this  scene, — 
and  the  simple  remark  of  Lepidus,  '  You  have  strange  serpents  there,'  through  which 
an  impression  is  made  on  the  mind  of  the  hearer  that  prepares  for  Oeopatra's  death 
by  a  serpent's  sting,  to  the  last  words  of  Antony,  *  Good ;  give  me  your  hand,  sir,'  in 
which  the  intoxicated  man  involuntarily  recognizes  the  superiority  of  Augustus  Caesar, 
and  even  to  the  following  drunken  speeches  of  Pompey  and  Enobarbus,  everything 
is  like  fine  chiseled  work  on  a  firmly  articulated  metal  frame.     A  comparison  of  this 
scene  with  the  close  of  the  banquet  act  in  The  Piccolomini  is  instructive. — Corson 
(p.  285) :  Of  Pompey's  entertainment,  made  by  Shakespeare  so  dramatically  impor- 
tant a  scene  in  the  Play,  Plutarch  simply  says,  *and  there'  (meaning  on  his  galley) 
'he  welcomed  them  and  made  them  great  cheer'     But  Shakespeare,  knowing  that 
wine  reveals  as  well  as  disguises,  that  in  vino  est  Veritas,  made  this  banquet  the 
means  of  characterising  and  contrasting  the  Triumvirs,  and  the  poor  relic  of  republi- 


ACT  II,  sc.  viL]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  153 

i-ooted  already,  the  lead  winde  i'th'world  wil  blow  them 
downe.  5 

2  Lepidiis  is  high  Conlord. 

I  They  haue  made  him  drinke  Almes  drinke.  7 

6  etc.  2]  2  ser.  Rowe.  7.  Almes  drinke\  F^F^.     Alms  drink 

6-21.  Om.  Gar.  F^,  Rowe»  Pope,    almsdrini  Sing,  alms- 

6.   Atg^A   Conlord']   high  colourd  F,.         -drink  Theob.  ct  cet. 
-colour' d  FjF^. 


Rome,  Sextus  Pompeius.  This  scene  exhibits  that  Shakespearian  irony  which 
plajrs  so  freely  with  all  things,  regardless  of  all  conventional  ideas  of  high  and  low, 
^jeat  and  small. 

2.  a  Banket]  Malone  :  A  banquet  frequently  signified  what  we  now  call  a  des- 

;  and  from  the  following  dialogue  the  word  must  here  be  understood  in  that 


3.  001116  o'th'their  Plants]  Johnson  :  *  Plants,'  besides  its  common  meaning,  is 
used  for  iht  foot,  from  the  Latin. — Steevens:  So,  in  Lupton's  A  thousand 
NeUsble  things,  etc. :  '  Grind  Mustard  with  Vineger,  and  rub  it  well  and  hard  on  the 
plants  or  soles  of  the  feete:  [and  it  will  helpe  and  quicken  forgetfull  persons.' 
— 1627,  The  Third  Booke,  No.  30.] 

6.  high  Conlord]  This  gross  misprint  which  was  corrected  in  the  Second  Folio, 
GouiJ[>  (p.  45)  accepts  as  the  genuine  word,  and  asserts  that  *  high-coloured '  is  '  one 
of  the  most  absurd  alterations'  he  *eyer  met  with.'  He  then  goes  on  to  explain 
that  Lepidus  '  was  one  of  the  triumviri  or  conlords,  and  this  is  the  subject  of  con- 
venation.'  Many  years  ago  I  regretfully  announced  that  my  patience  was  exhausted 
by  the  ignorance  and  presumption  of  Zachary  Jackson,  Andrew  Becket,  Lord 
Chbdworth,  and  £.  H.  Seymo17R,  and  that  thereafter,  save  in  exceptional  cases, 
DO  space  on  these  pages  should  be  sacrificed  to  their  notes.  After  the  foregoing 
note  on  '  conlord '  would  a  single  voice  be  raised  in  censure  if  George  Gould  be 
idded  to  the  list  ?->Ed. 

7.  Almes  drinke]  Warburton  :  A  phrase,  amongst  good  fellows,  to  signify  that 
Uqnor  of  another's  share  which  his  companion  drinks  to  ease  him.  But  it  satirically 
alludes  to  Oesar  and  Antony' s  admitting  him  into  the  Triumvirate,  in  order  to  take 
off  firom  themselves  the  load  of  envy. — Collier  (ed.  ii) :  Meaning  wine  that  did 
ooC  properly  belong  to  his  share,  but  which  each  had  contributed,  in  order  to  intoxi- 
cate Lefndus. — Schmidt  (Z^jt.):  It  evidently  means  here  the  leavings, — Murray 
(N,  E.D,  4.  b.)  :  The  remains  of  liquor  reserved  for  alms-people. —  [Apparently, 
this  is  the  only  known  instance  of  the  use  of  this  phrase  in  the  language.  It  is  the 
aoUtary  example  furnished  by  Murray.  Everyone  is  entitled,  therefore,  to  give  it  any 
meaning  that  in  his  opinion  harmonises  with  the  eternal  fitness  of  things.  To  me, 
Gillier's  definition  seems  the  closest.  Just  as  an  alms-penny  means,  as  Murray 
says, '  a  penny  given  in  charity  or  as  a  gratuity,'  so  an  *  alms-drink '  may  be  a  drink 
that  is  given  as  a  charity  or  as  a  gratuity.  Inasmuch  as  there  is  here  no  question 
of  charity,  we  may  take  it  as  a  gratuity,  and  a  gratuity  bestowed  by  more  than  one. 
Lepidus  then  drank  not  only  his  own  share,  but  '  they '  plied  him  with  wine,  which, 
like  the  contents  of  a  poor-box,  was  the  result  of  many  gratuitous  contributions. — 
Ed.] 


154  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc  viL 

2  As  they  pinch  one  another  by  the  difpofition,     hee  8 

8.  difpofUion\  doing  reason  Kinnear. 

8.  As  they  pinch  one  another  by  the  disposition]  Warburton  :  A  phnse 
eqaiTalent  to  that  now  in  use,  of  '  touching  one  in  a  sore  place.' — Capell  (i»  JS)  ^ 
This  signifies,  attack  for  their  foibles,  the  foibles  each  is  disposed  to. — Collier  (ed. 
ii)  :  This  seems  to  refer  to  the  sign  they  give  each  other  regarding  'the  disposition' 
of  Lepidus  to  drink. — Staunton:  'By  the  disposition'  is  a  very  questionable 
expression.  We  ought  perhaps  to  read,  '  by  the  disputation^*  that  is,  in  the  contra- 
versy. — The  Cowden-Clarkes  :  That  is,  *  as  they  try  each  other*s  temper  by  banter,' 
*  as  they  gall  or  plague  each  other's  sensitiveness  by  their  mutual  taunts.'  Schmidt 
(Lex.)  here  defines  '  pinch '  as  '  to  make  ridiculous,  to  serve  a  trick.'  '  By  the  dis- 
position '  means,  he  also  says, ' by  their  foible,'  adding, '  a  servant's  speech.'  [I  find 
it,  however,  a  little  difficult  to  combine  the  two  definitions  into  a  coherent  and  appli- 
cable paraphrase  of  the  whole  sentence.  Is  it :  they  serve  one  another  a  tiick  by 
their  foibles? — Ed.] — ^J.  Crosby  (Skakespeariana,  Feb.  1884,  p.  122)1  The  servant 
has  said  [in  efiect],  they  have  made  him  drink  not  only  his  own  wine,  but  a  share 
of  theirs  also.  And  now  as  they  dispose  of  and  set  before  him,  their  full  goblets  to 
quaff,  they  pinch  one  another,  or  wink  significantly,  at  the  imposition  they  are  prac- 
tising on  the  good-natured  reveler.  And  this  harmonises  with  the  context,  'he 
cries,  "  No  more  ; "  reconciles  them  to  his  entreaty,  and  himself  to  the  drink.'  '  Not 
another  drop,  gentlemen,  I  beseech  you ;  I  am  not  so  well  as  I  should  be,  but  I'll 
ne'er  out ; '  to  all  of  which  they  assent ;  and  he  forthwith  proceeds  to  drain  the  cups, 
that  raise  'the  greater  war  between  him  and  his  discretion.'  I  formerly  thought  we 
should  read  '  as  they  pinch  one  another  at  the  imposition.  But  the  explanation  I 
have  given  seems  sufficient — Thiselton  (p.  15) :  In  order  to  ply  Lepidus  suf- 
ficiently with  liquor  and  at  the  same  time  keep  sober  themselves,  his  companions 
give  him  '  Almes  drinke,'  thereby  stinting  themselves  (*  pinch  one  another  by  the  dis- 
position ' ).  By  this  means,  he  has  their  shares  as  well  as  his  own,  and,  being  satisfied 
with  such  good  measure,  and,  perhaps,  feeling  some  awkwardness  at  drinking  alone 
in  company,  he  cries  out  '  No  more,'  f.  e,  '  enough.'  They,  having  so  far  gained 
their  object,  comply,  while  he  proceeds  to  drink  the  wine  that  has  been  so  served  to 
him.  .  .  .  The  passage  has  been  confused  by  .  .  .  the  assumption  that  'reconciles' 
necessarily  imports  the  inferiority  of  the  wine  served  to  Lepidus,  when  it  probably 
indicates  a  slight  touch  of  conscience  on  his  part  at  continuing  to  drink  alone. 
'One  another'  is  certainly  used  somewhat  loosely  for  themselves,  but  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  it  is  a  servant  who  speaks. — Deighton  :  This  seems  to  mean,  as 
they  ply  each  other  hard  with  the  mischievous  desire  of  seeing  one  another  under  the 
table,  Lepidus,  affecting  to  have  had  as  much  as  he  can  carry,  cries  out  '  enough ; ' 
yet  all  the  same,  while  getting  them  to  accept  his  excuses,  finds  it  possible  to  quiet 
his  scruples  against  further  indulgence ;  though  perhaps  *■  'twere  to  consider  too  curi- 
ously to  consider'  the  servant's  speech  as  having  any  very  exact  sense. — [If  'one 
another'  can  be  regarded  as  the  same  as  ihemsetvesy  Thiselton' s  interpretation  seems 
to  be  the  most  plausible.  The  excuse,  first  suggested  by  Schmidt,  for  any  looseness  of 
expression — that  it  is  the  servants  who  are  speaking — is  hardly  applicable  when  we 
find  them  presently  referring,  as  Rolfe  and  Deighton  assume,  to  the  *  Ptolomaic  sys- 
tem of  astronomy,'  and  using  a  term  of  astrology.  But  still,  letting  that  excuse  pass 
for  what  it  is  worth,  the  idea  that  by  disposing  of  an  extra  allowance  to  Lepidus  they 


ACT  II,  sc.  vu.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  155 

cries  out,  no  more;  reconciles  them  to  his  entreatie,  and 
himfelfe  to'thMrinke.  10 

1  But  it  raifes  the  greatet  warre  betweene  him  &  his 
difcretion. 

2  Why  this  it  is  to  haue  a  name  in  great  mens  Fel- 
lowfhip  :  I  had  as  liue  haue  a  Reede  that  will  doe  me  no 
feruice,  as  a  Partizan  I  could  not  heaue.  15 

I  To  be  callM  into  a  huge  Sphere,  and  not  to  be  feene 
to  moue  in't,  are  the  holes  where  eyes  fhould  bee,  which 
pittifully  difafter  the  cheekes.  18 

9.  no  mare]  As  quotation,  Theob.  et  14.  /iW]    live  F,.     /uve  F^F^.    /it/ 
aeq.                                                                     Cap.  et  seq. 

10.  /o*tA'1  to  tJC  FjF^.  18.  pittifully]  pittiJUy  F,. 

11.  greatet]  F,. 

atinted  one  another,  is  at  least  a  more  digniBed  explanation  than  that  of  supposing 
that  they  pinched  each  other,  or  tipped  one  another  the  wink,  over  the  success  of 
their  '  little  game.'  Schmidt's  paraphrase,  *  foibles/  which  he  probably  derived  from 
Capell  without  exactly  comprehending  it,  is  to  me,  whether  in  Schmidt  or  Capell, 
uxiintelligible. — Ed.  ] 

15.  PartizAn]  Murray  (TV.  E.  Z>.  s,  v.  sb^)  :  Adopted  from  the  i6th  century 
French,  partizane ;  an  adaptation  of  Italian,  partesana.  The  origin  of  the  Italian 
word  is  disputed.  ...  A  military  weapon  used  (under  this  name)  by  footmen  in  the 
l6th  and  17th  centuries,  consisting  of  a  long-handled  spear,  the  blade  having  one  or 
more  lateral  cutting  projections,  variously  shaped,  so  as  sometimes  to  pass  into  the 
gisarme  and  the  halberd. 

16-18.  To  be  call'd  into  a  huge  Sphere,  .  . .  pittifiilly  disaster  the  cheekes] 
Johnson  :  This  speech  seems  to  be  mutilated  ;  to  supply  the  deficiencies  is  impossi- 
ble, but  perhaps  the  sense  was  originally  approaching  to  this :  <  To  be  called  into  a 
huge  sphere,  and  not  to  be  seen  to  move  in  it,'  is  a  very  ignominious  state ;  'great 
oflEices'  'are  the  holes  where  eyes  should  be,  which  (if  eyes  be  wanting),  pitifully 
disaster  the  cheeks.' — M.  Mason  :  The  thought,  though  miserably  expressed,  appears 
to  be  this :  That  a  man  called  into  a  high  sphere,  without  being  seen  to  move  in  it, 
is  a  sight  as  unseemly  as  the  holes  where  the  eyes  should  be,  without  the  eyes  to  fill 
them. — Malone:  I  do  not  believe  a  single  word  has  been  omitted.  The  being 
called  into  a  huge  sphere,  and  not  being  seen  to  move  in  it,  these  two  circumstances, 
says  the  speaker,  resemble  sockets  in  a  face  where  eyes  should  be  [but  are  not], 
which  empty  sockets,  or  holes  without  eyes,  pitifully  disfigure  the  countenance.  *  The 
sphere  in  which  the  eye  moves '  is  an  expression  which  Shakespeare  has  often  used. 
Thus,  in  his  119th  Sonnet:  *  How  have  mine  eyes  out  of  their  spheres  been  fitted,' 
etc.  Again,  in  Hamlet:  *  Make  thy  two  eyes,  like  stars,  start  from  their  spheres* — 
RoLFE  here  finds  in  '  sphere '  an  '  allusion  to  the  old  Ptolomaic  astronomy,  accord- 
ing to  which  the  heavenly  bodies  were  set  in  hollow  crystal  spheres,  by  the  revolu- 
tion of  which  they  were  carried  round.'  And  'disaster,*  he  observes,  •  was  an  astro- 
logical term  and  is  probably  suggested  here  by  the  figure  that  precedes.'  [Both  of 
these  suggestions  are,  to  me,  somewhat  doubtful.     '  Sphere '  and  <  disaster '  had  been 


156  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  ii,  sc.  viL 

A  Sennet  founded. 
Enter  Ccefary  Anthony^  Pompey^  Lepidus^  Agrippa^  MecenaSy  20 

EnobarbuSy  Menes ,  with  other  Captaines. 

Ant.     Thus  do  they  Sir  :  they  take  the  flow  o'th'Nyle  22 

19.  A   Sennet   founded.]    A   Sonnet  22.  Ant]  Ant.  [to  Cses.]  Cap.  Mai. 

founded.  F^F^.     Trumpets.  Rowe.  et  seq. 

21.  Menes,]  F,. 

so  long  used,  I  think,  in  their  figurative  sense,  as  in  the  two  quotations  given  bj 
Malone,  that  all  thought  of  their  origin  had  been  lost.  Of  course  this  does  not  applj 
to  'music  of  the  spheres'  or  'discord  in  the  spheres'  and  the  like.  Moreover,  it 
seems  to  me  hardly  Shakespearian  to  put  such  learned  allusions  into  the  mouths  of 
servants.  Deighton  agrees,  however,  with  Rolfe  and  quotes  him  with  approval. — 
Ed.] 

19.  A  Sennet]  Nares:  A  word  chiefly  occurring  in  the  stage-directions  of  the 
old  plays,  and  seeming  to  indicate  a  particular  set  of  notes  on  the  trumpet  or  comet, 
different  from  a  flourish.  '  Trumpets  sound  a  florish,  and  then  a  sennate.' — Decker's 
SatiromasHx  [p.  222,  ed.  Pearson].  In  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Knight  of  Malta, 
V,  ii,  it  is  written  synnet^  and  Mr  Sympson  has  explained  it,  i,  e.  '  flourish  of  trum- 
pets.' But  we  see  from  Decker's  play  that  they  were  different  It  appears  to  have 
been  a  technical  term  of  the  musicians  who  played  those  instruments. 

20.  Enter  Caesar,  etc.]  Knight  (Supp,  Notice,  p.  357) :  This  scene  is  one  of 
those  creations  which  render  Shakspere  so  entirely  above,  and  so  utterly  unlike,  other 
poets.  Every  line  is  a  trait  of  character.  Here  we  see  the  solemn,  '  unmeritable ' 
Lepidus;  the  cautious  Cscsar;  the  dashing,  clever,  genial  Antony.  His  eye  dances; 
his  whole  visage  '  doth  cream  and  mantle ; '  the  comers  of  his  mouth  are  drawn  down, 
as  he  hoaxes  Lepidus  about  the  crocodile  with  the  most  admirable  fooling.  The 
revelry  grows  louder  and  louder,  till  'the  Egyptian  bacchanals'  close  the  scene. 
Who  can  doubt  that  Antony  bears  <  the  holding '  the  loudest  of  all  ?  TTiese  are  not 
the  lords  of  the  world  of  French  tragedy.  Grimm,  who,  upon  the  whole,  has  a 
leaning  to  Shakspere,  says : — '  II  est  assez  ridicule  sans  doute  de  faire  parler  les 
valets  comme  les  h^ros ;  mais  il  est  beaucoup  plus  ridicule  encore  de  faire  parler  aox 
h^ros  le  langage  du  peuple.'  To  make  them  drunk  is  worse  even  than  the  worst  of 
the  ridiculous.  It  is  impossible  to  define  such  a  sin.  We  think,  with  Dogberry,  it 
is  'flat  burglary  as  ever  was  committed.' 

22.  they  take  the  flow  o'th'Nyle]  Reed  :  Pliny,  speaking  of  the  Nile,  says : 
'  How  high  it  riseth,  is  known  by  markes  and  measures  taken  of  certaine  pits.  The 
ordinary  height  of  it  is  sixteen  cubits.  Vnder  that  gage  the  waters  ouerflow  not  all. 
Aboue  that  stint  there  are  a  let  and  hinderance,  by  reason  that  the  later  it  is  ere  they 
be  fallen,  and  downe  again.  By  these,  the  seed  time  is  much  of  it  spent,  for  that 
the  earth  is  too  wet.  By  the  other  there  is  none  at  all,  by  reason  that  the  gpround  is 
dry  and  thirsty.  The  prouince  taketh  good  keep  and  reckoning  of  both,  the  one  as 
well  as  the  other ;  For  when  it  is  no  higher  than  12  cubits,  it  findeih  extream  famine: 
yea,  and  at  13  it  feeleth  hunger  still,  14  cubits  comforts  their  hearts,  15  bids  them  take 
no  care,  but  16  affoordeth  them  plenty  and  delicious  dainties.  .  .  .  And  so  soon  as  any 
part  of  the  land  is  freed  from  the  water,  straight  waies  it  is  sowed.* — Holland's 
Tram,  Bk.  V.,  chap,  ix,  p.  98,  ed.  1601. — M alone:  Shakspeare  seems  rather  to 


Jkcr  II,  sc.  vii.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  157 

By  certaine  fcales  rth'Pyramid  .•  they  know  23 

By'th'height,  the  lownefle,  or  the  meane  :  If  dearth 

Or  Foizon  follow.     The  higher  Nilus  fwels,  25 

The  more  it  promifes  :  as  it  ebbes,  the  Seedfman 

Vpon  the  (lime  and  Ooze  fcatters  his  graine, 

And  fhortly  comes  to  Harueft. 

Lep.     Y'haue  ftrange  Serpents  there  ? 

Anih.     I  Lepidus.  30 

23.  /cales^  fcaU  Ff,  Rowe,  + .  t/  ebhsy  Yi. 

24.  Byth'^  F,.  29.  Y'haue\    Ff.     you've  Rowe,  +  , 
meane:  If^    mean,   if  Rowe  ct         Cap.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.    you  have 

seq.  Var.  *73  et  cet 

26.  promifes  :  asit  ebbes,"]  promifes  as  there  /]  Ff.     there,  Rowe  ct  cet. 

have  derived  his  knowledge  of  this  fact  from  Leo's  History  of  Africa,  translated  by 
John  Pory,  folio,  1600 :  *  Upon  another  side  of  the  island  standeth  an  house  alone  by 
itselfe,  in  the  midst  whereof  there  is  a  foure-square  cesteme  or  channel  of  eighteen 
cobits  deep,  whereinto  the  water  of  Nilus  is  conveyed  by  a  certain  sluice  under 
ground.  And  in  the  midst  of  the  cisterne  there  is  erected  a  certaine  piller,  which  is 
marked  and  divided  into  so  many  cubits  as  the  cisterne  containeth  in  depth.  And 
upon  the  seventeenth  of  June,  when  Nilus  beginning  to  overflow,  the  water  thereof 
conveied  by  the  said  sluce  into  the  channel,  increaseth  daily.  If  the  water  reacheth 
only  to  the  fifteenth  cubit  of  the  said  piller,  they  hope  for  a  fruitful  yeere  following ; 
but  if  [it  ?]  stayeth  between  the  twelfth  cubit  and  the  fifteenth,  then  the  increase  of  the 
yeere  will  prove  but  mean :  if  it  resteth  between  the  tenth  and  twelfth  cubits,  then 
it  is  a  sign  that  come  will  be  solde  ten  ducates  the  bushel.' 

23.  Pyramid]  W.  W.  Lloyd  {N.  &*  Qu.  1897,  VII,  xi,  283)  quotes  *  Though 
palaces  and  pyramids  do  slope  Their  heads  to  their  foundations.' — Macb,  IV,  i,  56; 
the  present  passage,  and  *  rather  make  My  Countries  high  pyramides  my  Gibbet.' — 
V,  ii,  71,  and  then  from  them  infers  that  by  <  pyramid,'  Shakespeare  *  understands  not  a 
proper  pyramid,  but  an  obelisk.'  It  is  certainly  not  impossible ;  both  terms  were  used 
vagnely,  in  accordance  with  the  conception  in  the  popular  mind  of  the  objects  them- 
selves. Thus,  for  instance,  Cotgrave  defines  an  *■  obelisque ' :  '  a  great,  high,  and 
square  stone,  broad  at  the  bottome,  and  lessening  towards  the  top  like  a  Pyramides.' 
—Ed. 

24.  or  the  meane]  Steevens  :  That  is,  the  middle. 

25.  Foizon]  Bradley  (N.E.D.)-.  Adopted  from  Old  Yrtuch  foison,  fuson^ 
Provencal  foison,  regular  phonetic  descendant  from  popular  Latin  fusidn-em  for 
Latin  fOsidn-em,  a  pouring,  noun  of  action  formed  on  fundire  to  pour.  I .  Plenty, 
abundance,  a  plentiful  supply. 

28.  And  shortly]  The  Cambridge  Edition  records  an  Anonjrmous  conjecture  : 
•  And  '/  shortly,'  which  is  highly  probable. 

28.  Haruest]  Corson  (p.  287) :  There's  an  air  of  solidity  in  this  speech,  which 
indicates  a  consciousness  on  the  part  of  the  speaker,  that  he  has  imbibed  quite  freely, 
and  therefore  assumes  a  solid  tone  of  speech. — [Or  it  may  be  merely  the  assurance 
of  one  who  speaks  of  that  whereof  he  knows.  Anthony  befittingly  assumes  to  be  an 
authority  on  things  Egyptian. — Ed.] 


158  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  n.  sc.  viL 

Lep.YoMT  Serpent  of  Egypt,  is  bred  now  of  your  mud  31 

by  the  operation  of  your  Sun  :  fo  is  your  Crocodile. 

Ant.     They  are  fo. 

Pom.     Sit,  and  fome  Wine  :  A  health  to  Lepidus. 

Lep.     I  am  not  fo  well  as  I  fhould  be  :  35 

But  He  ne're  out. 

Enob.     Not  till  you  haue  flept  :  I  feare  me  youT  bee  in 
till  then. 

Lep.     Nay  certainly,  I  haue  heard  the  Ptolomies  Pyra- 
mifis  are  very  goodly  things  :  without  contradiction   I  40 

32.  your  Sun]  the  Sun  Ff,  Rowe  i,  35.  be  .•]  be.  Cap.  et  seq. 

Cap.  37,  38.  [Aside.  Cap. 

34.  Sit,  and]  F,,  Johns.  Var.  '73.  39.  Ptolomies]  Ptohmys  Rowe,  +  . 
Sir,  and  Y^^,   SirraA  Rowe,  ■¥.    Sit,—  Pto/omies'  Cap.  ei  stq. 

and  Cap.  et  cet.  39, 40.  Pyrami/!s]  Ff,  Rowe,+.   Pyr- 

Wine .']  wine  /  Rowe.  amides  Rann  conj.    pyramises  Cap.  et 

35,  36.  Prose,  Han.  Cap.  Var.  '78  et        seq. 

seq.  40.  /]  Om.  F,. 

35.  well]  Om.  Theob.  ii,  Warb. 

31,  32.  Your  Serpent . . .  your  mud  .  . .  your  Sun  .  .  .  3roar  Crocodile]  If 
any  student  desires  other  instances  of  this  idiom,  common  at  this  day,  he  may  find 
them  in  Abbott,  §  221. 

35.  I  am  not  so  well,  etc.]  Lepidus  takes  the  *  health'  literally  and  replies  that 
he  is  not  very  well,  but  he  will  not  on  that  account  leave  the  circle,  which  is  what  he 
means,  I  suppose,  by  *  1*11  ne'er  out;  *  Enobarbus,  in  an  Aside,  perverts  it,  however, 
into  meaning  that  he  will  not  be  out  of  his  debauch  until  he  can  sleep  it  off. — Ed. 

39,  40.  Pyramisis]  Malone  :  Pyratnis  for  pyramid  was  in  common  use  in  our 
author's  time.  So,  in  Bishop  Corbet's  Poems,  1647 :  *  Nor  need  the  chancellor  boast, 
whose  pyramis  Above  the  host  and  altar  reared  is.*  From  this  word  Shakspeare 
formed  the  English  plural,  pyramises,  to  mark  the  indistinct  pronunciation  of  a  man 
nearly  intoxicated,  whose  tongue  is  now  beginning  to  <  split  what  it  speaks.* — [This 
suggestion  of  Malone,  that  the  pronunciation  'pyramises'  indicates  the  fumes  of 
wine,  has  been  silently  adopted  by  several  commentators  since  his  day.  There  is  not 
the  smallest  objection  to  allowing  Lepidus  to  reach  the  utmost  limits  of  intoxication, 
but  I  do  not  see  that  in  the  present  speech  he  has  advanced  as  far  as  Malone  would 
have  him.  First,  he  does  not  say  *  pyramises ; '  this  plural  form  Capell  unwarrantably 
puts  in  his  mouth.  He  says  *  pyramisis,'  which,  if  he  shared  Bishop  Corbet's  appar- 
ent belief  that  pyramis  is  an  English  singular,  is  no  bad  attempt  to  form  a  r^ular 
English  plural ;  certainly  not  so  bad  as  to  say  that  his  tongrue  splits  what  it  speaks. 
Secondly,  Shakespeare  does  not  depend  on  bad  spelling  to  add  comicality  to  language. 
All  spelling  in  his  day  was  too  lawless.  This  does  not  apply,  of  coarse,  to  dialectic 
words  like  *  chill '  for  I  will,  and  the  like.  If  Lepidus' s  tongue  were  too  *  thick,'  in 
modem,  not  Shakespearian,  speech,  to  pronounce  pyramides,  how  comes  it  that 
immediately  afterward  he  pronounces  without  difficulty  a  word  quite  as  hard :  'contra- 
diction '  ?    Lastly,  in  the  very  speech  in  which  Caesar  says  his  '  own  tongue  splits,' 


CTii,  sc.  vii.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  1 59 

aue  heard  that  41 

Menus.     Pampey^di  word. 

Pomp,     Say  in  mine  eare^what  is't. 

Men.     Forfake  thy  feate  I  do  befeech  thee  Captaine, 
jid  heare  me  fpeake  a  word.  45 

Pant.     Forbeare  me  till  anon.  WhifPers  vis  Eare. 

his  Wine  for  Lepidus. 

Lep.     Whar  manner  o'thing  is  your  Crocodile  ? 

Ant.     It  is  (hap'd  fir  like  it  felfe,  and  it  is  as  broad  as  it 
ath  bredth  ;  It  is  iufl  fo  high  as  it  is,  and  mooues  with  it  50 

nme  organs.     It  liues  by  that  which  nourifheth  it,  and 
le  Elements  once  out  of  it,  it  Tranfmigrates. 

Lep.     What  colour  is  it  of? 

Ant.     Of  it  owne  colour  too. 

Lip'    Tis  a  ftrange  Serpent.  55 

43.  [Aside.  Rowe.  46.  Whifpen]  Whifper  F,F^,  Rowe. 

4»<^6.  Pompey...aiftfif.]  Aside,  Cap.  48.  Wkar\  F,. 

43.  m'/.)  v^tf  FjF^  ct  seq.  50,  %\.  it  <rwne\  F„  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 

44.  [Aside.  Johns.  KUy.     it^i  cwn  F^F^.     its  <ntm  Rowe  et 
/eaU]  feate  ¥^,  cet 

45.  a  uwrtf]  Om.  Steev.  conj.  54.  if]  F^  Su.  Glo.  Cam.  Ktlj.   it's 

46.  Pordeare}  For  F^F^,  Rowe.  F  F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Warb.      its 
46^  47.  One  line.  Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.        Han.  et  cet. 


is  no  word  misspelt,  unless  it  be  spUets  itself,  which  is  probably  merely  phonetic, 
id  not  a  misspelling.  See  the  regular  plural,  'pyramides,'  in  V,  ii,  71. — Ed.] 
48.  Whar]  This  word  is  clearly  thus  spelled  in  my  copy  of  the  First  FoHo^  and 
so  a  little  less  clearly  in  Staunton's  photo-zincographic  reproduction.  But  it  is 
Vkai  in  the  Reprint  of  1807  and  in  Booth's  most  accurate  Reprint,  as  it  is  also, 
lesomably,  in  the  copy  which  the  Cambridge  Editors  collated ;  they  make  no 
lie  iA  any  variation.  This  is  trivial  enough,  and  noteworthy  merely  as  additional 
roof  that  copies  of  the  First  Folio  vary. — Ed. 

50^  51,  54.  it  owne]  According  to  The  Bible  Word- Book  (Eastwood  and  Wright) 
far  it  is  used  in  the  Folio  fourteen  times  for  i/s  ;  Murray  (  A^.  £,  D.  s.  v.  Its)  saya 
%een  times;  its  occurs  ten  times,  whereof  five  (spelled  ifs)  are  in  The  Wintet^s  Tale, 
he  instances  specified,  in  The  Bible  Word- B 00k ^  are  given  in  a  note  on  Wint,  Tate, 
iiy  183,  of  this  ed.  Its  does  not  occur  in  the  Authorised  Version  of  the  Bible, 
>II.  It  in  place  of  its  occurs  in  Levit,  xxv,  5,  where  is  the  same  phrase  as  in  the 
lesent  passage  :  '  That  which  groweth  of  it  owne  accord  ; '  this  was  changed  to  '  its 
wn'  in  an  edition  of  the  Bible  printed,  according  to  Murray  {^loc.  cit,),  in  1660. 
[ilton,  who  died  in  1674,  does  not  use  its.  Abbott  (§  228)  says  that  it  is  *  occasion- 
I7'  found  for  iVx,  'when  a  child  is  mentioned,  or  when  anyone  is  contemptuously 
K>ken  of  as  a  child.'  If  this  be  one  of  the  *  occasional '  instances,  it  is  not  without 
caning  that  Anthony  now  uses  it  to  Lepidus. 
52.  the  Elements]  See  note  on  III,  ii,  47. 


i6o 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  II,  sc  vii. 


Ant.     *Tis  fo,  and  the  teares  of  it  are  wet 

Ccef.     Will  this  defcription  (atisfie  him  ? 

AnL     With  the  Health  that  Pompey  giues  him^elfe  he 
is  a  very  Epicure. 

Pomp.     Go  hang  fir,  hang  :  tell  me  of  that  f  Away : 
Do  as  I  bid  you.     Where's  this  Cup  I  call'd  for  ? 

Men.     If  for  the  fake  of  Merit  thou  wilt  heare  mee, 
Rife  from  thy  ftoole. 

Pom.     I  thinke  th*art  mad  .•  the  matter  ? 

Men.     I  haue  euer  held  my  cap  off  to  thy  Fortunes. 

Pom.    Thou  haft  feruM  me  with  much  faith  :  what's 
elfe  to  fay  ?  Be  iolly  Lords. 

Anth.     Thefe  Quicke-fands  LepiduSy 
Keepe  ofi^  them  for  you  finke. 

Men.     Wilt  thou  be  Lord  of  all  the  world  ? 

Pom.     What  faift  thou  ? 

Men.     Wilt  thou  be  Lord  of  the  whole  world  ? 
That's  twice. 

Pom.     How  (hould  that  be  f 


56 


60 


65 


70 


74 


57-59.  \VilL.,Epicure\  Aside,  Cap. 
58.  HeaUh\  healths  HaD. 

60.  Pomp.]  Pomp.  [To  Menas  aside] 
Johns. 

61.  Mm]  the  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Varr.  Ran. 
62-67.   V  f^  •••  /^y'\    Aside,   Cap. 

Gar. 

63.  thy^  the  F^,  Rowe,  Pope. 

64.  M'tfr/]  Ff.    thou'rt  Rowe  et  seq. 
[Rises  and  walks  aside.  Johns. 
fnad\\  mad.  Johns,  ct  seq.  (subs.) 

65.  I  haue'\  I*ve  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

66.  [To  Menas.]  Johns. 


66,  67.    Tkmi..,/ay  f'^  As  one   line, 
Han.  Cap.  et  seq. 

69.  off^  them"]  off  them y  Ff. 

for\  ^fore  Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 
Var.  '73,  Coll.  iii.  or  Walker  (  CrU.  ii, 
321),  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

72-98.    Wilt  thou,., it  more'\   Aside, 
Cap. 

72,   73.    Wilt...twice\   As  one  line, 
Rowe  et  seq.  (subs.) 

74.  How'\  Prithee^  haw  Words. 

Jhould'\  shall  Rowe, 4,  Varr. 
Mai.  Ran. 


57.  Will  this,  etc.]  The  Text,  Notes  show  the  Asides  in  these  and  the  following 
lines. 

60.  teU  me  of  that  ?]  This  is  purposely  vague,  and  refers  to  what  Menas  had 
whispered  *  in*s  eare.' 

65.  held  my  cap  off  to  thy  Fortunes]  Compare,  *my  demerites  May  speake 
(vnbonnetted)  to  as  proud  a  Fortune,*  etc. —  Othello^  I,  ii,  25,  of  this  edition. 

68.  Quicke -sands]  Voss  :  Antony  refers  to  the  cup  of  wine,  which  Pompey  had 
ordered  for  Lepidus,  and  was  now  handed  to  him. 

69.  for  you  sinkc]  If  a  choice  must  be  made  between  Theobald's  ^fore  and 
Walker's  or^  the  latter  seems  preferable.  But  I  doubt  the  necessity  of  any  choice. 
Staunton  prefers  'fore,  and  also  at  III,  xiii,  78,  where  he  refers  to  the  present 
passage  as  parallel. — £d. 


ACT  n.  sc  ToL]     ANTHONY  AND  CLEOPATRA 


l6l 


Men.     But  entertaine  it,  and  though  thou  thinke  me 
poore,  I  am  the  man  will  giue  thee  all  the  world. 

Pom.     Haft  thou  drunke  well. 

Men.     No  Pompey^  I  haue  kept  me  from  the  cup, 
Thou  art  if  thou  dar'ft  be,  the  earthly  loue  : 
What  ere  the  Ocean  pales,  or  side  incliiq)es. 
Is  thine,  if  thou  wilt  ha't. 

Pom.     Shew  me  which  way  ? 

Men.    Thefe  three  World-lharers,  thefe  Competitors 
Are  in  thy  veiTell.     Let  me  cut  the  Cable, 
And  when  we  are  put  off,  fall  to  their  throates : 
All  there  is  thine. 

Pom.    Ah,  this  thou  fhouldft  haue  done. 


75 


80 


85 
87 


75,  76.  BMi.,.'worU'\  Lines  end,  and 
,.. man... world.  Han.  Steer.  Varr.  Ktly. 
ftr...jiMJ*...iBwr//P6pe,  Warb.  et  seq. 

75.  tntertaine  it'\  enter  into  it  Anon, 
ap.  Cam. 

andtko9^k'\  and  Altkomgk  Han. 
Steer.  Varr.  KUy. 

tAou]  you  Pope  ii,  Theob.  Warb. 
Johns.  Varr.  Ran. 

77.  wfi/.]  F^  Cap.  Ran.  well?  F,F^ 
Rowe  et  ceL 

78.  nv/J  Yt,  Rowe  i.    cup,  Rowe  ii 


et  seq. 

79.   Tkonart'l  Tkat  F^F^. 
dar'Ji]  darft  F^. 

81.  iaV]  Ff,  Rowe,+,  Cap.  Dyce, 
Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  have  it  Varr.  Bial.  Ran. 
Movent  Steev.  et  cet. 

82.  way  /]  way,  F^F^  et  seq. 

86.  there  trj  then  is  Southern  MS  ap. 
Coll.  Pope,  +  ,  Cap.  Varr.  Ran.  Coll.  ii» 
iii  (MS),  Dyce  ii,  iii,  Ktly.  fJkeirs  is 
Steev.  conj.     tAere  is,  is  Ed.  conj. 


77.  Hast  thou  drunke  well]  Capbll  (i,  36,  reading  «Thou  hast'):  A  sar- 
castical  affirmation  of  Pompej's ;  and  no  interrc^tion,  as  the  modems  have  made  it, 
by  patting  a  mark  after  *  tveli*  which  they  did  not  find  in  the  two  elder  Folio's ;  whose 
only  mistake,  in  this  instance,  was — a  transposition  of  'Aasf '  and  *  /Aou/ — [It  would 
not  be  difficult  to  express  sarcasm  by  a  question  as  well  as  by  an  affirmation,  and  the 
text  of  the  Folio  be  still  preserved. — Ed.] 

80.  the  Ocean  pales]  Should  any  poet  nowadays  venture  on  using  this  verb  in 
connection  with  the  ocean  he  would  be,  it  is  to  be  feared,  severely  criticised.  But 
as  in  the  beginning  of  this  scene  we  had  to  pardon  some  expressions  because 
uttered  by  servants,  so  here  point  device  phrases  are  hardly  to  be  expected  from  a 
pirate. — Ed. 

83.  Competitors]  The  same  word  is  used  in  I,  iv,  5  ;  V,  i,  52;  see  I,  i,  21. 

84.  Let  me  cut  the  Cable]  See  Plutarch,  Appendix, 

86.  All  there  is  thine]  Steevens  :  This  may  mean,  all  in  the  vessel, — Rolfe: 
' There'  may  be  accompanied  with  a  gesture  towards  the  company  they  have  left. — 
[Pope's  specious  then  has  beguiled  excellent  editors.  Rolfe' s  interpretation  is,  to 
me,  just;  *  there '  is  spoken  deiicrijujc.  (This  pedantic  word  will,  I  trust,  be  pardoned. 
I  know  no  English  word  precisely  equivalent ;  demonstratively  comes,  perhaps,  the 
nearest,  but  this  could  be  applied  to  a  clenched  fist,  to  which  the  Greek  word,  with 
iU  implied  wave  of  the  hand,  would  be,  I  think,  quite  inapplicable. )— Ed.] 

IX 


l62  THE  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  ii,  sc  viL 

And  not  haue  fpoke  on't.     In  me  'tis  villanie,  88 

In  thee/t  had  bin  good  feruice  :  thou  mud  know^ 

'Tis  not  my  profit  that  does  lead  mine  Honour  :  90 

Mine  Honour  it^  Repent  that  ere  thy  tongue. 

Hath  fo  betraide  thine  a£le.     Being  done  vnknowne, 

I  fhould  haue  found  it  afterwards  well  done, 

But  mufl  condemne  it  now  :  deflft^and  drinke. 

Men.    For  this,  He  neuer  follow  95 

Thy  paul'd  Fortunes  more. 

Who  feekes  and  will  not  take,  when  once  'tis  offered, 
Shall  neuer  finde  it  more. 

Pom.    This  health  to  Lepidus. 

Ant.    Beare  him  afhore,  100 

He  pledge  it  for  him  Potnpey. 

Eno.     Heere's  to  thee  Menus.  102 

88.  fpoke\fpoken  F^F^,  Rowe,  +  .  Mtj,  ,„more ; „*offef* d^  ,„more.  Pope  ct 
tfi»*/]  of  til  Cap.  Varr.  Ran.                seq. 

89.  ikee.UI  ihet^  it  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.  96.  paul'd^pairdYf^, 
Steev.  Varr.  Ktly.                                               98.  [Joins  the  company.  Cap. 

feruice  .•]  service,  Johns,  et  seq.  100.  afkore'\  afhore  F,.    afkoar  F  F .. 

(snhs.)  ashoar  Rowe,  Pope. 

91.  it^  Repent'\  is.  Repent  Ff,  Rowe.  [to  an  attendant  Cap. 

95.  [looking  contemptibly  after  him.  100,  10 1.  ^Air^...Pompey]  One  line. 
Cap.  Gar.  Pope  et  seq. 

95-98.  For  this,,. it  morel  Lines  end, 

91.  Mine  Honour  it]  Abbott  (§  385)  :  That  is,  {But  it  is),  Mine  honour  (that 
doth  lead)  it  (t.  e.  profit). 

96.  paul'd]  Murray  (A^.  £,  D,  s.  v.  Palled,  past  participle  from  PcUl  which  is 
apparently  aphetic  from  Appal,  to  which  the  early  senses  are  parallel) :  Enfeebled, 
weakened,  impaired. 

97.  98.  Who  seekes  .  •  •  neuer  finde  it  more]  Vischer  (p.  103,  footnote)  recalls 
Schiller's  apothegm :  Was  da  von  der  Minute  ausgeschlagen,  das  bringt  dir  keine 
Ewigkeit  mrriick. 

loi.  He  pledge  it]  :  <  The  English,'  says  Master  Estienne  Perlin  {Description  </' 
AngUterre,  1 558),  <  are  great  drunkards  (<*  fort  grands  3rvrongnes  ")  ;  for  if  an  Eng- 
lishman would  treat  you,  he  will  say  in  his  language,  vis  dring  a  quarta  rim  oim 
[  ?  oin]  gas^im  oim  hespaignol  oim  mahoysi,  that  is,  will  you  drink  a  quart  of  Gas- 
coigne  wine,  another  of  Spanish,  and  another  of  Malmsy  ?  In  drinking  or  eating  they 
will  say  to  you  above  a  hundred  times,  drind  iou,  which  is,  I  drink  to  you ;  and  you 
should  answer  them  in  their  language,  iplaigiou,  which  means,  I  pledge  you.  If  you 
would  thank  them  in  their  language,  you  must  say,  god  tanque  artelay.  When  they 
are  drunk,  they  will  swear  by  blood  and  death  that  you  shall  drink  all  that  is  in  your 
cup,  and  will  say  to  you  thus :  bigod  sol  drind  iou  agoud  oin.^ — Rye,  England  as  seen 
by  Foreigners,  p.  190.     Not  very  appropriate,  but  amusing. — Ed. 


ACT  II,  sc.  vii.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  163 

Men.  £no6ar6us,wc\comc.                                                   103 

Pom.  Fill  till  the  cup  be  hid. 

Eno.  There's  a  ftrong  Fellow  Menas.                                  105 

Men.  Why  ? 

Eno.  A  beares  the  third  part  of  the  world  man  :  feeft 
not? 

Men.  The  third  part,  then  he  is  drunk  :  would  it  were 

all,  that  it  might  go  on  wheeles.                                                  1 10 

Eno.  Drinke  thou  :  encreafe  the  Reeles. 

104.  [Lepidus  born  off.  Cap.  Sta.  Ktly.     A  Glo.  Cam.    He  Pope  et 

105.  ftrong\ftrang  F,.  ftrange  F^F^,         cct 

Rowe.  107.  world    man:"]     world,     man! 

[Pointing  to  Lep.  Rowe.  Rowe. 

107-1 10.  A., ,allf ]  Prose,  Ff,  Rowe, + ,  A^A]  ^^^^^  ^^^^  Ktly. 

Knt,  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.    Lines  end,  man  109.  then  he  u]  Ff,  HaL  Ktly,  Coll. 

.,»noif,..allf  Johns.  Var. '73.     bears,,.  iii.     /i/if  f>  Rowe  et  cet 

M//...tf^,  Cap.  et  cet.  no.  that  ...wheeUs\    Separate   line, 

107.  ^]  Ff,  Rowe,  Knt.     ^A  Dyce,  Theob.  et  scq. 

107,  108.  seest  not?]  Walker  (  Vers,  291) :  Qu.  ^seist  not?'  yet  the  uncon- 
txacted  seht  seems  strange  in  Shakespeare. — [Singer  silently  adopted  this  sag- 
gestion.] 

109.  then  he  is  drunk]  There  seems  to  be  no  necessity  to  adopt  Rowe's  omis- 
sion of  '  he.'  Had  there  been  an  interrogation  mark  after  '  The  third  part,'  or  even 
a  dash,  would  anyone  have  suggested  a  change  ? — Ed. 

no.  it  might  go  on  wheeles]  M alone:  The  World  runs  on  Wheels  is  the  title 
of  a  pamphlet  by  Taylor,  the  Water- Poet. 

III.  encrease  the  Reeles]  Steevens:  As  the  word — reel  was  not,  in  our 
author's  time,  employed  to  signify  a  dance  or  revel,  and  is  used  in  no  other  part  of 
his  works  as  a  substantive,  it  is  not  impossible  that  the  passage  before  us,  which 
seems  designed  as  a  continuation  of  the  imagery  suggested  by  Menas,  originally  stood 
thus :  '  and  grease  the  wheels  J* — DoucE :  Here  is  some  corruption,  and  unless  it 
was  originally  revels,  the  sense  is  irretrievable.  In  all  events  Steevens  has  erred  in 
sajring  that  <  reel  was  not  in  our  author's  time,  employed  to  signify  a  dance.'  [Here- 
upon Douce  gives  a  quotation  from  Newes  from  Scotland,  1 591,  wherein  there  is 
a  reference  to  a  *reill  or  short  daunce.'  See  note  on  Macbeth,  I,  iii,  1 1  (of  this 
edition),  where  this  quotation  is  given  in  full,  not,  however,  by  Douce,  but  strangely 
enough  by  Steevens  himself,  who  had  evidently  forgotten  it. — Ed.] — Singer  :  Menas 
says  <  would  it  were  all  so  (i.e.  drunk),  that  it  [the  world]  might  go  on  wheels, 
t.  e.  turn  round  or  change.'  To  which  Enobarbus  replies,  '  Drink  thou ;  increase 
the  reels^  i.  e,  increase  its  giddy  course. — Schmidt  (Lex.) :  That  is,  increase  the 
motions  like  those  of  drunken  men ;  used  in  this  sense  for  the  rh3rme's  sake. — [A 
sporadic  rhjrming  couplet  in  a  scene  like  the  present  is  to  me  un-Shakespearian  ;  it 
is  probably  accidental,  not  intentional.  Moreover,  the  explanations  of  *  Reeles,' 
whether  referring  to  the  giddy  course  of  the  world  or  to  the  drunken  gait  of 
Menas,  are  to  me  forced.     I  much  prefer  to  regard  the  word  as  a  contraction  of 


l64  ^^^  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  ii,  sc  viL 

J^»     Come.  112 

Pom.    This  is  not  yet  an  Alexandrian  Feaft. 

Ant.    It  ripen's  towards  it :  (Irike  the  Veffells  hoa. 
Heere's  to  Cafar.  115 

Cdfar.     I  could  well  f  orbear't,  it's  monftrous  labour 
when  I  wa(h  my  braine^and  it  grow  fouler. 

AfU.     Be  a  Child  o'th'time.  1 18 

113.  noi  y€t'\  noi  Theob.  ii,  Warb.  Aait  f]r,...^mm,...yWiSrr.  Pope  et  seq. 
Johns.  116.  forbear' i'\   forbear  it   Pope,-*-, 

114.  Vefeils'^  KeiilesCxoAxj  {Sk*ana,  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Coll.  Wh. 
i,  123).  it's]  its  F.. 

115.  Heere's]T^,  /Tirr^jF^F^,  Rowe,  II7.  and^AnSmg. 

Cam.     Here  is  Pope,  do.  et  cet.  g^o^^  Sing.  Ktlj.    growes  F,. 

116.  117.  I..fouler'\  Lines  end,y&r-        gretws  F^F^  et  cet 

revels;  the  likelihood  of  this  contraction  is  set  forth  in  the  note  on  I,  iv,  7,  abore. 
—Ed.] 

114.  strike  the  Vessells]  Johnson  :  Try  whether  the  casks  sound  as  empty. — 
Stxbvkns  :  This  means  no  more  than  '  chink  the  vessels  one  against  the  other,  as  a 
mark  of  our  unanimity  in  drinking,'  as  we  now  say  chink  glasses, — Holt  Whitb  : 
Vessels  probably  mean  kettU-drumSy  which  were  beaten  when  the  health  of  a  person 
of  eminence  was  dimnk ;  immediately  after  we  have,  '  make  battery  to  our  ears  with 
the  loud  musick.'  They  are  called  kettles  in  Hamlet:  *  Give  me  the  cups ;  And  let 
the  kettle  to  the  trumpet  speak.' — ^Boswell:  In  Fletcher's  Monsieur  Tkomas,  we 
meet  with  a  passage  which  leaves  no  doubt,  as  Weber  has  observed,  that  to  strike 
the  vessels  means  to  tap  them  :  *  Home,  Launce,  and  strike  a  fresh  piece  of  wine.' — 
V,  X. — Dycb  (Gloss.)  reiterates  Boswell's  assertion  that  Weber  had  rightly  explained 
the  meaning  of  '  strike '  in  this  line,  and  adds  an  example  of  its  use  '  with  the  same 
signification  in  a  well-known  modem  poem :  '*  L'  Avare,  not  using  half  his  store. 
Still  grumbles  that  he  has  no  more;  Strikes  not  the  present  tun,  for  fear  The  vintage 
should  be  bad  next  year." ' — Prior's  Alma,  C.  iii.  The  Cowden-Clarkes  while 
granting  that '  strike '  at  times  means  to  tap,  do  not  believe  that  it  has  this  meaning 
here,  because  *  Antony  would  hardly  bid  them  broach  more  wine  where  Pompey  is 
the  entertainer ;  and,  moreover,  at  this  stage  of  the  entertainment  there  would  be  bo 
question  of  any  one  giving  such  an  order.'  They,  therefore,  adopt  Steevens's  inter- 
pretation. [If  Shakespeare  had  meant  that  the  revellers  should  merely  clink  the 
glasses,  as  in  lago's  song :  *  Let  me  the  cannikin  clink/  I  doubt  that  he  would  have 
used  so  strong  a  word  as  '  strike.'  As  r^ards  courtesy,  Anthony  was  almost  invited 
by  Pompey  to  call  for  more  wine  by  his  com]:daint  that  they  had  not  yet  reached 
the  height  of  an  Alexandrian  feast — Ed.] 

1 17.  and  it  grow  fouler]  Singer  reads  *an  it  grow  fouler,'  which,  as  Dyce  (ed. 
ii)  justly  observes,  is  '  not  a  probable  reading.' 

118.  a  Child  o'th'time]  That  is,  submit  like  a  child  to  the  humour  of  the  honr. 
Compare  Lady  Macbeth' s  words  (for  I  believe  them  to  be  hers)  to  her  husband: 
*  Away,  and  mock  the  time  with  fairest  show.  False  face  must  hide  what  the  false 
Heart  doth  know.' — I,  vii,  94.  Lady  Macbeth  and  Anthony  use  *  time '  in  the  same 
sense,  that  is, '  the  company  about  you.' — £d. 


ACT  II.  sc.  vij.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


i6s 


Cafar.     Poffeffe  it,  He  make  anfwer  /  but  I  had  rather 
fafl  from  all,  foure  dayes,  then  drinke  fo  much  in  one. 

Enob,     Ha  my  braue  Emperour,  (hall  we  daunce  now 
the  Egyptian  Backenals,  and  celebrate  our  drinke  ? 

Pom,     Let's  ha't  good  Souldier. 

Ant.     Come,  let's  all  take  hands, 
Till  that  the  conquering  Wine  hath  fteep't  our  fenfe. 
In  foft  and  delicate  Lethe. 

Eno,     All  take  ha  nds  : 
Make  battery  to  our  eares  with  the  loud  Muficke, 
The  while.  He  place  you,  then  the  Boy  (hall  fmg. 


1 20 


125 


129 


119,  120.  Poffeffe... one, '\  Lines  end, 
raiktr...one  Thcob.  ii,  Warb.  Cap.  fast 
...  one.  Han.  Mai.  Steev.  Varr.  Coll. 
Sing.  Wb.  it,  ...fast... one.  Johns.  Varr. 
Ran.  answer  : . .  .days. .  .one.  Knt»  Dyce, 
Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 

119.  Poffeffe  f/]  Possesit  Han. 
Pledge  it  Kinnear.  Profaee  it  Nichol- 
ion  ap.  Cam. 

/5f]  Iwi//  Johns.  Varr.  Ran. 
maJke"]  Om.  Han. 

121,  122.  ^a  ...  drinke  f]  Lines  end. 


new... drink  f  Cap.  Mai.  emperor ,  ... 
Bacchanals,  ...drink  f  Johns.  Varr.  Ran. 
et  seq.  (subs.) 

121.  Enob.]  Enob.  [to  Ant]  Cap. 

122.  BackenalsJBachanalsF^.    Ba*,- 
chanals  F^F^. 

123.  [they  rise.  Cap. 

124.  letWJ  let  us  Steev.  Varr.  Knt, 
CoU.  Hal. 

kands,J    hands,    and   beat    the 
ground,  Steev.  conj. 


Z19.  Possesse  it]  Collier  (ed.  ii,  reading  Profess  it  from  his  MS,  thus  ex- 
plains) :  That  is,  Profess  to  be  a  child  of  the  time,  and  I'll  do  the  same.  Although 
the  meaning  of  Profess  here  may  not  be  very  evident,  *  Possess  *  seems  to  offer  no 
consistent  sense.  In  King  Lear,  I,  i,  we  have  seen  the  opposite  error,  for  there 
'possesses'  was  fCLVs^rixiXxA  professes. — Collier  in  his  Third  Edition  returned  to  the 
original  text,  '  Possess,'  with  the  brief  note :  '  So  the  old  copies,  s.  q.  Pass  it,  viz., 
the  cup.' — Anon.  (Blackwood,  Oct.  1853,  p.  467)  :  Caesar's  meaning  is  quite  obvious ; 
he  means.  Be  master  of  it.  *  Be  a  child  of  the  time,'  says  Antony.  *  Rather  be  its 
master,  say  1/  rejoins  Caesar, — a  sentiment  much  more  likely  to  come  from  the  lips 
of  the  great  dictator  than  the  paltry  rejoinder  which  [Collier's  MS]  puts  into  his 
mouth — *'  Profess  it^ — that  is,  profess  to  be  the  child  of  the  time. — Singer  (Sh.  Vind. 
291) :  Caesar  may  mean,  *  Possess  it'  rather  than  waste  it,  like  a  child  o'the  time  in 
drunkenness. — Staunton  :  There  is  some  ambiguity  in  the  word  '  possess,'  which, 
if  not  a  misprint,  is  employed  here  in  a  sense  we  are  unaccustomed  to ;  but  the  mean- 
ing of  the  passage  is  plain  enough.  In  former  days  it  was  the  practice,  when  one 
good  fellow  drank  to  another,  for  the  latter  to  '  do  him  right '  by  imbibing  a  quantity 
of  wine  equal  to  that  quaffed  by  the  health-giver.  Antony  proposes  a  health  to 
Caesar,  but  Caesar  endeavours  to  excuse  himself,  whereupon  Antony  urges  him  by 
s^yioi^t  '  Be  a  child  o'the  time/  i,  e.  do  as  others  do  ;  indulge  for  once.  Caesar  then 
consents  to  pledge  the  health,  and  says,  *  possess  it,'  or  propose  it, — I'll  do  it  justice. 
— Thiselton  (p.  16)  :  This  simply  means,  *  Have  your  wish.' — [I  prefer  the  inter- 
pretation of  Anon,  in  Blackwood  (who  is  said  to  have  been  Lettsom). — Ed.] 


l66  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  ii,  sc  viL 

The  holding  eueiy  man  fhall  beate  as  loud,  130 

As  his  (Irong  fides  can  volly. 

Muficke  Mayes.    Enobarbus  places  them  hand  in  hand. 

The  Song. 
Came  then  Monarch  of  the  Vine, 
Plumpie  Bacchus^  with  pinke  eyne :  135 

13a  heaU'\  heat  F,F^,  Rowe,  Pope,        ^^o/ Daniel. 
Waib.    bear  Theob.  Han.  Johns,  et  seq.  131.  ca$i\  the  Rowe  ii. 

150.  The  holding  euexy  man  shall  beate]  Theobald  :  The  company  were  to 
join  in  the  burden,  which  the  poet  styles  the  holding.  But  how  were  they  to  beat 
this  with  their  sides  t  I  am  persuaded  the  poet  wrote :  '  The  holding  every  man 
shall  bear^  as  loud  As  his  strong  sides  can  volley.*  The  breast  and  sides  are  immedi- 
ately concerned  in  straining  to  sing  as  loud  and  forcibly  as  a  man  can.  So  in  the 
Huntsman's  So>r^  in  As  You  Like  It^  we  find  the  marginal  direction:  'The  rest 
shall  bear  this  Burthen.' — Stbevens:  ^ Beat*  might  have  been  the  poet's  word, 
however  harsh  it  may  appear  at  present  In  Henry  VIII.  we  find  a  similar  expres- 
sion :  *  —  let  the  musick  knock  it' — ^Johnson  :  *  The  holding  every  man  shall  beat' 
That  is,  Every  man  shall  accompany  the  chorus  by  drumming  on  his  sides,  in  token 
of  concurrence  and  applause. — [Did  Dr  Johnson  measure  every  one's  capacity  to 
drum  on  his  sides  by  his  own? — Ed.] — M.  Mason  :  To  bear  the  burden,  or,  as  it  is 
here  called,  the  holding  of  a  song,  is  the  phrase  at  this  day.  The  passage,  quoted  by 
Steevens,  from  Henry  VIII,  relates  to  instrumental  musick,  not  to  vocal. — M alone  : 
The  meaning  of  the  holding  is  ascertained  by  a  passage  in  an  old  pamphlet  called 
The  Serving  Man*s  Comfort,  1598 :  ' —  where  a  song  is  to  be  simg  the  undersong 
or  holding  whereof  is.  It  is  merrie  in  haul  where  beards  wag  all.' 

133.  The  Song]  Capell  (i,  36)  :  When  this  play  was  fitted  up  for  the  stage  in 
the  year  fifty-eight  by  the  present  editor,  a  stanza  was  then  added  to  this  truly 
bacchanalian  song,  and  the  song  printed  as  follows :  I.  Gime,  thou  monarch  of  the 
vine,  Flumpy  Bacchus,  with  pink  eyne ;  Thine  it  is  to  cheer  the  soul.  Made,  by  thy 
enlarging  bowl.  Free  from  wisdom's  fond  controul.  Bur,  Free  from  &c.  2.  Mon- 
arch, come  ;  and  with  thee  bring  Tipsy  dance,  and  revelling :  In  thy  vats  our  cares 
be  drown'd ;  With  thy  grapes  our  hairs  be  crown' d  ;  Cup  us,  till  the  world  go  round. 
Bur,  Cup  us,  &c. — [When  Capell  warbles  'Tipsy  dance,  and  revelling,'  I  am  afraid 
he  had  been  lately  reading  Milton's  Cbmus,'] 

135.  Plumpie]  Green  (p.  246)  believes  *of  a  certainty'  that  the  epithet 
'plumpy'  was  suggested  by  the  figures  depicted  in  the  Emblem  Writers,  Alciat, 
Whitney,  and  especially  in  Boissard's  Thealrum  Vita  Humana,  p.  213 ;  the  illns- 
tzmtion  in  this  last  book  Green  reproduces,  and  Bacchus  is  therein  depicted  as  unde- 
niably plump,  but  whether  the  obesity  be  due  merely  to  well-nourished  youth  or  to 
convivial  living,  it  is  not  easy  to  decide.  The  force  of  Green's  argument  in  favour 
of  the  Emblem  Writers  (and  it  has  undeniable  force),  lies  in  his  accumulation  of 
instances,  and  is  not  to  be  judged  by  a  solitary  example. — Ed. 

135.  with  pinke  ejrne]  Johnson  {^Dict,  s.  v.  Pink.  2) :  An  eye ;  commonly  a 
small  one  :  as  pink-tyt^  [in  the  present  passage]. — Steevens  :  Thus  in  Holland's 
Pliny,  Eleventh  Book,  we  find  :  *■  also  them  that  were  pinke-eied,  and  had  very  small 


ACT  II,  sc.  vu.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  167 

In  thy  Fattes  our  Cares  be  drown^dy  136 
With  thy  Grapes  our  haires  be  Crowtfd. 

Cup  vs  till  the  world  go  round ^ 

Cup  vs  till  the  world  go  round.  1 39 

136.  Fattes]  Fats  Rowe.     vats  Pope.  138,  139.  Cup]  All.  Cup  Sta. 


cics,  they  tenned  Ocella'  [p.  335,  cd.  1635].— Nares  (x.  v.  Pink  eyne)  :  Small 
eyes.  This  expression,  in  the  quaint  language  and  fantastic  spelling  of  old  Lane- 
ham,  appears  thus :  *  It  was  a  sport  very  pleazaunt  of  theeze  beastz ;  to  see  the  Bear 
with  his  pink  nyez  leering  after  hiz  enmicz  approch*  [p.  25,  ed.  1784]. — Ibid. 
(j.  V.  Pink-eyed)  :  Coles  renders  it  by  lucinius  and  ocella;  later  ed.  tlso  patus ;  and 
in  the  Latin  part  of  his  Dictionary  he  has  •  Oceila,—arum.  Maids  with  little  eyes ; 
pink-ey'd  girls.'  To  vnnk  and  pink  with  the  eyes,  still  means  to  contract  them,  and 
peep  out  of  the  lids.  In  Fleming's  Nomenclator  we  have:  'Ocella,  lucinius  .  .  . 
Ayant  fort  petits  yeux.  That  hath  little  eyes:  pink-eyed.*— Whitney  {Cent.  Diet, 
s.  V.  pink-eye.'  Derived  from  pink^  v.,  wink,  blink,  +  eye,^  after  Middle  Dutch 
* pifuk-ooghct  pimp-ooghe^  one  who  has  small  eyes  .  .  .  Pink  in  [the  present  line]  is 
usually  regarded  as  an  adjective,  with  the  assumed  sense  'winking,*  or  'blinking;' 
but  if  an  adjective  it  must  belong  io  pink*  [a  pink  colour].)  :  A  small  eye. — Elton 
(p.  284)  :  Holinshed,  however,  shows  us  that  Bacchus  was  accused  in  the  song  of  a 
tipsy  blinking ;  for  in  his  sketch  of  the  pot-knights  he  makes  them  afraid  to  stir  from 
the  alehouse-bench,  where  ihey  sit  half-asleep,  « still  pinking  with  their  narrow  eies 
as  halfe  sleeping,  till  the  fume  of  their  aduersarie  [be  digested  that  he  may  go  to  it 
afresh.     Vol.  i,  p.  170,  ed.  1586]. 

138,  139.  Cup  V8  .  .  .  round]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  These  last  two  lines,  or  rather 
the  last  line  and  the  repetition  of  it,  are  expressly  called  '  the  burden  *  (t.  e.  bourdon) 
in  the  MS,  and  they  are  included  in  a  bracket. — Dowden  (p.  374) :  If,  during  this 
tragic  period,  Shakspere  retain  any  tendency  to  observe  the  comedy  of  incident  in 
life,  the  incident  will  be  of  another  sort  from  that  which  moves  our  laughter  in  77ie 
Comedy  of  Errors,  It  will  rather  be  a  fragment  of  titanic  burlesque,  overhung  by 
some  impending  horror,  and  inspired  by  a  deep  '  idea  of  world-destruction.*  *  Such 
a  stupendous  piece  of  burlesque,  inspired  by  an  idea  of  world-destruction,  Shakspere 
found  in  Plutarch's  life  of  Antony,  and  having  allowed  it  to  dilate  and  take  colour 
in  his  own  imagination,  he  transferred  It  to  his  play.  Aboard  Pompey*s  galley  the 
masters  of  the  earth  hold  hands  and  dance  the  Egyptian  bacchanals,  joining  in  the 
volleying  chorus,  '  Cup  us,  till  the  world  goes  round ! ' ;  and  Menas  whispers  his 
leader  to  bid  him  cut  the  cable,  and  fall  to  the  throats  of  the  Triumvirs.  A  great 
painting  by  Orcagna  shows  a  terrible  figure,  Death,  armed  with  the  scythe,  and  swee]>- 
ing  down  through  bright  air,  upon  the  glad  and  careless  garden-party  of  noble  and 
beautiful  persons, — men  and  women  who  lean  to  one  another,  and  caress  their  dogs 
and  hawks,  while  they  listen  to  the  music  of  stringed  instruments.  In  Shakspere' s 
scene  of  revelry,  death  seems  to  be  more  secretly,  more  intimately  present,  seems  more 
surely  to  dominate  life ;  though  it  passes  by,  it  passes,  as  it  were,  with  an  ironical 
smile  at  the  security  of  the  possessors  of  this  world,  and  at  the  noisy  insubstantial 
triumph  of  life,  permitted  for  a  while. 

♦  A  word  applied  by  Heine  to  Aristophanes —  Weltvemuhtungsidee. 


i68 


THE   TRACE  DIE   OF 


[act  II,  sc.  vii. 


Ca/ar.    What  would  you  more? 
Pompey  goodnight     Good  Brother 
Let  me  requeft  you  of  our  grauer  bufmeffe 
Frownes  at  this  leuitie.     CJentle  Lords  let's  part, 
You  fee  we  haue  burnt  our  cheek  es.     Strong  Enobarbe 
Is  weaker  then  the  Wine,  and  mine  owne  tongue 
Spleet's  what  it  fpeakes:  the  wi  Ide  difguife  hath  almoft 
Antickt  vs  all.     What  needs  more  words  t  goodnight 
Good  Anthony  your  hand. 

Pom.     He  try  you  on  the  (hore. 

Anth.    And  Ihall  Sir,  giues  your  hand. 


140 


145 


150 


140,  141.  Wkat...Brotker\  One  line, 
Rowe  et  seq. 

142.  you  of  our\  Ff.  you  of;  our 
Rowe  i.  you^  off;  our  Han.  Cap.  of  you 
— our  Ktly.    you  off;  our  Rowe  ii  et  cet. 

144.  we  haue\  w^ve  Dyce  ii,  iii. 
ckeekes]  ckeeke  F,.     cheek  F^F^, 

Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  i,  Han. 

Enobarbe]  Enobarbus  Pope, +  . 
Enobarb  Coll.  Dyce,  Sta.  GIo.  Cam. 

145.  Wine'\  wind  F,F^,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb. 


146.  SpUei's\  Spleets  F,Fj.  Splits  F^ 
et  seq. 

147.  Anticki'\  Anticied  Var.'yS  et 
seq. 

149.  on  the  Jhore'\  on  the  Jhoar  FjF^. 
0'  the  shore  Steev.  Var.  '73,  *78,  Knt 
ashore  or  on  shore  Walker  (Crit,   iii, 

300)- 

150.  5fr,]  Ff,  Rowe.  Sir  Johns.  Coll. 

Wh.     ^fV  /  Pope  et  cet. 

glues']  F,.    £^ve  us  Mai.     ,^w/j 
FjF^  et  cet. 


140.  What  would  you  more?]  Corson  (p.  291)  :  Every  speech  of  Octavius  in 
this  scene  shows  that,  though  in  the  revels,  he  is  not  of  them.  He  simply  endures 
them  as  a  necessary  evil,  for  the  time  being.  '  What  would  you  more  ? '  shows  that 
he  has  been  a  reluctant  but  politic  attendant,  and  is  impatient  to  have  them  over. 

142,  143.  Let  me  request .  . .  Frownes  at  this  leuitie]  Thiselton  (p.  16)  : 
That  is, '  let  me  request  you  for  the  sake  of  our  graver  business  which  frowns  at  this 
levity.'  It  is  better  to  regard  this  passage  as  supplying  an  instance  of  the  suppressed 
relative,  than  to  alter  *  of '  to  off,  and  bisect  the  sentence. — [Does  not  the  critic  over- 
look the  fact  that  he  leaves  the  sentence  incomplete  ?  What  is  it  that  Caesar  requests  ? 
It  would  be  difficult,  moreover,  to  find  another  example,  exactly  parallel  to  this,  of 
the  *  suppression '  of  a  relative.  I  can  detect  none  in  the  examples  quoted  by  Abbott 
in  §§  244,  245,  246,  on  the  '  omission  of  the  relative.' — Ed.] 

146.  Spleet's]  Collier  (ed.  i)  :  We  are  not  sure  that  this  orthography  ought 
not  to  be  preserved.  *  Spleets '  was  not  the  old  mode  of  spelling  jp/itSt  and  the  vari- 
ation might  be  intentional. 

146.  the  wilde  disguise]  Murray  (A^.  E.D.  s.  v.  Disguise,  sb.  y)  :  <  Disorder 
by  drink '  (Johnson).  [The  present  passage  is  here  quoted,  and  also]  Ben  Jonson, 
Masque  of  Augurs^  '  Groom,  Disguise  !  what  mean  you  by  that  ?  do  you  think  that 
his  majesty  sits  here  to  expect  drunkards  ? '  [p.  429,  ed.  Gifford.  ] 

149.  He  try  you  on  the  shore]  Deighton  :  I  will  make  trial  of  your  feasting 
on  shore  (as  you  have  mine  on  board  ship). 

150.  And  shall  Sir]  Abbott  (§  97)  :  *  And'  is  frequently  found  in  answers  in 


ACT  II,  sc.  vu.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TEA 


169 


Pom.     Oh  Anthony yyou  haue  my  Father  houfe.  151 

But  what,  we  are  Friends  ? 
Come  downe  into  the  Boate. 

Eno.    Take  heed  you  fall  not  Menas  :  He  not  on  Ihore,       1 54 


151,  152.  you  haiu...Frunds  f^  One 
line.  Cap.  et  seq.  (except  Knt,  Sta.) 

151.  Father  houfe\  Fathers  houfe  F,. 
father-house  Knt.  Father's  houfe  F^F^ 
etcet 

houfe. '\  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Coll.  house ^ 
Var.  '73,  '78,  '85.  house,—  Cap.  Mai. 
ct  cec. 

152,  153.  But ...  Boate"]  One  line, 
Rowe,+. 

152.  what^']  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  what! 
Tbeob.  Warb.  Johns.  Var.  '73.  what  t 
Han.  Cap.  et  ceL 


152.  we  are]  w^re  Pope,  +  . 

153.  Come  downe]  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Coll. 
Hal.     Come,  down  Cap.  et  cet. 

154-156.  Take  heed,., what]  As  prose, 
Johns. 

154.  155.  not. ..Cabin]  not,  [Exeunt 
Pom.  Can.  Ant.  and  Attendants]  Menas^ 
PU... shore.  Men.  No,  to  my  Cabin.  Cap. 
Var.  '85  et  seq. 

154.  not  Menas  .*  lie]  F,.  not,  Menas : 
lie  FjF^.  not.  Men.  Til  Rowe,  Johns. 
not,  Menas.  Men.  77/  Pope,  Theob. 
Han.  Warb. 


the  sense  of  *  you  are  right  and  *  or  '  yes  and,'  the  *  yes  *  being  implied.  In  the  pres- 
ent passage,  the  phrase  is  equivalent  to  '  You  say  well,  and  you  shall,*  or  '  So  you 
shall,*  *  that  you  shall,'  emphatically. 

151.  you  haue]  Pope  unwarrantably  changed  this  into  *you  hate.^  Whereupon 
Theobald  administered  to  Pope  a  somewhat  sarcastic  rebuke,  and  then,  in  order  to 
prove  that  the  original  text  is  correct,  <  insisted,' — to  quote  his  own  words, — that  there 
is  here  an  allusion  to  a  '  noted  witticism '  made  by  Pompey  on  the  present  occasion. 
This  witticism  was  founded  on  the  fact  that  the  splendid  residence  in  Rome  of  Pom- 
pey's  father,  at  that  time  in  the  possession  of  Anthony,  was  situated  on  the  Via 
Carinee  (*or  Galley -street,  as  we  might  call  it')  where  even  the  houses  themselves 
were  built  to  resemble  galleys  ;  when,  therefore,  Pompey  said  that  he  would  enter- 
tain Caesar  and  Anthony  on  his  galley,  there  was  a  witty  double  allusion  to  his  galley 
and  his  house  in  *  Galley-street.'  As  authorities,  Theobald  quoted  Paterculus :  *  Qui 
[t.  e,  Pompeius]  baud  absurde,  cum  in  navi  Caesaremque  et  Antoniuro  coena  excipe- 
ret,  dixit,  in  Carinis  suis  se  coenam  dare  ;  referens  hoc  dictum  ad  loci  nomen,  in  quo 
patema  domus  ab  Antonio  possidcbatur.' — [lib.  ii,  cap.  Ixxvii.]  And  also  Aurelius  Vic- 
tor: *  Pace  facta,  epulatus  in  navi  cum  Antonio  et  Caesare,  non  invenuste  ait :  Hae  sunt 
meae  carinae  ;  quia  Romae  in  Carinis  domum  cius  Antonius  tenebat.' — [cap.  Ixxxiv.] 
It  is  doubtful  that  even  Theobald's  insistence  can  make  us  believe  that  Shakespeare 
had  Pompcy's  •  witticism '  here  in  mind  ;  had  he  ever  heard  it  or  known  it,  an  allusion 
to  it  would  have  been  more  appropriate  in  II.  vi,  102,  where  Pompey  says  « Aboord 
my  Galley,  I  inuite  you  all.*  Is  it  not  enough  that  Shakespeare  found  in  Plutarch 
that  Antony  kept  possession  of  Pompey* s  house?     See  Appendix,— "^Vi. 

154.  Take  heed  you  faU  not]  Capell  (i,  36) :  Speaking  to  some  of  them  (Pom- 
pey,  probably),  whom  he  sees  stagger :  After  which,  the  boat  puts  off  with  it's  com- 
pany ;  and  Enobarbus,  who  has  not  yet  had  his  dose,  turns  to  Menas,  and  says — 
*  Menas,  P II  not  on  shore,'  and  is  reply*d  to  by  Menas,— <  No,  to  my  cabin.'  This 
is  the  arrangement  of  the  passage  before  us ;  and  so  palpably  right,  that  the  reader 
shall  not  be  insulted  with  any  proofs  of  it :  What  he  finds  in  the  modems,— or  may 
find,  if  he  is  so  dispos'd, — took  its  rise  from  the  negligent  folio's.— [The  Text.  Notes 
show  that  this  arrangement  of  Capell  is  now  adopted  by  all  editors.] 


170 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  II,  sc.  vii. 


No  to  my  Cabin  :  thefe  Drummes, 
Thefe  Trumpets,  Flutes  :  what 
Let  Neptune  heare,  we  bid  aloud  farewell 
To  thefe  great  Fellowes.Sound  and  be  hanged,  found  out. 

Sound  a  Flaurijh  with  Drumnus. 

Enor.     Hoo  faies  a  there's  my  Cap. 

Men.    Hoa,  Noble  Captaine,  come.  Exeunt. 


iSS 


160 


I55'X5S.  the/e...out,'\  Lines  end,  i/ar 
,.,feUcws;..,out*  Cap. 

155.  No]  No;  Han. 

I55>  156-  No^.^what]  One  line,  Han. 

tke/e  Drummes,  ...  wka^l  One 
line,  Var.  '78  et  seq. 

Drumnus,  TTiefe  Trumpets^ 
Flutes  ••]  Drums  !  —  These  Trumpets^ 
Flutes!  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  drums! 
these  trumpets  !  Han.  drums^  these  trum- 
pets ^  flutes.  Cap. 

156.  what]  what,  F^.    what —  Cap. 


what!  Rowe  et  cet. 

157.  aloud  ]  a  loud  Rowe  ii. 

160.  Enor.]  F,. 

Hoo'lYi,  -«w,  Rowe,  +  .  Hoo! 
Dyce,  Wh.  Cam.  Ho,  or  Ho!  Cap.  et 
cet 

fates  a  therms]  fates  a,  therms 
FjF^.  says  a!  There's  Rowe  et  seq. 
(subs.) 

161.  /^<>tf,]  Ff,Rowe,  +  .  Hoo!I>jct, 
Wh.  Cam.  Ho!  or  Ho,  Var.  '73  et 
cet 


155.  these  Drummes]  Staunton  {Atherutum,  26  Apr.  1873),  who  adopts,  in 
common  with  all  modem  editions,  the  division  of  lines  in  the  Var.  of  1778  (see 
Text,  Notes),  observes :  '  There  is  an  obvious  deficiency  in  this  line.  As  a  stop-gap, 
we  might  read, — *'  Where  now  are  these  drums,"  etc.*  In  attempting  to  scan  these 
lines,  we  must  remember  that  their  rhythm  was  not  composed  by  Shakespeare  but  by 
Steevens;  a  fact  which  Abbott  (§  509)  overlooked  when  he  said  that  the  present 
line  '  occurs  amid  regular  verse.* 

z6i.  Exeunt]  Corson  (p.  292)  :  There  is  no  other  scene  in  all  the  plays  of 
Shakespeare,  perhaps,  which  exhibits  a  more  complete  dramatic  identification  on 
the  part  of  the  poet,  than  this  banquet  scene.  There  must  have  been  at  the  time 
of  his  writing  it,  the  fullest  sympathetic  reproduction  within  himself,  of  the  several 
characters. — Staffer  (p.  416) :  Voltaire's  indignation  is  well  known  at  Shake- 
speare's so-called  tragedies  which  are  only  *  farces  in  which  the  burlesque  and  the 
horrible  are  united/  and  in  which  we  see  '  the  lowest  rabble  appearing  on  the  stage 
by  the  side  of  princes,  and  princes  often  using  the  same  language  as  the  mob.' 
Judgements  of  this  kind  belong  to  a  period  in  which  the  characters  of  a  tragedy  were 
merely  regarded  as  so  many  lay  figures,  who  were  expected  to  act  in  a  solemn  and 
ceremonious  manner,  especial  care  being  taken  that  they  should  speak  in  the  most 
courtly  style  and  be  able  to  make  court-curtseys ;  and  they  belong  moreover  to  a 
country  in  which  the  spirit  of  society  and  of  high-bred  manners  has  always  been 
peculiarly  cultivated  and  prized,  and  this  differs  as  widely  from  the  humourous  sjnrit 
as  one  of  our  garden  plants  does  from  a  foreign  wild  flower.  These  adverse  opinions, 
however,  do  not  prevent  the  banquet  on  board  Pompey*8  vessel  from  being  a  most 
excellent  scene,  and  one  even  more  thoroughly  Shakespearian  perhaps  than  the 
passages  most  celebrated  for  beauty  in  his  plays,  since  in  this  particular  kind  of 
humourous  presentation  he  is  not  only  unrivalled,  but  has  neither  follower  nor  fore- 
runner.  *  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity ; '  what  more  amazing  or  more  grotesque 
commentary  on  this  philosophical  truth,  which  lies  at  the  basis  of  the  spirit  of  humoor, 


ACT  III,  sc.  i.]       ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA 


171 


\A6lus  Tertius.     Scene  /.] 


Enter  Ventidius  as  it  were  in  trinmphj  the  dead  body  of  Paco^ 

ms  borne  before  hint. 

Ven.     Now  darting  Parthya  art  thou  ftroke,  and  now 
PleasM  Fortune  does  of  Marcus  Crajfus  death 
Make  me  reuenger.     Beare  the  Kings  Sonnes  body, 
Before  our  Army  thy  Pacorus  Grades^ 
Paies  this  for  Marcus  Crajfus. 

Romaine.     Noble  VentidiuSy 


5 


8 


Act  III.  Scene  i.  Rowe. 
A  Camp.  Rowe.     A  Camp  in  a  part 
of  Sjria.  Theob. 

1-43.  Om.  Gar. 

1,2.  Enter. ..him.]  Enter  Ventidius  in 
Triomph... before  him,  Roman  Soldiers 
and  Attendants.  Rowe.  Enter,  as  from 
Conquest,  Ventidius,  with  Silius,  and 
other  Romans,  Officers  and  Soldiers... 
him.  Cap. 


3.  Parthya\  Parthia  Ff. 

Jlroke\ftrookY^,   JlruckY^, 

6.  Army  thy^  Army,  thy  Ff,  Rowe  i. 
host;  thy  Pope,  +  .  army.  Thy  Coll. 
Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  army;  thy  Rowe  ii  et 
cet.  (subs.) 

Grades]  Orodes  Rowe. 

8.  Romaine.]  Romane  F,.  Roman. 
FjF^.  Rom.  Rowe.  Sil.  Theob.  et 
seq. 


Goald  be  found  than  this  scene,  in  which  the  lires  of  the  Triumyirs  depend  upon  a 
rope  that  Pompej  had  only  to  say  the  word  to  hare  cut,  and  in  which  Lepidus,  <  the 
triple  pillar  of  the  world,'  rolls  dead  drunk  under  the  table,  and  is  carried  off  on  the 
back  of  a  slave. 

I.  Ventidius]  See  Plutarch,  Appendix. 

I.  as  it  were  in  triumph]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  opines  that  it  is  all  the  more  needful 
that  the  phrase, '  as  it  were  in  triumph  *  should  be  retained,  because  *  Plutarch  tells  us 
that  Ventidius  was  the  only  Roman  who,  up  to  that  day,  **  had  triumphed  of  the 
Parthians."'  Delius,  howcYcr,  interprets  (Sh,  Jhrb.  viii,  200)  the  phrase  some- 
what differently.  He  thinks  that  Shakespeare,  in  using  this  phrase,  meant  to  indi- 
cate that  the  comrades  and  subordinates  of  the  General  appeared  also  in  the  pro- 
cession. In  this  connection  Delius  suggests  with  ingenuity  that  we  may  infer  from 
the  somewhat  fuller  stage-directions  in  the  present  play,  that  Shakespeare  was  not 
himself  personally  concerned  in  its  performance ;  and  that,  therefore,  he  wrote  out 
the  directions  to  the  actors  more  explicitly. — Ed. 

3.  darting  Parthya]  Wordsworth  cites  two  classical  passages  wherein  darts  are 
representative  of  the  Parthians.  The  first  is  <  Miles  [timet]  sagittas  et  celerem  fugam 
Parthi.' — Horace,  Odes^  II,  xiii.  The  second,  *  Addam  .  .  .  Fidentemque  fuga  Par- 
thum  Tersisque  sagittis.' — Virgil,  Georgics^  iii,  31. — Deighton:  A  reference  to  the 
Parthian  method  of  fighting,  their  horsemen  pouring  in  a  shower  of  darts  as  they 
swarmed  round  the  enemy,  and  then,  as  they  fled  to  avoid  close  combat,  turning  in 
their  saddles  and  discharging  flights  of  arrows. 

3.  art  thou  stroke]  Johnson  :  Alludes  to  *  darting.'  Thou  whose  darts  hare  so 
often  struck  others,  art  struck  now  thyself. 


172 


THE  TRACE  DIE  OF 


[act  in,  sc.  i. 


Whil'ft  yet  with  Parthian  blood  thy  Sword  is  warme, 
The  Fugitiue  Parthians  follow.     Spurre  through  Media, 
Mefapotamia^and  the  ihelters,  whether 
The  routed  flie.     So  thy  grand  Captaine  Anthony 
Shall  fet  thee  on  triumphant  Chariots,  and 
Put  Garlands  on  thy  head. 
Ven.     Oh  Sillius jSUliuSy 
I  haue  done  enough.     Alower  place  note  well 
May  make  too  great  an  a£L     For  leame  this  SilliuSy 
Better  to  leaue  vndone,  then  by  our  deed 
Acquire  too  high  a  Fame,  when  him  we  ferues  away. 


lo 


15 


19 


10.  Tke..,follow.'\  Follow  the  fugitive 
Parthians  ;  Words. 

Spurre]  Spume  F,.    Spurn  F^F^, 
Rowe. 

11.  Afe/apotamia^AfesepotamiaFopt, 
whether]  whither  Ff. 

13.   Chariots]  Charriots  F  . 

15-19.  Oh  Sillias...aicrtf^.]  Lines  end, 
done ...  mahe  ...  detter ...  acquire.., away, 
Han. 

15.  Oh  Sillios,  Sillius,]  Silius,  Han. 

15,  17.  Sillius]  Silius  F^F^,  Rowe. 


16.  /  haue]  Vve  Popc,  +  ,  Dyce  ii, 

•  •  • 

ui. 

Ahwer]  F,. 

pltue  note  well]  plaee^  note  well 
Ff,  {palce  F,).  plaee^  note  well^  Rowe 
et  seq. 

18,  19.  Better ..,  Acquire]  One  Hzie, 
Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Coll.  Wh.  Hal. 

19.  him]  he  Pope,  + ,  Cap.  Van*.  Ran. 
femes    away]   fem^    sway    F^ 

serve^  *s  away    Theob.   Warb.   Johns. 
ferv^s  away  F^F^  ct  cet. 


13.  Chariots]  Walker  {Crit,  i,  253)  says:  *  Chariot,  surely.'  Dycb,  inde- 
pendently, made  the  same  conjecture,  and  Hudson  adopted  it  in  his  text  But  the 
Cowdrn-Clarkbs  remark  that  a  plural  used  in  this  way  [as  also  in  *  Garlands  *]  is 
not  infrequent  among  poets  and  poetic  writers  or  speakers,  to  give  the  effect  of  , 
amplitude  and  generalisation.  Compare  [Paulina's  passionate  speech  to  Leontes  in] 
The  mntet's  Tale,  «What  flaying?  boiling?  In  leads  or  oils ? '—HI,  ii,  191. 

16.  Alower  place  note  well,  etc.]  Theobald  (ed.  i) :  Plutarch  particularly  Ukes 
notice,  that  Ventidius  was  careful  to  act  only  on  Lieutenantry ;  and  cautious  of  aim- 
ing at  any  glory  in  his  own  name  and  person.  But  the  sentiments  he  throws  in  here, 
seem  directly  copied  from  Quintus  Curtius,  in  Antipater's  behaviour  with  regard  to 
Alexander : — Et,  quanquam  fortuna  renim  placebat,  invidiam  tamen,  quia  majores  ra 
erant,  quam  quas  Praefecti  modus  caperet,  metuebat.  Quippe  Alexander  hostes  Tinci 
iroluerat ;  Antipatrum  vicisse,  ne  tacitus  quidem  indig^abatur ;  sua  demptum  gloriae 
existimansy  quicquid  cessisset  alienae.  Itaque  Antipater,  qui  probe  nosset  ^iritum 
ejus,  non  est  ausus  ipse  agere  arbitria  victoria.  — \Y^.  vi,  cap.  I.] — J.  Churtoh 
Collins  (p.  310) :  Theobald  most  happily  furnishes  the  best  of  illustrations  by  quot- 
ing Antipater's  behaviour  with  regard  to  Alexander  the  Great. — [Collins  hereupon  • 
quotes  the  foregoing  passage  from  Quintuff  Curtius,  but  by  a  slip  of  the  pen  reads 
dignabatur  instead  of '  indignabatur.' — Ed.] 

17-19.  For  leame  . .  .  serues  away]  The  scansion  of  these  lines  has  much 
perturbed  the  critics.  Steevens  was  the  earliest  to  suggest  an  amendment,  but  he 
went  no  further  than  to  omit  *to*  in  line  18:  'Better  leave  undone,  than  by  our 
deed.'     Walker  {Crit,  iii,  300)  was  more  vigorous ;  he  re-arranged  the  lines  thus : 


ACT  III.  sc.  i.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  173 

Qefar  and  Anthony ^  haue  euer  wonne  20 

More  in  their  officer,  then  perfon.     Soffius 

One  of  my  place  in  Syria,  his  Lieutenant, 

For  quicke  accumulation  of  renowne, 

Which  he  atchiuM  byWminute,  loft  his  fauour. 

Who  does  i'th'Warres  more  then  his  Captaine  can,  25 

Becomes  his  Captaines  Captaine  :  andA  mbition 

(The  Souldiers  vertue  )rather  makes  choife  of  loffe 

Then  gaine,  which  darkens  him. 

I  could  do  more  to  do  Anthonitis  good, 

But  'twould  offend  him .     And  in  his  offence,  30 

Should  my  performance  perifh. 

Rom.     Thou  haft  Ventiditts  that,  without  the  which  a  32 

20, 2 1 .  Csefinr . .  .per/on]  Given  to  Silius,  Vmtidius  . . .  swcrd,  . . .  Antony  f  Stecv. 
Ran.  Var.  *03, ' 1 3.    Mfl/, . .,sword, . .  Antony  t 

31.  Soflius]  Sosius  Rowe,  Pope.  Cap.  et  cet. 

24.  hf]  Om.  F^F^.  32,  40.  Rom.]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.    SiL 

atchit^d^  atchim/d  ¥^F^.  Theob.  et  ccL 

6/tA']  by  th'  Ff.  32.   Thou,., that, '\   Thou'st  that,  Ven- 

2S-31.    Th^n  ...  periflt.'\    Lines  end,  tidim,  Elze. 

more,,. him  ;.„perish,  Han.  the'\    Om.    Steer.   Var.  '03,  '13, 

32-34.   Tii^M... Anthony.]  Lines  end.  Words. 
wkUh , , .  distinction  :..  .Antony.  Rowe,  + . 

'  For  learn  this,  Silius :  Better  |  To  leave  undone,  than  by  our  deed  acquire,'  etc. 
He  then  suggests  another  arrangement :  *  Better  to  leave  undone,  |  Than  by  our 
deed  acquire  too  high  a  fame,  |  When  him  we  serves  away.*  Whereby,  disregarding 
the  plight  in  which  he  leaves  two  trimeter  couplets  :  *  May  make  too  great  an  act,' 
and  *When  him  we  serves  away,'  he  has  in  reality  accomplished  nothing.  He 
has  eliminated  no  discord;  there  is  no  discord  to  be  eliminated,— the  lines  are 
rhythmical  howsoever  they  are  divided.  Unless  the  lines  are  uttered  in  the  veriest 
sing-song,  no  ear  can  detect  how  or  where  they  are  divided.  I  cannot  doubt  that 
had  Walker  lived  to  revise  his  work,  he  would  have  omitted  much  that  was  merely 
the  passing  fancy  of  the  moment.  Yet  Dyce,  who  is  extremely  chary  of  notes,  reprints 
in  fall  these  suggestions  of  Walker.  Abbott  ({  498)  observes :  *  We  might  arrange 
"Better  l^ve  |  undone,  |  than  b^  |  our  d^ed  |  acquire."  Or  [line  18]  might  be 
(but  there  is  not  pause  enough  to  make  it  probable)  a  trimeter  couplet.'  Lastly, 
Wordsworth  amends  and  divides  :  '  For  learn,  'tis  better  |  To  leave  undone,  than 
by  our  deed  acquire  |  Too  high  a  fame  when  him  we  serve's  away.' — Ed. 

19.  when  him  we  semes  away]  For  other  examples  of  '  him '  used  for  he,  by 
attraction  to  whom  understood,  see,  if  need  be,  Abbott,  {  208. 

21.  More  in  their  officer,  then  person]  It  is  possible  that  in  the  final  n  of 
*then'  there  is  an  absorption  of  in :  *  then'  person.' — Ed. 

24.  by*th'minute]  Deighton  :  That  is,  each  minute. 

28.  which  darkens  him]  After  *  him,*  Keightley  marks  an  omission,  as  of  an 
incomplete  sentence. 

32,  33.  Thou  hast  Ventidius  that,  .  .  .  graunts  scarce  distinction]  Warsur- 


174 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  III,  sc.  i. 


Souldier  and  his  Sword  grunts  fcarce  diftin£lion  :  thou 
wilt  write  to  Anthony. 

Ven.    He  humbly  fignifie  what  in  his  name. 
That  magicall  word  of  Warre  we  haue  effefted, 
How  with  his  Banners^and  his  well  paid  ranks, 
The  nere-yet  beaten  Horfe  of  Parthia, 
We  haue  iaded  out  oWField. 

Rom.    Where  is  he  now  ? 

Ven.HG  purpofeth  to  Athens,  whither  with  what  haft 
The  waight  we  muft  conuay  withes,  will  permit : 
We  fliall  appeare  before  him.     On  there  ,paffe  along. 

Exeunt. 


33 


35 


40 


44 


33.  and  his  Sword  graunts^  from  his 
sword  Gains  Huds.  con]. 

graunts'^grant  Han.  Wmrb.  Johns. 
gains  Coll.  ii,  m  (MS),  KUy,  Hnds. 
grants  Ff  et  cet 

graunls  /carce]  scarce  gains 
Words. 

34.  Anthony.]  Ff,  Rowe  i,  Han. 
Antony,  Rowe  ii,  Pope.  Antony  t  Theob. 
ctseq. 

36.   Warre  we]  war,  we  Rowe. 
SJ.  we//^id]we//pai*dF^F^.   welt- 
'pend  Pope  et  seq. 

38.    The]  That  Rowe  ii,  Pope. 


38.  nere-yet   beaten]    n^  er-yet-heaten 
Theob.  et  seq. 

39.  We  haue]  »VwPope,+. 

41.  Athens^  Athens  ;  Rowe.   Athens, 
Johns. 

whither]   Om.   Pope,+.      where 
Cap.  Walker. 

42.  waight]  weight  F,F^. 

conuay]  convay  F,.    convey  F^F^. 
with*s]  with  us  Cap.  Varr.  Mai. 
Ran.  Steer.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Hal. 

permit :]  permit,  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 

43.  On  there]  Om.  Pope,  Han. 


TON :  *  Grant,'  for  afford.  The  sense  is  this :  '  Thou  hast  that,  Ventidios,  which  if 
thou  didst  want,  there  would  be  no  distinction  between  thee  and  thy  sword.  You 
would  be  both  equally  cutting  and  senseless.'  This  was  wisdom  or  knowledge  of 
the  world.  Ventidius  had  told  him  the  reasons  why  he  did  not  pursue  his  adTan* 
tages ;  and  his  friend,  by  this  compliment,  acknowledges  them  to  be  of  weight. — 
Capell  (i,  36)  :  Meaning— wisdom  or  knowledge  of  the  world  :  *  without  which,' 
the  soldier  afibrds  scarcely  anything  to  distinguish  him  from  his  sword  ;  the  sword, 
in  that  case,  doing  nearly  as  much  service,  and  being  of  equal  value  with  himself. 
This  maxim,  and  others  with  which  the  scene  is  embellish' d,  are  form*d  out  of  veiy 
slight  hints  the  Poet  found  in  his  Plutarch ;  which,  if  they  are  tum'd  to,  will  shew 
with  how  sharp  a  judgment  he  look'd  into  the  authors  he  dealt  with.  [See  Ap* 
pendix.] 

39.  iaded]  Schmidt  (Lex.)  :  That  is,  to  treat  like  a  jade,  to  spurn,  to  kick. 

41-43.  He  purposeth  .  .  .  passe  along]  Walkbk  ( Crit.  iii,  300) :  Arrange^ 
perhaps  : — '  He  purposeth  |  To  Athens ;  whither  with  what  haste  the  weight  |  We 
must  convey  with's  will  permit,  we  shall  |  Appear  before  him, — On,  there;  pass 
along.' 

42.  with's,]  Thiselton  (p.  17)  :  The  Folio  punctuation  is  here  quite  in  con- 
sonance with  Elizabethan  usage,  the  comma  after  <  with*s '  marking  the  end  of  the 
relative  clause. 

NcWfon><»->  if^VA  an).  mJLi, '<i -twtlr*  ^  *tx>    ^"^   <^V^A>iw 


ACT  III,  sc.  u.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


175 


[Scene  //.] 

Enter  Agrippa  at  one  doarey  Enobarbus  at  another. 

Agri.     What  are  the  Brothers  parted  ? 

Eno.    They  haue  difpatcht  with  Pompey^h^  is  gone. 
The  other  th  ree  are  Sealing.     OUauia  weepes 
To  part  from  Rome  :  Ccefar  is  fad,  and  Lepidus 
Since  Pompe^s  feaft,  as  Menas  faies,  is  troub  led 
With  the  Greene-Sickneffe. 

Agri.     ^Tis  a  Noble  Lepidus. 

Eno.    A  very  fine  one :  oh,  how  he  loues  Ccefar. 

Agri.     Nay  but  how  deerely  he  adores  Mark  Anthony. 

Eno.     Ccefar  ?  why  he's  the  lupiter  of  men. 

Ant.    What's  Anthony y\}cit  God  of  lupiter  ? 

Eno.    Spake  you  of  Cafar  ?  How,  the  non-pardll  ? 

Agri.     Oh  Anthony y  oh  thou  Arabian  Bird ! 


10 


14 


Scene  II.  Rowe  eC  seq. 

Rome.   Rowe.     An  Anti-room  in 
Caesar's  House.  Cap. 

I.  Enter...]  Enter  Agrippa  and  Eno- 
baibusy  meeting.  Cap. 

1-79.  Om.  Gar. 

3.   Wkai^Whai^'Kxsm^,   WhatlQoVi, 

7.   GreefU'SickneJfe\  ¥(,  Rowe,  Pope, 
I.  Ktly.  ^ten  sicktuss  Theob.  et  seq. 
12.  Ant]  Agr.  Rowe. 

Anthony,]  An/ony  ^  Johns,  etseq. 


12.  lupiter  r\  Jupiter,  Johns,  et  seq. 

13.  SpakeJ  Speak  FjF^,  Rowe,  +  . 
H<my'\    Oh  I    F,,    Rowe,    Pope, 

Theob.  Warb.  Oht  F,F^.  oh  Han. 
O,  Cap.  H<rwl  Coll.  Dyce,  Wh.  Glo. 
Cam.  HaL  Ktly.  JJo /StA.  haw  ^  Johns, 
et  cet 

14.  Oh  Anthony f  oh  thoul  0/ Antony  f 
oh  the  Han.  Of  Antony  f  O  thou  M. 
Mason,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

Oh  ...  ohj   O ...  O^  Cap.  et  seq. 
(subs.) 


4.  Sealing]  That  is,  finishing,  concluding  their  agreements. 

14.  thou  Arabian  Bird]  '  There  is  another  sacred  bird,  called  the  phcenix,  which 
I  myself  have  seen  only  in  a  picture ;  for,  as  the  citizens  of  Helios  say,  it  visits  them 
only  periodically,  every  five  hundred  years ;  they  state  that  it  always  comes  on  the 
death  of  its  sire.  If  it  at  all  resembles  its  picture,  it  is  thus  and  so :  some  of  its 
leathers  are  golden-hued,  and  some  are  red  ;  in  shape  and  figure  it  most  resembles 
the  eagle  and  in  size  also.  They  say,  but  I  cannot  credit  it,  that  this  bird  contrives 
to  bring  from  Arabia  to  the  temple  of  Helios  the  body  of  its  father  plastered  up  in 
myirii,  and  there  buries  it.  The  mode  of  carrying  it  is  as  follows : — first,  he  plasters 
together  an  egg  of  m3rrrh  as  large  as  he  is  able  to  carry,  after  he  has  tested  his 
strength  by  carrying  it ;  this  trial  having  been  made,  he  hollows  out  the  egg  suf- 
ficiently to  place  his  father  within,  then  with  fresh  myrrh  he  fills  up  the  space 
onoccupied  by  his  father's  body ;  the  egg  thereby  becomes  of  the  same  weight  as 
before,  and  thus  plastered  up  he  transports  it  to  Egypt  to  the  temple  of  Helios.  Such 
things,  they  say,  this  bird  can  accomplish.' — Herodotus^  Lib.  ii,  cap.  73. 


176  THE  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  in,  sc.  iL 

Emo.  Would  you  praife  Ge/ary  ixy  Cit/ar\ go  no  further.  1 5 

Agr.lndttd  he  plied  them  both  with  excellent  praifes. 
Etta.     But  he  loues  Ca/ar  heft,  yet  he  loues  Anthony  i 

Hoo,  Hearts,  Tongues,  Figure, 

Scribes,  Bards,  Poets,  cannot 

Thinke  fpeake,  caft,  write,  fmg,  number  :  hoo. 

His  loue  to  Anthony.     But  as  for  Qb/ot^ 


15.  fmy  Ofar]   say  •  CfMr,*   Dyce, 
Sbk.  Gla  Cam.  (sabs.)  JC\  ai.  Tkimkt..Jm»e\  One  liae.  Gap. 


/v]  Om.  Sleer.  conj.  Van;  Ran.  Slecv.  Vair.  Knt. 

fmriktr^  fmrHUr  Cap.  CoU.  Wk.  aoi   Tkimkt^  Evtr  UkimJk  Kdj, 


HaL  ummhr} 

i>>  i»  /ft#....Ai«iiir]  Odc  Kne,  Rowe  kdL 
•t  acq.  ilM,]  F^^    A«»  F^  Rove.  Fspe, 

18.  .««>]  F.F,.    /U^  F^.    i^.'  Haa.  Cap.  Van.  Mai.  SIkt.  Vair.  KttL   Amf 

Dyce.     //^r/Rowectcet  Han.  Djce»  Wb.     A#  /  Tbaob.  ci  oeL 


flfgmr<t'\J^gytrts  Haik  Cap.  ct  se(|.  ai»  as.  Oe£ff.  JjMefr]  Gaar,  Jtmett^ 

J  Linea  cod*        i:jMe/ Cape  Van.  RaiL 


iS-aa  H««its,  —  munber]  Joh2«sok  :  Nat  only  die  tasioloej  of  'bagda'  and 
^poets'  bat  &e  vaaC  of  a  cofrespoadcat  adioii  lor  the  ' poet,' 
aaat  hae  is  ooly  to  *  aamber/  makes  aae  aaapect  sooae  fcait  ia  this 
kaow  Bot  horn  k>  bkixL — Stcxtims:  I  saspcct  ao  Suit.    Tbe 
kis  cosapositiotts  lo  &e  harp;  dke/MToely  mmaiifs  Aem  to  papcn 
called  maumSierM^  and  to  *■  aaaibcr^'  a  verb  (m  diis  acaae)  of 
i»  ma4r  verses*    This  poerile  anaafaaeBt  of 
Skakspcaie^  evea  by  die  first  wrkcfs^     Sck  ia  Am  ExcdUmt 
Sir  F.  Sidaqr ;  pnatad  ia  Emglami^s  Ne&ctm,  1600: 


*  Veftae»  bcaadew  aad  speeche,  did  stzike. 

My  heart,  eyes»  eare%  with  voader.  Ioae;»  delight ; 
Ftrst«  secoed,  last  <fid  btade*  eoibice.  aad  anae 

His  wocks^  shoves^  soles,  with  wit,  pace«  aad 
Thus  hoBoor,  likiag,  trast.  aiuch,  fivie,  aad  dcepe; 

Held,  pearst,  possesst,  my  iudgmeot,  seace  aad  will ; 
TUi  wroo^  cootempt,  deceite,  did  giow»  steale,  creepa^ 

Haads,  fiaaour,  6uth  to  bceake,  defie«  aad  kill ; 
Thea  griefe,  viikindBes^  proofed  tooke^  kiadled,  txafjhi; 

Well- pounded,  oobleft  doe^  spite*  xa^ew  disdaaae. 
But  ah,  alas»  ta  mtae^  my  mtade,  sight,  thought, 

I>)th  bsBi,  his  fiace,  his  words  leaae,  shonae,  ggftarne- : 
For  Boching»  tiaie  nor  place,  can  loose,  qaeach,  case 
MiaeowoMbeBibrac^  sought,  knot,  fire,diwfaar  ' — [ed.  fTimit,  i»  197.] 

aow  Tbtnka  .  .  .  boo]   Dyce:    SooMthing  was  dropped  oat  from  this 
R.  C  Whits  doubts  Dyce's  assertioo,  and  9^!dn   The  moaosynabic 
aad  iDtemapted  dow  make  ihe  line  seem  rather  mperduous  thaa  de&neaL. 

aow  caai]  This  ooffespQads  to  *  Figaie^*  aad  coQ:>ei{aeatiy  meaas  to 


ACT  III,  sc.  ii.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  177 

Kneele  downe,  kneele  downe,  and  wonder.  22 

Agri.     Both  he  loues. 

Eno,     They  are  his  Shards,  and  he  their  Beetle,  fo: 
This  is  to  horfe  :  Adieu,  Noble  Agrippa,  25 

Agri.     Grood  Fortune  worthy  Souldier,  and  farewell. 

Enter  Cce/ar ,  Anthony j  Lepidtis  j  and  0£lauia. 

Antho.     No  further  Sir. 

Ca/ar,     You  take  from  me  a  great  part  of  my  felfe: 
Vfe  me  well  in't.     Sifter,  proue  fuch  a  wife  30 

As  my  thoughts  make  thee,  and  as  my  fartheft  Band 
Shall  paffe  on  thy  approofe  :  moft  Noble  Anthony^ 
Let  not  the  peece  of  Vertue  which  is  fet 
Betwixt  vs,  as  the  Cyment  of  our  loue 
To  keepe  it  builded,  be  the  Ramme  to  batter  35 

22.  Kneele  downe^kneele\  Kneel,  kneel  28.  further]  farther  Ff,  Rowc,  Pope, 

H«n.  Theob.  Warb.  Cap.  Coll.  Wh.  Hal. 

wonder.]  wonder —  Rowc,  Pope,  [To  Caefar.  Cap, 

Thcob.  Warb.  Johns.  30-  «»'^]  «»  ^  Var.  '73,  '78,  '85,  Mai. 

24.  BeetU.fo:]  Ff.    beetle,  so— "^oyr^.  Ran.  Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Knt,  ColL  i. 

,  Theob.  Warb.     beetle;  [Trumpet  31.  and  as]  and  Pope,  Theob.  Han. 


within]  w.  Cap.  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  (subs.)  Warb. 

l^etiU,  So^  Han.  Johns,  et  seq.  (subs.)  farthefl]  furthest   Johns.    Varr. 

25.  [Trumpets.  Rowe.  Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Dyce. 

Noble]  most  noble  Ktly.  Band]  bond  Rowe, +  ,  Cap. 

37.  Ofbuia.]  Oaavi.  F,.  34.   Cyment]  Cement  F^F^. 


24.  Shards]  Steevens  :  That  is  the  wings  that  raise  this  heavy  lumpish  insect 
fiom  the  ground. — [The  *  shards'  are  not  the  wings,  but  the  wing-cases,  the  Elytra; 
they  do  not  raise  the  insect  from  the  ground,  but  merely  open  to  allow  the  wings  to 
mifold ;  and  the  '  insects '  are  rarely  '  heavy  and  lumpish,' — with  these  exceptions 
Steevens's  definition  is  excellent. — Ed.] 

24.  so]  From  the  days  of  Rowe  this  *  so  '  has  been  generally  supposed  to  refer  to 
Trumpets  summoning  the  soldiers  to  horse.  Drighton  interprets  it  merely  as  '  very 
good.' 

31,  32.  my  farthest  Band  Shall  passe  on  thy  approofe]  Johnson  :  As  I  will 
▼tfbture  the  greatest  pledge  of  security,  on  the  trial  of  thy  conduct. — Malone: 
<  Band '  and  bond,  in  our  author's  time,  were  synonymous. 

33.  peece  of  Vertue]  This  phrase  bears  a  double  meaning ;  *  piece  *  may  mean  a 
'  specimen,  or  example,  and  be  applied  to  an  abstract  thing '  (see  Murray,  N.  E.  D, 
s.  V,  piece,  8,  b.)  ;  and  it  may  also  mean  a  woman  (see  op.  cit.  9,  b.)  which  is,  I  think, 
the  better  meaning  here,  as  it  is  also  in  The  Tempest^  *  Thy  Mother  was  a  peece  of 
▼ertue.' — I,  ii,  69. 

34.  Cyment]  For  a  list  of  many  words  wherein  <  the  accent  is  nearer  the  begin* 
ning  than  with  us,'  see  Abbott,  §  492. 

35.  To  keepe  it  builded]  Malone:  Compare  Sonnet^  119:  'And  ruin'd  love, 
when  it  is  built  anew.  Grows  fairer  than  at  first,'  etc 

za 


178  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  m,  sc.  ii. 

The  Fortreffe  of  itfor  better  might  we  36 

Haue  louM  without  this  meane,  if  onboth  parts 
This  be  not  cheriiht 

Ant.     Make  me  not  oflfended^  in  your  diftruft. 

Cafar.     I  haue  faid.  40 

Ant.     You  fhall  not  finde^ 
Though  you  be  therein  curious,  the  left  caufe 
For  what  you  feeme  to  feare,  fo  the  Gods  keepe  you, 
And  make  the  hearts  of  Romaines  feme  your  ends  : 
We  will  heere  part.  45 

Cce/ar.     Farewell  my  deereft  Sifter,  fare  thee  well. 
The  Elements  be  kind  to  thee,  and  make  47 

36.  Fortreffe]    Fortune    Ff,    Rowe,    .        40.  I  haue]  Pve  Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 

Pope.  42.  tkereitt]  certain  Rowe  ii,  Pope. 

fV]  ii  down  Ktly.  Uft]  leajl  Ft 

better]  much  better  Han.  far  better  43.  feare^  fo]  fear;  so,  Pope  et  seq. 

Cap.  Walker,  Dyce  ii,  iii.  44.  Romaines]  Romanes  F,.   Romans 

39.  //ai^...^;^>i»^/^]  One  line,  Rowe  ^3^4* 

et  seq.  ferue]  feure  Sta.  Photo-lith, 

42.  curious]  Dyce  ( Gloss, )  :  That  is  scrupulous,  over-punctilious. 

47.  The  Elements  be  kind  to  thee]  Johnson  :  This  is  obscure.  Its  seems  to 
mean,  *  May  the  different  elements  of  the  body,  or  principles  of  life,  maintain  such 
proportion  and  harmony  as  may  keep  you  cheerful.' — Steevens:  I  believe  this 
means  only,  *  May  the  four  elements  of  which  this  world  is  composed,  unite  their 
influences  to  make  thee  cheerful.'  [Or  it]  may,  indeed,  mean  no  more  than  the 
common  compliment  which  the  occasion  of  her  voyage  very  naturally  required.  He 
wbhes  '  that  serene  weather  and  prosperous  winds  may  keep  her  spirits  free  from 
every  apprehension  that  might  disturb  or  alarm  them.* — M.  Mason  :  Octavia  was 
about  to  make  a  long  journey  both  by  land  and  by  water.  Her  brother  wishes  that 
both  these  elements  may  prove  kind  to  her ;  and  this  is  all. — Staunton  :  There  is 
a  passage,  altogether  forgotten  by  the  commentators,  in  Jul.  Cas.  V,  v,  which  is 
entirely  confirmatory  of  Dr  Johnson's  interpretation  :  *  His  life  was  gentle  ;  and  the 
elements  So  mix'd  in  him,  that  Nature  might  stand  up,  And  say  to  all  the  world,  7%is 
was  a  man  /' — [It  seems  useless  to  contend  over  the  meaning  of  '  Elements'  in  this 
sentence  ;  its  meaning  must  be  determined  by  the  context.  *  The  elements '  mean, 
in  general,  earth,  water,  air,  and  fire,  and  of  these  man  is  supposed  to  be  composed  ; 
'  the  due  proportion  and  commixture  whereof  in  his  composition,'  says  Nares  (x.  v. 
Elements)  *  were  what  produced  in  him  every  kind  of  perfection,  mental  and  bodily.* 
Thus  Cleopatra  says,  *  I  am  Fire,  and  Ajrre ;  my  other  Elements  [f.  e.  earth  and 
water]  I  give  to  baser  life.' — V,  ii,  341.  Sir  Toby  Belch  asks,  *  Does  not  our  Hues 
consist  of  the  foure  elements?' — Twelfth  Night,  II,  iii,  ii.  Or  as  Anthony  in  the 
present  play  says  of  the  Crocodile,  '  the  elements  once  out  of  it,  it  Transmigrates.' — 
II,  vii,  52.  The  four  elements  may  also  exist  external  to  man,  and  when  used  in  the 
singular,  <the  element'  may  mean  the  air  or  the  sky,  as  in  Twelfth  Night,  where 
Valentine  says  of  Olivia,  *■  The  Element  itselfe,  till  seuen  yeares  heate,  Shall  not 


ACT  III.  sc.  ii.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  179 

Thy  fpirits  all  of  comfort  :  fare  thee  well.  48 

0£la.     My  Noble  Brother. 

Anth.     The  Aprill*s  in  her  eyes,  it  is  Loues  fpring,  50 

And  thefe  the  (howers  to  bring  it  on  :  be  cheerful!. 

0£la,     Sir,  looke  well  to  my  Husbands  houfe  :  and 

Ca/ar.     What  05lauia  ? 

0£la.     He  tell  you  in  your  eare. 

Ant,     Her  tongue  will  not  obey  her  heart,  nor  can  55 

Her  heart  informe  her  tougue. 
The  Swannes  downe  feather  57 

48.  farethee\farethee  Sta.  Pkoto-lUh,        ct  seq. 

53.  lVhat'\  Closing  line  52,  Han.  Cap.  56.  t<mgue,'\  F,.  tongue,  Rowe.  tongue; 
Stccv.  Van.  Knl,  Sing.  Dycc,  Sta.  Glo.        Pope. 

Cam.  Ktly.  57'59*  Mnemonic.  Warb. 

What  Odlauia  /]   What  Oifiavia,  57.  Swannes'\  swan'd  Warb. 

Ff.      Whaiy  Oifiavia  ?  Pope  ii.  downe  feather]  doun  feather  FT^. 

54,  [taking  him  aside.  Cap.  down-feather  Rowc,  +  ,  Dycc,  Sta.  Glo. 
56,  57.  Her,,. feather]  One  line,  Rowe  Cam.  Ktly. 


behold  her  face.' — I,  i,  31.  Again,  where  Viola  says  to  Olivia,  'O  you  should  not 
rest  Betweene  the  elements  of  ayre,  and  earth,'  etc.  Or  <  the  element '  may  mean 
watery  as  where  the  Queen  in  Hamlet  says  of  Ophelia,  when  iallen  in  *  the  weeping 
brook,'  that  she  was  '  like  a  creature  native  and  indued  Unto  that  element.' — IV, 
▼ii,  180.  It  is,  therefore,  quite  possible  in  the  present  passage  that  'the  elements' 
may  mean  either  those  which  are  external  to  man  or  those  of  which  he  is  composed. 
If  the  former,  then  Csesar  means  no  more  than  *  may  you  have  a  comfortable  journey'; 
an  objection  to  this  meaning  is  that  a  comfortable  journey  does  not  of  necessity 
create  cheerful  spirits ;  there  is  the  well-known  line  *  Caelum  non  animum  mutant,' 
etc,  which  suggests  a  sorrow  ever-present,  however  comfortable  the  voyage.  If 
by  'the  elements'  Caesar  means  those  of  which  Octavia's  nature  is  composed,  then 
Johnson's  interpretation  is  just,  and  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  attempt  to  better 
his  paraphrase. — Ed.] 

48.  spirits]  Walker's  rule  for  the  pronunciation  of  spirit  as  a  monosyllable 
(Crit,  i,  193)  will  not  here  apply.     See  I,  ii,  143,  and  II,  ii,  76. 

50,  51  and  57-59.  Loues  spring,  .  .  .  bring  it  on  :  and  The  Swannes  downe 
feather  .  .  .  inclines]  Mrs  Griffith  (p.  469) :  These  are  two  passages,  which  for 
elegance  of  thought,  or  beauty  of  expression,  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  poetical  imagery 
or  language  to  exceed. 

54.  He  tell  you  in  }rour  eare]  As  far  as  I  know,  Voss  is  the  sole  commentator 
who  overhears  what  Octavia  whispers.  He  says  that  she  begs  her  brother  not  to  be 
too  exacting  when  dealing  with  Anthony,  or  else  to  remain  constant  to  her,  should 
Anthony's  former  fascination  for  Cleopatra  re-awaken.     But  see  line  72. — Ed. 

55-59.  Her  tongue  will  not,  etc.]  I  think  Anthony  here  speaks  aside,  while 
Octavia  is  whispering  her  last  fond  words  to  her  brother. — Ed. 

57-59.  The  Swannes  downe  feather  . .  .  neither  way  inclines]  Capell  (i, 
37) :  This  comparison  of  Antony's  rose  indeed  from  the  words  he  had  just  spoken ; 


l8o  THE   TR AG  ED  IE  OF  [act  in,  sc  iL 

That  (lands  vpon  the  Swell  at  the  full  of  Tide  :  58 

And  neither  way  inclines. 

Eno.     Will  CiBfar  weepe  ?  60 

Agr.     He  ha^s  a  cloud  in^s  face, 

Eno.     He  were  the  worfe  for  that  were  he  a  Horfe ,  fo  is  62 

58.   Tkat^  7:iiix  Walker,  Hods.  61.  iVj]  m  Aw  Var.»73,'78,'8s,Mal. 

at  the  fiOl  of]  Mai.  Knt,  CoU.  Ran.  Ktly. 

Sing.  Dycc,  Wb.  Hal.  Ktly.    at  tfu  full  62.  He ,..  Horfe\  One  line,  Pope  et 

CoU.  ii.     at  the  of  full    Su.  Photo-lUh,  leq. 

atfuU  ofYi  et  cct  that  were  he.,Morfe,'\  that,  were 

60-70.  Wm,..too.'\  As  Aside,  Cap.  he  a  Hone  Sta.  Photo-lith, 


but  are  not  an  illustration  of  them,  but  of  a  reflection  that  was  then  springing  up  upon 
the  state  of  OctaTia*s  heart ;  divided  between  Uve  to  her  brother  and  love  to  him, 
and  unable  to  give  the  preference  to  either. — Hudson  :  Very  delicate  imagery,  but 
not  perfectly  clear :  the  plain  English  of  it  is,  that  Octavia*s  heart  is  equally  divided 
between  her  brother  and  her  husband,  so  that  she  cannot  tell  which  she  loves  most. 
— Steevens  refers  to  a  similar  image  in  2  Henry  IV:  II,  iii,  63  :  *  As  with  the  tide 
swell'd  up  unto  his  height.  That  makes  a  still-stand,  running  neither  way.»  And 
Dbighton  refers  to  Tro,  and  Cress,  where  Shakespeare  again  speaks  of  the  soft 
plumage  of  the  swan :  *  her  hand  ...  to  whose  soft  seizure  The  cygnet's  down  is 
harsh.' — I,  i,  58. 

58.  at  the  full]  In  the  Ff  this  <  the '  is  absorbed  in  the  /  of  « at,*  but  is  still  pres- 
ent to  the  ear. — Ed. 

62.  were  he  a  Horse]  Steevens  :  A  horse  is  said  to  have  •  a  cloud  in  his  face,' 
when  he  has  a  black  or  dark-coloured  spot  in  his  forehead  between  his  eyes.  This 
gives  him  a  sour  look,  and  being  supposed  to  indicate  an  ill -temper,  is  of  course 
r^arded  as  a  great  blemish.  The  same  phrase  occurs  in  Burton's  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy ,  *  Every  lover  admires  his  mistress,  though  she  be  very  deformed  of  her 
self.  .  .  thin,  lean,  chitty  face,  have  clouds  in  her  face,  be  crooked,*  etc — [p.  519, 
ed.  1651.] — R.  G.  White:  An  allusion  to  the  dislike  horse-fanciers  have  to  white 
marks  or  other  discolorations  in  the  face  of  that  animal. — Madden  (p.  255) :  Eno- 
barbus*  grim  jest  would  have  prospered  better  in  the  ear  of  a  Smithfield  horse-courser 
than  it  has  fared  with  some  of  the  critics.  The  horse-courser  could  have  told  [Mr 
Grant  White]  that  the  words  meant  the  exact  opposite  [to  what  he  has  said  they 
mean].  The  horse  with  a  cloud  in  his  face  was  one  with  no  white  star.  Fitz- 
herbert,  in  his  Bohe  of  Husbandries  commends  the  white  star.  '  It  is  an  excel- 
lent good  marke  also  for  a  horse  to  have  a  white  star  in  his  forehead.  The  horse 
that  hath  no  white  at  all  upon  him  is  furious,  dogged,  full  of  mischiefe  and  mis- 
fortune.*— Cm'olaricey  G.  Markham.  ...  In  the  common  language  of  the  stable  such 
a  horse  was  said  to  have  a  cloud  in  his  face.  Equus  nebula  {ut  vulgo  dicitMr)%im 
faciey  cujus  vultus  tristis  est  et  melaneholicusy  jure  vituperatur^  says  the  learned 
Sadlerius  in  his  work,  De  procreandis^  etc.,  equis^  1587.  From  Sadler's  words  ut 
vulgo  dicitur,  the  expression  <  cloud  in  the  face  *  seems  to  have  been  in  general  use. 
Those  who  had  not  Shakespeare*  s  intimate  knowledge  of  the  language  of  the  stable 
probably  used  it  without  any  clear  idea  of  its  meaning,  as  Burton  may  hare  done 
when  he  wrote  [the  passage  quoted  by  Steevens]. 


ACT  ni,  sc.  ii.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  i8l 

he  being  a|  man.  63 

Agru     Why  Enobarbus  : 
When  Anthony  found  Itdius  Ca/ar  dead^  65 

He  cried  almoft  to  roa  ring  :  And  he  wept, 
When  at  Phillippi  he  found  Brutus  flaine. 

Eno.     That  yearindeed,  he  was  trobled  with  a  rheume. 
What  willingly  he  did  confound,  he  wailM, 
Beleeu*t  till  I  weepe  too.  70 

64.  Enobarbus  -]  Ff.  Enobarbus, CoXH,  68.  rhfume]  rume  Sta.  Photo4ith, 

Dyce,Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.    Enobarbus f  70.  BeUeu't^   Believe  it  Van.  Mai. 

Rowe  et  cct.  Ran.  Steev,  Varr. 

68.  y€arindeed'\   yeare   indeed    Sta.  weepe"]  F,.     wept  Theob.  Warb. 

Pkoto4ith,  Johns.  Sing.  Dyce,  Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 

trobled]  troubled  Yi.  Sta.  Photo-  Hal.  Hunter,  Huds.  Dtn,  Rife.  weepY^^ 

Kth,  et  cet 

68.  he  was]  This  is  one  of  the  examples  furnished  by  Walker  (Cn/.  ii,  203), 
illustrating  his  observation  that  '  Thou  wert,  you  were,  I  was,  etc.  occur  frequently 
in  places  where  it  is  clear  that  they  must  have  been  pronounced  as  one  syllable,  in 
whatever  manner  the  contraction  was  effected.* 

68.  The  Text.  Notes  show  a  remarkable  number  of  varia  leetiones  within  twenty 
or  thirty  lines,  in  Staunton's  Photolithograph.  There  can  be  no  question  that  this 
reproduction  faithfully  sets  forth  its  original,  which  could  be  at  once  pronounced  one 
of  the  very  earliest,  if  not  the  earliest,  copy  to  leave  the  press,  were  it  not  that  Staun- 
ton had  two  copies  to  print  from :  the  copy  in  Bridgewater  House  and  that  in  the 
National  Library,  and  we  do  not  know  to  which  copy  this  page  belongs. — Ed. 

69.  confound]  Malone  :  To  '  confound  *  is  to  destroy. 

70.  till  I  weepe  too]  Theobald  :  I  have  ventur'd  to  alter  the  tense  of  the  verb 
here,  against  the  authority  of  all  the  copies.  There  was  no  sense  in  it,  I  think,  as  it 
stood  before.  Enobarbus  would  say,  '  Indeed,  Antony  seem'd  very  free  of  his  tears 
that  year ;  and,  believe  me,  bewail' d  all  the  mischief  he  did,  till  I  myself  wept  too.* 
This  appears  to  me  very  sarcastical.  Antony's  tears,  he  would  infer,  were  dissembled ; 
but  Enobarbus  wept  in  real  compassion  of  the  havock  and  slaughter  committed  on 
his  countrymen. — Capell  (i,  37) :  Which  he  thought  would  be  never :  so  that,  tak- 
ing them  thus,  the  words  are  only  a  fresh  and  more  positive  assertion  of  what  he  had 
been  saying  before.  Wept  (a  word  adopted  by  two  modem  editors)  can  not  be 
allow'd  of;  the  sense  which  that  would  convey,  being  a  manifest  violation  of 
character. — Steevens  :  I  am  afraid  there  was  better  sense  in  this  passage  as  it  origi- 
nally stood,  than  Theobald's  alteration  will  afford  us.  'Believe  it  (says  Enobar- 
bus), that  Antony  did  so,  r.  e.  that  he  wept  over  such  an  event,  till  you  see  me  weep- 
ing on  the  same  occasion,  when  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you  for  putting  such  a  con- 
struction on  my  tears,  which,  in  reality  (like  his),  will  be  tears  of  joy.' — M.  Mason  : 
I  should  certainly  adopt  Theobald's  amendment,  the  meaning  of  which  is,  that 
Antony  wailed  the  death  of  Brutus  so  bitterly,  that  I  [Enobarbus]  was  affected  by 
it,  and  wept  also.  Steevens's  explanation  of  the  present  reading  is  so  forced,  that  I 
cannot  clearly  comprehend  it. — Dyce  :   Steevens  and  Capell  vainly  endeavour  to 


1 82  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  iL 

Cce/ar.    No  fweet  Oilatdaj  71 

You  fhall  heare  from  me  flill  :  the  time  fhall  not 
Out-go  my  thinking  on  you. 

Ant.     Come  Sir ,  come. 
He  wraftle  with  you  in  my  ftrength  of  loue,  75 

Looke  heere  I  haue  you,  thus  I  let  you  go, 
And  giue  you  to  the  Gods. 

Cce/ar.     Adieu,  be  happy. 

Lep.     Let  all  the  number  of  the  Starres  giue  light 
To  thy  faire  way.  80 

Cce/ar.     Farewell,  farewell.  Kiffes  Oilauia. 

Ant.     Farewell.  Trumpets  found.  Exeunt.  82 

71.  [coming  forward.  Ci^  iith, 

73.  my\  ^/r  Rowe  ii.  76.  yoUy']you:Komt,  you;\ea^xnc- 

75.  wra/ile]  wreftU  F^F^.  ing  him.]  Han. 

76.  /  Ut  you\  /,  Ut  Kou  Sta.  Phot<h  78.  AdUu,'\  Adieu  Sta.  Phoio-tith. 

defend  [the  Folio].  According  to  Capell,  Theobald's  correction  introduces  ario- 
lation  of  character ;  but  Enobarbus  is  not  altogether  *  unused  to  the  melting  mood ;  * 
for  afterwards  (IV,  ii,  47)  we  find  him  sajring,  < Looke,  they  weep;  And  /,  am  ass, 
am  onioH-e/df*  etc. — R.  G.  WHrrR :  I  have  no  hesitation  in  adopting  Theobald's 
reading. — ^Kbightlky  (Expositor ^  p.  315) :  Theobald  is  followed,  from  not  under- 
standing the  passage,  as  it  seems  to  me  ;  what  is  meant  is,  accept  this  explanation 
till  you  see  tm  weep  from  pure  feeling,  which  Antony  was  no  more  capable  of  doing 
than  I  am. — [If  Theobald's  reading  be  correct,  and  Enobarbus  did  actually  weep 
out  of  sympathy,  I  find  it  difficult  to  detect  vnth  what  he  sympathised.  Certainly 
not  with  Anthony's  tears;  he  has  just  said  that  they  were  due  to  a  rheum.  If 
Anthony's  tears  were  genuine,  his  sarcastic  allusion  to  a  rheum  is  pointless.  As  a 
proof  that  tears  from  Enobarbus  were  not  out  of  character,  Dyce  refers  to  a  scene 
between  Anthony  and  his  followers  where  Enobarbus  confesses  he  was  <  onion-ey'd.' 
But  there  is  no  parallelism  between  that  scene  and  the  present.  It  was  the  sight  of 
the  unfeigned  tears  of  deroted  affection  for  Anthony  which  in  that  scene  brought 
tears  to  the  eyes  of  Enobarbus.  In  Anthony's  *  wailings'  oyer  the  'slain  Brutus' 
whom  he  had  himself  <  willingly  confounded,'  Enobarbus  had  no  jot  of  faith,  and  he 
asks  Agrippa  to  believe  his  words, — until  Agrippa  shall  see  him  <  weep  too,'  which, 
as  Capell  says,  will  be  never.  *  Weepe '  of  the  Folio  should  not  be,  I  think,  dis- 
turbed.— Ed. 

72,  73.  You  shall  heare  from  me  still,  etc.]  Is  it  not  here  revealed  what 
Octavia  told  in  Caesar's  ear  ? — Ed. 


ACT  III,  sc.  iii.]      ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 


183 


\Scene  III?[ 

Enter  Cleopatray  Ckarmiatiy  IraSy  and  AUxas. 

Cleo.    Where  is  the  Fellow  ? 

Alex.     Halfe  afeard  to  come. 

Cleo.     Go  too,  go  too  ;  Come  hither  Sir. 
Enter  the  Mejfenger  as  before. 

Alex.  Good  Maieftie  :  Herod  of  lury  dare  not  looke 
vpon  you,  but  when  you  are  well  pleasM. 

Cleo.  That  Herods  head,  He  haue  :  but  how  ?  When 
Anthony  is  gone,  through  whom  I  might  commaund  it : 
Come  thou  neere. 

Me/.     Moft  gratious  Maieftie. 


5 


10 


Scene  III.  Rowe. 
Alexandria.  Rowe.   Palace  in  Alex* 
andria.  Theob. 

3.  afeard  ]  afraid  Pope,  + . 

4.  Go  too^  go  too :]  Go  tOy  go  to  :  Ff. 
Go  to,  go  to,  Johns. 

6-10.  Good ...  neere]  Lines  end, 
majesty,  „,.you,  ...  head  ...gone, ...  it ... 
near.  Pope,  majesty  / . . .  you,  . . .  head, . . . 
gone, ...  near.  Theob.  et  seq. 

6.  Maieftie:]  Ff.  Majesty,  Rowe. 
Majesty  I  Theob. 


6.  Jury]  F,.    Jewry  F,F^. 

7.  pUa^d]  plaeid  Sta.  Photo-lUh, 
8-10.   That  Herods  ...  neere]  lines 

end,  head  ...gone,  ...  it:  ...  near.  Pope. 
head... gone,  ...near.  Theob.  et  seq. 

8.  9.  how  f  ...it:]  Ff.  hew?  ...it. 
Johns.  Van.  Mai.  Steev.  Varr.  Knt,  Sing. 
Ktly.  h<m,  ...itf  Coll.  Dyce,  Wh.  Sta. 
GIo.  Gun.  Hal. 

\\.  Maieftie.]  Majefty.Yi.  Majesty! 
Han.    Majesty, —  Theob.  Warb.  et  seq. 


4.  Qo  too,  go  too]  Wordsworth  (p.  341)  :  I  have  ventured  to  alter  the  com- 
mon text  into  '  Go  to  him,  go,'  because  the  former,  which  is  '  a  phrase  of  exhortation 
or  reproof  (Schm.  <Lex.'),  does  not  appear  to  give  the  meaning  here  required; 
unless  indeed  we  can  suppose  it  to  signify, — '  Don't  tell  me  of  his  being  afeard.  I 
insist  upon  seeing  him ; '  which  puts  at  least  an  awkward  strain  upon  the  words. 
— Deighton  excellently  paraphrases  it  as  *■  nonsense,  nonsense.' 

5.  the  Messenger]  Collier  (ed.  ii) :  He  is  again  called  Elis  in  the  MS.  [See 
II,  V,  29.]— Mrs  Jameson  (p.  140)  :  The  man  is  afterwards  brought  back,  almost 
by  force,  to  satisfy  Cleopatra's  jealous  anxiety,  by  a  description  of  Octavia: — ^but  this 
time,  made  wise  by  experience,  he  takes  care  to  adapt  his  information  to  the  humours 
of  his  imperious  mistress,  and  gives  her  a  satirical  picture  of  her  rival.  The  scene 
which  follows,  in  which  Cleopatra — artful,  acute,  and  penetrating  as  she  is — becomes 
the  dupe  of  her  feminine  spite  and  jealousy,  nay,  assists  in  duping  herself;  and  after 
having  cuffed  the  messenger  for  telling  her  truths  which  are  offensive,  rewards  him 
for  the  falsehood  which  flatters  her  weakness — is  not  only  an  admirable  exhibition 
of  character,  but  a  fine  moral  lesson. 

6.  Herod  of  lury]  See  I,  ii,  31.  Alexas  refers  to  the  ferocious  tyrant  of  the  old 
mystery  plajrs ;  Qeopatra's  thoughts  wander  to  the  living  Herod. 


I&4 


THE  TRAGEDIE  OF 


[ACTm,  sc.  m. 


CUc.     Did'ft  thou  behold  Oa< 

Mtf.     I  dread  Quecne. 

CfrtfL    Where.' 

M€j\     Madam  in  Rome,  I  lookt  her  in  tihe 
finw  her  led  beUrecne  her  Brocher,  and  Marke  Amihtmj. 

Ck>i<     Is  ihe  as  tall  as  me.' 

Mtf.    She  ts  not  Madam. 

C?A*.     EHdil  hcare  her  ^xaloe  ? 
Is  the  thiiil  toc^u*d  or  lov  f 

JKr::     M^duai  I  heard  her  ^Kakc  ihe  is  lopv  voiced. 

Cii9^     Thirds  not  fo  good  :  1 


12 


15 


^L^RooK.  Viadk.  riijbi&. 


«£«■»  '^dlldh  iATttViB^  :ii^  ^. 

ttn«k  «lMi«tv  >«  4hr  <iter4t  Hit  iwnhafxuK  oc 


L^4 


eeBBBEBcdr 


OL  ^ 


0 


nwng* 


js  mv  Tsr  :^!iw«t:  t  mKS  n: 


ACT  III,  sc.  m.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  185. 

Char.     Like  her  1  0\i  I fis  \  'tis  impoffible.  23 

Cleo.  I  thinke  fo  Channiani  dull  of  tongue,  &  dwarfifti 
What  Maieftie  is  in  her  gate,  remember  25 

If  ere  thou  look'ft  on  Maieftie.  , 

Me/.SYiQ  creepes:her  motion, &  her  ftation  are  as  one: 
She  (hewes  a  body,  rather  then  a  life, 
A  Statue,  then  a  Breather. 

Cleo.     Is  this  certaine  ?  3^ 

Me/.     Or  I  haue  no  obferuance. 

Cha.     Three  in  Egypt  cannot  make  better  note. 

Cleo.     He's  very  knowing,  I  do  perceiu't. 
There's  nothing  in  her  yet. 
The  Fellow  ha's  good  iudgement.  35 

C/iar.     Excellent. 

Cleo.     Gueffe  at  her  yeares,  I  prythee. 

Meff.     Madam,  fhe  was  a  widdow. 

Cleo.     Widdow?  Ckarmianyh&zx\^c.  39 

24.  dwarftJk'\dwarfiJh.Y^^.  dwarf-  32-34-  Three, „yet,'\\Ant&tXi^,Egy^ 
iskl  Cap.  cl  seq.  ,.  knowing., .yet,  Th^b.  et  scq. 

25.  gatf^  Ff.  g<^^e^  Rowe.  gait?  38.  Madam]  Closing  line  37,  Stccv. 
Johns.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Sing.  Dyce,  Wh.  Sta. 

26.  look'/l']  Ff,  Rowe,  Var. '73.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  Her  years,  madam? 
hoi^dst  Pope  et  cet.  Cap.  (separate  line.) 

27.  54^ rr^^«]  Closing  line  26,  Rowe  widdow.]  Widow,  Y^,  widow^ — 
ct  scq.                                                                 Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 

32.   Three  .„  cannot]    Not  three  in  39.    IViddow  ?]    widow/  Dyce,   Sta. 

^gypt  can  Pope.  Glo.  Cam. 

when  Oeopatra  applies  the  epithet  *  shrill-tongued '  to  Fulvia,  it  is  not  introduced  by 
way  of  compliment. — Irving  Edition  :  Cleopatra  means  that  a  low  voice  is  so  good 
a  thing  in  itself  that  it  is '  not  so  good  '  for  her^  as  it  denotes  a  charm  in  Octavia.  The 
latter  part  of  the  line  is  not  at  all  consequent  on  what  has  just  been  said,  but  expresses 
the  secret  anxiety  of  the  woman  by  her  emphasis  in  uttering  it.  It  would  be  better, 
perhaps,  to  print  it  as  a  separate  sentence. — [This  last  interpretation  is,  to  me,  the 
trae  one.  Qeopatra  was  thinking  of  herself,  not  of  any  quality  of  Toice,  and  was, 
moreover,  determined,  as  with  the  '  venom  clamours  of  a  jealous  woman,*  to  regard 
every  quality  of  Octavia  in  the  worst  possible  light.  As  for  *  the  poet*s  *  having 
Queen  Elizabeth  in  his  thoughts, — we  here  need  Mr  Burchell,  to  ejaculate  *  Fudge  !  * 
It  is  quite  as  likely  that  he  was  thinking  of  Marian  Racket. — Ed.] 

27.  her  motion,  ft  her  station  are  as  one]  Steevens  :  '  Station '  means  the  act 
of  standing,  as  in  Hamlet ^  '  A  station  like  the  herald  Mercury.* — III,  iv,  58. — [An 
impossible  lie  ;  the  very  depth  of  obsequiousness  or  terror. — Ed.] 

39.  Widdow]  Steevens  :  Cleopatra  rejoices  in  this  circumstance  ;  it  sets  Octavia 
on  m  level  with  herself,  who  was  no  virgin  when  she  fell  to  the  lot  of  Antony. — 
[Qeopatxm  '  rejoices  *  because  a  <  widow '  is  suggestive  of  age  and  waning  charms. 


1 86  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi.  sc.  iii. 

Mef.    And  I  do  thinke  (he's  thirtie.  40 

Cle.    Beared  thou  her  face  in  mind  ?  is't  long  or  round? 

Mejf.     Rounds  euen  to  faultinefle. 

Cleo.     For  the  moft  part  too,  they  are  foolifh  that  are 
fo.     Her  haire  what  coIo  ur  ? 

MeJf.     Browne  Madam  :  and  her  forehead  45 

As  low  as  (he  would  wifh  it. 

41.  j9^af^.../zr^]  Separate  line,  Cap.  44.  ^4rr...r0/iwr]  Separate  line,  F,F^, 

ty/]  is  it  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.  Steev.  Rowe,  Cap.  Var.  '21,  Knt,  Coll.  Sing. 

Var.  '03,  '13.  Dyce,  Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal. 

43,  44.  For, ,, colour f'\  Lines  end,  too  45,  46.  Browne, .M."]  Lines  end,  low 

„.  colour  f  Popc,+,   VaiT.   Mai.    Ran.  ...i^.  Steev.  Var. '03, '13. 

Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13.  46.  As  loui]  is  as  low  Steev.  Var.  '03, 

43.  thty  are\  They  re  Pope,+,  Dyce  '13. 
li,  ui. 

and  therefore  less  likely  to  hold  Anthony's  affection  in  thrall  as  long  as  would  a 
blushing  young  bride. — Ed.] 

43.  they  are  foolish]  Stekvens  :  This  is  from  the  old  writers  on  physiognomy. 
So,  in  Hiirs  Pleasant  History y  etc.,  1613  :  'the  head  very  rounds  to  be  forgetful  and 
foolish,^  Again,  'the  head  long^  to  be  prudent  and  wary.' — p.  218. — [The  date, 
1613,  diminishes  the  value  of  these  quotations,  as  far  as  the  present  play  is  concerned. 
—Ed.] 

45.  Madam]  Walker  (  Vers,  174)  :  Mt^am^  I  think,  renders  the  line  more  har- 
monious.   I  think  that  these  speeches  ought  to  be  arranged  as  by  Nares,  s,  v.  Forehead. 

45.  forehead]  Nares  {s,  v.  Forehead) :  A  high  forehead  was  formerly  accounted 
a  great  beauty,  and  a  low  one  a  proportionable  deformity  ;  so  completely  has  taste 
changed  in  this  respect.  '  Her  eyes  are  grey  as  glass,  and  so  are  mine ;  Ay,  but  her 
forehead^  s  low  and  miners  as  high* — Two  Gent,  IV,  iv,  197.  *  For  this  is  handsome- 
ness,  this  that  draws  us  Body  and  bones ;  Oh,  what  a  mounted  forehead^  What  eyes 
and  lips,  what  every  thing  about  her.* — Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Mons.  Thomas,  I,  i. 
*  Her  iuorie  forhead,  full  of  bountie  braue.  Like  a  broad  table  did  it  sclfe  dispred. 
For  Loue  his  loftie  triumphes  to  engraue.  And  write  the  battels  of  his  great  godhed.' 
—Spenser,  Faerie  Queene,  II,  iii,  213.  This  is  part  of  the  description  of  a  perfect 
ideal  beauty  :— « l^tt  forehead  smooth,  full,  polished,  bright,  and  high.  Bears  in  itself 
a  graceful  majesty.'—  Witts  Recreations,  sign.  V  2,  b.  Thus  also  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
describes  the  beautiful  Parthenia :— « For  her  great  gray  eye,  which  might  seeme  full 
of  her  own  beauty ;  a  large,  and  exceedingly  faire  forehead,  with  all  the  rest  of  her 
face  and  body,  cast  in  the  mould  of  noblenesse,  was  yet  attired,'  etc. — Book  i,  p.  59. 
A  lady  jocularly  setting  forth  her  own  beauty,  enumerates,  *  True  complexion  If  it  be 
red  and  white,  a  forehead  ii^^i.'— Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  IVoman  Hater ^  III,  L 
Cleopatra,  when  full  of  jealousy,  is  delighted  to  find  that  her  rival  has  a  law  forehead, 
[The  phrase],  as  low  *  as  she  would  wish  it  *  is  said  ironically,  for  much  lower.  The 
dialogue  would  be  improved  a  little  in  spirit,  if  we  might  read  it  thus :  '  Mess,  Brown, 
Madam.  Cleop,  And  her  forehead  f  \  Mess,  As  lotu  as  she  could  wish  it,*  A  low  fore- 
head is  humorously  mentioned  as  the  most  striking  deformity  of  apes : — *  And  all  be 
tum'd  to  barnacles,  or  to  apes,  Wiih  foreheads  villainous  lew,* — Tempest^  IV,  L 


ACT  III,  sc.  iii.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  187 

Cleo.     There^s  Gold  for  thee,  47 

Thou  muft  not  take  my  former  (harpenefle  ill, 
I  will  employ  thee  backe  againe  :  I  finde  thee 
Mod  fit  for  bufineffe.     Go,  make  thee  ready,  50 

Our  Letters  are  prepared. 

Char.     A  proper  man. 

Cleo.     Indeed  he  is  fo  :  I  repent  me  much 
That  fo  I  harried  him.     Why  me  think's  by  him. 
This  Creature's  no  fuch  thing.  55 

Char,     Nothing  Madam. 

Cleo.     The  man  hath  feene  f  ome  Maiefty,  and  (hould 
know. 

Char.  Hath  he  feene  Maieftie  ?  IJis  elfe  defend  :  and 
leruing  you  fo  long.  60 

Cleopa,  I  haue  one  thing  more  to  aske  him  yet  good 
Charndan  :  but  'tis  no  matter,  thou  (halt  bring  him  to  me 
"where  I  will  write;all  may  be  well  enough. 

Char,     I  warrant  you  Madam.  Exeunt.  64 

47.    There s\  There  is  Steev.  Varr.  59,  60.  HeUh,„long,'\  Lines  end,  de- 

fhee,"]  thee.  Rowe  ii.  fend:  ,.Jang.  Rowe  et  scq. 

50.  ready"]  ready ^  while  Cap.  defend:  ...  long."]    Ff.       defend! 

51.  [Exit  Mes.     Han.  „.iong.  Pope,  Han.     defend!  .„  long  f 
54.  Why]  Om.  Pope,  Han.  Theob.  Warb.  Johns,     defend,  ...long! 

me  thinh's]  F,.     nte  thinks  F^,  Cap.  ct  cct 
melhinhs  F^.  61-63.  /  haue  ...enough]  Lines  end, 

56.  Nothing] O nothing Fope,-\-,  Cap.  Charmian... me, ..enough  Rowe  etstq. 
Steev.     No,  nothing  Ktly.  61.  /^<m#^] /V^  Pope, +  ,  Dyceii,  iii. 

46.  as  she  would  wish  it]  Capell  (i,  37)  :  [Heath,  p.  458]  has  proposed,  to 
read — you  would;  but,  in  this,  there  is  something  indelicate :  The  sentence  would  be 
better  amended  (if  amendment  be  necessary),  by  reading — Lower  than  she  would^  etc.; 
and  this,  perhaps,  is  intended  in  the  words  that  the  printers  have  given  us. —  [Collier's 
MS  gives  the  same  reading  that  Heath  conjectured ;  Malone  also  conjectured  it 
Dyce  asserts  that  none  of  them  was  '  aware  that  the  Messenger  uses  a  cant  phrase,' 
inasmuch  as  Steevens  writes  that  he  '  once  overheard  a  chambermaid  say  of  her  rival 
"  that  her  legs  were  as  thick  or  she  could  wish  them.*' '] 

54.  I  harried  him]  Murray  (A''.  E.  D.  s.  v.  Harry.  4.)  :  To  worry,  goad,  tor- 
ment, harass ;  to  maltreat,  ill-use,  persecute. 

57.  The  man  hath  scene  some  Maiesty]  Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  141)  :  Do  we  not 
£uicy  Qeopatra  drawing  herself  up  with  all  the  vain  consciousness  of  rank  and 
beauty  as  she  pronounces  this  last  line?  and  is  not  this  the  very  woman  who  cele- 
brated her  own  apotheosis, — who  arrayed  herself  in  the  robe  and  diadem  of  the  god- 
de«  Isis,  and  could  find  no  titles  magnificent  enough  for  her  children  but  those  of 
the  Sun  and  the  Moon  f 


188 


THE  TRACE  DIE  OF 


[act  hi,  sc.  iy. 


\Scene  IK] 

Enter  Anthony  and  06lauia. 
Ant.    Nay, nay  O^auia,i\ot  onely  that, 
That  were  excufable,  that  and  thoufands  more 
Of  femblable  import,  but  he  hath  wagfd 
New  Warres  ^gainft  Pompey.     Made  his  will,  and  read  it. 
To  publicke  eare,  fpoke  fcantly  of  me. 
When  perforce  he  could  not 
But  pay  me  tearmes  of  Honour  :  cold  and  fickly 
He  vented  then  moft  narrow  meafuredent  me. 
When  the  beft  hint  was  giuen  him  :  he  not  look't. 
Or  did  it  from  his  teeth. 


lO 


Scene  IV.  Rowe  et  seq. 
Athens.  Rowe.     A  Room  in  An- 
tony's House.  Cap. 

1-42.  Om.  Gfir. 

2,  3.   that^    That  were\    that^-^that 
WeriUsX, 

5.  Pompey.]  Pompey,  Ff.     Pompey ; 
Rowe  et  seq. 

read  t^,]  read  it  Rowe  et  seq. 

6,  'j./poke„.not'\  Sep.  line,  Cap.  et  seq. 
6.  fcantly\  scantily  Theob.  + ,  Van. 

Ran.     scant' ly  Cap. 


6.  ofme^  of  me  ;  Rowe  et  seq.  (subs.) 

7.  IVhen  perforce']  And  when  at  any 
time  perforce  Han. 

8.  Honour :"]  honour^  Rowe  et  seq. 

9.  then mofl .,.meafure:lent me^them ; 
most  narrow  measure  lent  me  ;  Rowe  et 


seq. 


ID.  him  .*]  Ff,  Knt.  him^  Rowe  et  cet 
not  looJ^f]  Ff,  Knt,  Coll.  ii.    had 


look't  F 


•• 


had  lookt  FjF^.     derlook'd 


Rowe,  Pope,    not  took't  Thirlby,  Tbeob. 
et  cet.  {not  took  it  Varr.  Ran.) 


In  Kemble's  Acting  Copy  this  scene  follows  and  continues  the  next  scene,  Scene  ▼, 
which  is  then  trans]X)sed  so  as  to  follow  Scene  ii.     Scene  vii  closes  Act  II. 

5.  New  Warres]  Deighton  :  That  is,  contrary  to  the  agreement  between  us, 
and  without  asking  my  assent. 

5.  Made  his  will,  etc.]  According  to  Plutarch  (see  Appendix),  it  was  Antony's 
Will  which  Caesar  removed  from  the  custody  of  the  Vestal  nuns ;  after  reading  it  him- 
self and  noting  *  certain  places  worthy  of  reproach,'  Ocsar  '  assembled  all  the  Senate 
and  read  it  before  them  all.  Whereupon  divers  were  marvellously  offended.'  Of 
course  there  is  some  corruption  in  the  text.  Anthony  could  have  no  possible  cause 
of  complaint  if  Caesar  chose  to  make  his  own  Will  and  read  it  in  public.  The  cor- 
ruption lies  in  the  words  *  made  his '  for  which  he  who  lists  may  easily  substitute  any 
words  that  will  make  the  text  conform  to  Plutarch. — Ed. 

5,  6.  will,  ...  it,  ...  of  me,]  Thiselton  (p.  17)  calls  attention  to  these  commas 
as  indications  of  the  '  impetuosity  of  Antony's  utterance.'  It  is  possible  that  Thisel- 
ton is  right,  but  at  the  same  time  we  must  remember  th«it  no  great  dependence  is 
to  be  placed  on  the  punctuation  of  the  Folio,  which  is  somewhat  remote  from  any 
authoritative  contact  with  Shakespeare's  own  hand. — Ed. 

6.  scantly]  .That  is,  slightingly. 

8-10.  Honour  :  .  .  .  vented  then  .  .  .  measure :  .  .  .  look't]  The  changes  intro- 
duced by  Rowe  in  this  impossible  punctuation,  and  the  change  by  him  of  *  vented 
then '  into  '  vented  them^  have  been  unanimously  adopted  by  all  succeeding  editors. 


ACT  m.  sc.  iv.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  189 

06lauu     Oh  my  good  Lord,  12 

Beleeue   not  all,  or  if  you  muft  beleeue, 
Stomacke  not  all.     A  more  vnhappie  Lady,  14 

13.  fl//,]  all;  Pope. 

Tolerable  sense  can  be  made  even  in  the  present  text,  with  its  present  punctuation, 
until  we  come  to  the  colon  after  *  measure,'  which  leaves  *  lent  me'  inexpUcable,  unless 
we  suppose  that  it  bears  a  meaning  unknown  elsewhere.  Knight  alone,  among  edi- 
tors, retains  the  colon  after  *giuen  him.'  In  Booth's  Reprint  there  is  a  semi-colon 
after  *  measure/  not  a  colon,  as  in  my  copy  of  F,. — Ed. 

10.  he  not  look't]  Thirlby's  emendation, '  he  wxAiookU^  which  has  been  adopted 
by  nearly  all  editors,  is  to  be  found,  without  comment,  in  Nichols  (Illtist,  ii,  228).  It 
means,  of  course,  that  Anthony  did  not  take  the  *  best  hint,'  and  receives  some  con- 
firaiation,  albeit  very  slight,  from  the  spelling  in  the  Folio,  where  the  apostrophe  in 
'look't,'  as  an  abbreviation  of  looked^  is  somewhat  unusual.  Knight  and  Collier 
(ed.  ii)  are  the  only  modern  editors  who  adhere  to  the  Folio.  The  former  does  not 
believe  that  the  '  best  hint '  is  here  referred  to,  but*  on  the  contrary'  he  says,  'although 
it  was  hinted  to  Cesar  when  speaking  that  he  should  mention  Antony  with  terms  of 
honour,  he  lent  him  most  narrow  measure— cold  and  sickly.  His  demeanour  is 
then  more  particularly  described.  He  looked  not  upon  the  people  as  one  who  is 
addressing  them  with  sincerity — he  spoke  from  his  teeth,  and  not  with  the  full  utter- 
ance of  the  heart.'  Collier  (ed.  ii)  retained  look't  because,  I  suppose,  it  had  not 
been  changed  by  his  MS  corrector,  who  had,  however,  changed  '  not  look't'  to  ' but 
k)ok't,' — an  emendation  which  Collier  did  not  adopt,  because  he  doubted  '  if  there 
were  any  confusion  here,  for  what  Antony  means  to  say  is  apparent  enough  as  the  text 
stands  :  Csesar  would  not  look  to  avoid  taking  the  least  hint,  or  if  he  did  look,  and  took 
the  hint,  his  praise  was  superficial  and  insincere.'  On  this  reading  of  Collier's  MS  Cor- 
rector, Dyce  (Notes t  p.  153)  remarks  that  *  it  has  not  only  great  obscurity  of  expres- 
sion, but  is  also  unsuited  to  what  immediately  follows :  **  he  but  look'd,  Or  did  it  from 
his  teeth."  I  have  little  doubt,'  he  adds,  *  that  Thirlby's  much  simpler  emendation 
(which  alters  only  a  single  letter)  restores  the  genuine  reading.'  Later,  in  his  edition, 
Dyce  is  more  emphatic  and  pronounces  the  emendation  of  Collier's  MS  '  little  better 
than  nonsense.'  Later  still,  in  his  Strictures  (p.  205)  he  criticises  not  the  emendation 
of  Collier's  MS,  but  Collier  himself  for  following  the  Folio.  *  What,*  he  asks,  *  could 
mduce  Mr  Collier  to  adopt  here,  in  his  new  edition,  the  ridiculous  reading  of  the 
lolio,  which  admits  of  nothing  but  a  ridiculous  explanation?' — Anon.  (Blackwood, 
Oct.  1853,  p.  467;  supposed  to  be  Lettsom)  :  «We  may  be  pretty  sure  that 
[Thirlby's  emendation]  is  the  right  reading,  as  it  is  assuredly  the  only  one  which 
makes  sense.'— [Thirlby's  change  is  so  trifling,  while  the  gain  is  so  marked,  that  I 
think  it  may  be  adopted  without  heinous  disloyalty  to  the  Folio. — Ed.] 

11.  Or  did  it  from  his  teeth]  Steevens  :  Whether  this  means,  as  we  now  say, 
in  spite  of  his  teeth,  or  that  he  spoke  through  his  teeth,  so  as  to  be  purposely  indis- 
tinct, 1  am  unable  to  determine. — [Knight's  interpretation  is  to  be  found  in  the  pre- 
ceding note  ;  Collier's,  which  is  virtually  the  same,  is  that  *  what  Caesar  said  in  praise 
of  Antony  came  from  no  nearer  his  heart  than  his  teeth.'  Singer  appositely  quotes 
from  the  Adagia  nonnulla  in  Withals's  Dictionarie  .  .  .  deuised  for  the  capacity  of 
Children,  16 16,  p.  562  :  *  Linguft  amicus.  A  friend  from  the  teeth  outward.*] 

14.  Stomacke]  That  is,  resent;  as  in  II,  ii,  il. 


190 


THE   TR AG  ED  IE   OF 


[act  III,  sc.  iv. 


K  this  deuifion  chance^  ne're  flood  betweene 

Praying  for  both  parts  : 

The  good  Gods  wil  mocke  me  prefently, 

When  I  (hall  pray:Oh  bleffe  my  Lord,  and  Husband, 

Vndo  that  prayer,  by  crying  out  as  loud. 

Oh  bleffe  my  Brother.     Husband  winne,  winne  Brother, 

Prayes,  and  diftroyes  the  prayer,  no  midway 

'Twixt  thefe  extreames  at  all. 


15 


20 


22 


16, 17.  Praying,  „me\  One  line,  Rowe, 
Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

Praying,  „pre/etitly\  One  line, 
Var.'78, '85,  Mai.  Var. '21. 

17.  The\  And  the  Steev.  Var.  '03, '  13. 
Surey  the  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

pre/ently]     Om.    Rowe,    Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Cap.  Var.  '73,  Ran, 

18.  pray'l  praying  Rowe. 

Ok  ...  Husband'^    As   quotation. 


Theob.  et  seq.  (snbs.) 

18.  my  Lardy  and  Husband^  my 
husband!  presently  Cap.  Var.  '73.  my 
husband  I  and  presently  Ran. 

19.  Vndo\  And  undo  YJdy,  And  then 
undo  Words. 

<?«/]  Om.  Words. 

20.  Oh  ,„  Brother'\  As  quotation, 
Theob. 

21.  midway'\  miie/icwi^  Cap.  (Errata.) 


16,  17.  Prajring  .  .  .  presently]  It  is  'infinitely  distressing'  (as  Sydney  Smith 
would  say)  to  note  the  attempts  which  have  been  here  made  to  amend  what  is  deemed 
the  defective  metre  of  these  two  fragmentary  lines.  That  the  emotion  of  the  speaker 
should  have  here  any  influence  is  not  to  be  for  a  moment  considered ;  in  all  circum- 
stances Shakespeare  should  be  made  to  know  that  lines  must  have  five  feet,  and  to 
attain  this  end  his  words  are  to  be  at  will  lengthened,  or  compressed,  or  even  omitted 
altogether.  Rows  and  his  followers  read  as  one  line,  '  Praying  for  both  parts  :  the 
good  Gods  will  mock  me,'  and  omit '  presently.'  Steevens,  in  1778,  runs  the  two 
lines  into  an  interminable  one  of  fourteen  syllables,  and  is  followed  in  the  union 
of  the  lines  by  Walker  (Crit,  iii,  301),  who,  however,  reduces  the  number  of  sylla- 
bles by  omitting  'good,'  and  by  reading  (can  it  be  conceived?)  'praying'  as  a 
monosyllable !  (I  had  rather  be  a  pagan,  suckled  in  a  prose  outworn,  than  think 
heaven  could  be  moved  hj  pra^ng.)  In  1793,  Steevens  reverts  to  the  division  of  the 
Folio,  but  pieces  out  the  second  line  with  an  and^  *  And  the  good  Gods,'  etc.  Dyce 
follows  Steevens,  but  rejects  his  and^  and  substitutes  instead,  '  Sure  the  good  Gods,' 
etc.  Finally,  Abbott  (J  484),  retaining  the  division  of  the  Folio,  refuses  both 
Steevens's  and  and  Dyce's  sure,  and  beautifully  counteracts  Walker's  irreverent 
pra^ng  by  a  pious  prolongation  of « good ':  *  The  gS  \  od  g6ds  |  will  m6ck  |  me  pr^s  | 
entl/.'  The  '  vnhappie  Lady's*  broken  heart  and  broken  speech  are  all  forgotten. 
—Ed. 

17.  presently]  This  word,  which  means,  of  course,  immediately,  Capell  transfers 
to  the  end  of  the  next  line,  reading,  •  When  I  shall  pray,  O,  bless  my  husband! 
presently  |  Undo,*  etc.  which  is  harmless  enough,  had  he  only  explained  the  con- 
struction of  'Undo,*— a  difficulty  which  Rann,  who  followed  him  in  transferring 
*  presently,*  observed  and  obviated.     See  Text,  Nate  18. — Ed. 

21,  22.  no  midway  ...  at  all]  Steevens  :  Compare  King  John,  III,  i,  331-6, 
where  the  situation  and  sentiments  of  Blanche  resemble  those  of  Octavia. — Deigh- 
ton  refers  to  the  similar  case  of  Volumnia  in  Coriolanusy  V,  iii,  106-9. 


ACT  m,  sc.  tv.]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  191 

Ant.     Gentle  Oilauia^  23 

Let  your  beft  loue  draw  to  that  point  which  feeks 
Beft  to  prefenie  it  :  if  I  loofe  mine  Honour^  25 

I  loofe  my  felfe : better  I  were  not  yours 
Then  your  fo  branchlefle.     But  as  you  requeiled, 
Your  felfe  (hall  go  between's^the  meane  time  Lady, 
lie  raife  the  preparation  of  a  Warre 
Shall  ftaine  your  Brother^  make  your  fooneft  haft,  30 

25,  26.  Uo/e]  lo/e  F,F^.  30.  ftaine\  strain  Tlieob.  Han.  Cap. 

27.  yotir\  yours  Ff  et  scq.  stay  Boswell,  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS),  Dyce  ii, 

28.  b€tweetes'\  Ff,  Rowe,+,  Dyce,  iii.  Uem  Joiccy  (N,  &»  Qm,  VII,  xii, 
Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.    betiveen  us  Cap.  et  343,  1891).    slack  Anon.  ap.  CanL 

cet  Brotherl  ^oT^^x  Bailey. 

27.  Then  your  so]  Malone  :  This  is  one  of  the  many  mistakes  that  have  arisen 
fiom  the  transcriber's  ear  deceiving  him,  your  so  and  yours  so  being  scarcely  dis- 
tingoiihable  in  pronunciation.     See  line  34,  below. 

JO.  ShaU  staine  your  Brother]  Theobald  :  But,  sore,  Antony,  whose  business 
here  is  to  mollify  Octavia,  does  it  with  a  very  ill  grace :  and  'tis  a  very  odd  way  of 
m&djiog  her,  to  tell  her  the  ¥rar,  he  raises,  shall  *  stain,'  f.  e,  cast  an  odium  upon  her 
brother.  I  have  no  doubt,  but  we  must  read,  with  the  addition  only  of  a  single  letter 
-^  Shall  sirain  your  brother ; '  f .  e,  shall  lay  him  under  constraints ;  shall  put  him 
to  inch  shifts,  that  he  shall  neither  be  able  to  make  a  progress  against,  or  to  preju- 
dice me.  Plutarch  says,  that  Octavius,  understanding  the  sudden  and  wonderful 
preparations  of  Antony,  was  astonished  at  it ;  for  be  himself  was  in  many  wants,  and 
the  people  were  sorely  oppressed  with  grievous  exactions. — ^Johnson  :  I  do  not  see 
hot  '  stain '  may  be  allowed  to  remain  unaltered,  meaning  no  more  than  shame  or 
disgrace, — Steeyens  :  So,  in  some  anonymous  stanzas  among  the  poems  of  Surrey 
and  Wyatt :  '  here  at  hand  approacheth  one  Whose  face  will  stain  you  all.'  Again, 
in  Shares  Wife^  by  Churchyard,  1593  :  *  So  Shore's  wife's  face  made  foule  Browneta 
blush,  As  pearie  staynes  pitch,  or  gold  surmounts  a  rush.'  Again,  in  Churchyard's 
Ckariiie,  1595-  'Whose  beautie  staims  the  faire  Helen  of  Greece.' — M alone:  I 
believe  a  line  betwixt  these  two  has  been  lost,  the  purport  of  which  probably  was, 
'unless  I  am  compelled  in  my  own  defence,  I  will  do  no  act  that  shrill  stain,*  etc. 
After  Antony  has  told  Octavia  that  she  shall  be  a  mediatrix  between  him  and  his 
adversary,  it  is  surely  strange  to  add  that  he  will  do  an  act  that  shall  disgrace  her 
brother. — Rann  ingeniously  reads  *j/<w«,  and  explains  it  as  standing  for  sustain,  that 
is,  « in  defence  of  him.' — Boswell  :  Perhaps  we  should  read  :  *  Shall  stay  your 
brother;'  shall  check  and  make  him  pause  in  his  hostile  designs. — Singer:  To 
*  stain '  is  not  here  used  for  to  shame,  or  disgrace,  as  Johnson  supposed ;  but  for  to 
edipse,  extinguish,  throw  into  the  shade,  to  put  out ;  from  the  Old  French  esteindre. 
In  this  sense  it  is  used  in  all  the  examples  quoted  by  Stcevens. — Staunton  agrees 
with  Singer  as  to  the  meaning  of  *  stain,'  but  adds  that  *  stay,  suggested  by  Boswell, 
is  more  accordant  with  the  context,  and  may  easily  have  been  misprinted  **  stain." ' 
—Dyce  (ed.  i)  :  If  'stain'  be  right,  it  is  equivalent  io— throw  into  the  shade;  in 
which  sense  the  word  was  formerly  very  common  \  e.g.  *  She  stains  the  ripest  virgins 
of  the  age.'— Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Cupid's  Revenge,  II,  ii ;  'I  saw  sixe  gallant 


192  THE   TR AGED  IE  OF  [act  hi.  sc.  iv. 

So  your  defires  are  yours.  31 

061.    Thanks  to  my  Lx>rd, 
The  loue  of  power  make  me  moft  weake,  moft  weake, 
You  reconciler :  Warres  'twixt  you  twaine  would  be,  34 

33.  moft  ...  weake^     although     most  34.  You\  Your  Ff. 
weak^  Han. 

nymphes,  I  saw  but  one,  One  stain' d  them  all  .  .  .  They  borrowed  beames  from  her 
star-staining  eyes.* — Lord  Sterling's  Aurora^  sig.  C  4.,  ed.  1604. — Walker  (Crit, 
liiy  301 )  quotes  the  Folio  text,  and  asks,  *  What  does  this  mean  ?  Besides,  would 
Antony  speak  thus  to  Octavia  ? '  Whereto,  Lettsom,  Walker's  editor,  replies  in  a 
footnote,  *  Two  very  natural  questions !  Is  it  too  bold  to  read, — **  I'll  raise  no  prepa- 
ration of  war  7^  tusail  your  brother "  ?  The  crept  in  from  the  line  above,  and 
expelled  no,  ,  ,  .  Stain^  strain,  and  stay  are  alike  nonsense.' — Ingleby  (Sh.  Her- 
meneutics,  p.  96)  :  Certainly  had  '  strain '  been  in  the  old  text  we  should  have  been 
well  satisfied  with  it.  But  while  regarding  that  as  facile  princeps  among  the  proposed 
substitutes,  we  hold  it  to  be  quite  inferior  to  the  word  of  the  folio.  Compromise 
would  be  a  dilution  of '  stain,'  in  the  sense  we  believe  Shakespeare  to  have  intended. 
— Deighton  quotes  '  To  dim  his  glory,  and  to  stain  the  track  Of  his  bright  passage 
to  the  Occident' — Rich,  II:  III,  iii,  66;  '  Clouds  and  eclipses  stain  both  moon  and 
sun,* — Sonn,  xxzv,  3. — Br.  Nicholson  {N.  &*  Qu,  VIII,  i,  182,  1892)  :  No  change 
seems  to  me  to  be  required.  Antony  proudly  says  that  his  preparation  will  so 
show  beside  Caesar's  that  it  will  overpoweringly  eclipse  it  or  stain  it,  as  also  that  it 
will  stain  the  colour  of  Caesar's  wishes  to  Antony's  own.  It  will  change  or  stain 
Caesar's  gules  to  the  olive  colour  of  peace.  Antony's  greater  preparation  will  so 
stain  and  colour  Caesar  and  his  purposes  as  to  effect  a  total  change  in  the  latter; 
change  them  from  thoughts  of  war  to  thoughts  of  the  desirability  and  safety  of  peace. 
— [If  we  could  but  be  perfectly  sure  that  the  effect  on  Caesar  of  Anthony's  staining 
would  be  to  evoke  thoughts  of  peace,  and  not  of  somewhat  excusable  anger,  Dr 
Nicholson's  interpretation  would  be  faultless  and  carry  conviction.  Unfortunately, 
however,  prognostication  is  here  doubtful,  and  '  stain '  cannot  but  convey  a  meaning 
which  is,  to  say  the  least,  uncomfortable.  Hence  the  struggles  of  the  critics  to  soften 
it  But  is  there  any  need  of  softening  it  ?  Be  it  as  offensive  as  it  will,  it  still  remains 
the  word  of  the  text.  Anthony's  bearing  towards  Octavia  is  not  deferential — ^hardly 
gentle.  When  he  enters  he  is  irritably  dissenting  from  her,  and  we  can  see  that  he 
is  providing  for  the  speedy  desertion  of  her,  for  which  we  were  prepared,  in  the  first 
hours  after  he  was  married,  by  his  resolve  to  go  to  Egypt ;  where  his  pleasure  lay. — 
II,  iii,  43.-ED.] 

31.  So  3rour  desires  are  yours]  That  is,  make  the  earliest  haste,  so  that  what 
you  desire  may  become  your  own. 

34-  You  reconciler]  Walker  (Crit,  ii,  191)  quotes  this  «You'  in  his  list  of 
instances  where  you  and  your  have  been  confounded  in  the  Folio,  but  Malone  had 
already  pointed  out  that  the  error  arose  from  a  confusion  by  the  ear,  due  to  the  prox- 
imity of  the  two  r's.     See  line  27,  above. 

34.  Warres  'twixt  jrou  twaine  would  be,  etc.]  Heath  (p.  458) :  The  sense 
seems  to  be.  As  you  are  joint  masters  of  the  world,  which  in  your  union  is  united^ 
so  wars  between  you  give  an  image  of  the  cleaving  of  that  world,  and  you  both 
endeavouring  to  solder  that  cleft  with  the  carcases  of  those  who  will  be  slain  in  the 


ACT  in,  sc.  v.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  193 

As  if  the  world  fliould  cleaue^and  that  flaine  men  35 

Should  foader  vp  the  Rift. 

Anth.     When  it  appeeres  to  you  where  this  begins^ 
Tume  your  difpleafure  that  way,  for  our  faults 
Can  neuer  be  fo  equal!,  that  your  loue 

Can  equally  moue  with  them.     Prouide  your  going,  40 

Choofe  your  owne  company,  and  command  what  coft 
Your  heart  he's  mind  too.  Exeunt.  42 

\Scene  K] 

Enter  Enobarbus ,  and  Eros . 
Eno,     How  now  Friend  Eros  ? 
Eros.     Ther's  ftrange  Newes  come  Sir. 
Eno.     What  man  ? 

Ero.    Ca/ar&LepidushsLuemsLdtvrdLrresyponPompe}^,  5 

Eno.     This  is  old,  what  is  the  fucceffe  ? 

36.  foader^  fodder  F^F^,  Rowe,  Pope.  war, . ,succe5s  ?, . .wars., . rivalty: . .  Jhem ; 

solder  Theob.  .  ,Jetters  . . .  Pompey.  . . .  himt . . .  inlarge, . . 

42.  h€'s'\  hasYi.  confim.Htin,    lAnes  end,  upon.,, Casar, 

Continue  the  scene.  Rowe,  + .  Scene  . . .  Pompty^ . . .  him  . . .  not . .  ,had . .  Mppealy 

V.  Cap.  et  seq.  ...Death.,. confine.  Ktly. 

The  same.     Another  Room  in  the  5.  warres'\    Warre  F,.     War  F^F^, 

same.  Cap.  Rowe,  + . 

1-25.  Om.  Gar.  vp<m\  on  Han. 

I.  Enter...]  Enter... meeting.  Cap.  6.  old^'\  old ;  Pope. 

4.  What'\  What,  Rowe.  what  m]  what^s  Han. 

5>I2.  Cselar...  Confine.'\    Lines  end, 

contest — [Quoted  with  approval  by  Hudson.] — ^Johnson  :  The  sense  is,  that  war 
between  Caesar  and  Antony  would  engage  the  world  between  them,  and  that  the 
slaughter  would  be  great  in  so  extensive  a  commotion. 

6-12.  This  is  old,  .  .  .  his  Confine]  Capell  (i,  38)  :  The  mixture  of  prose  and 
Terse  in  this  scene,  is  a  blemish  that  cannot  be  remedy* d  without  the  exercise  of  such 
liberties  as  are  hardly  justifiable  in  an  editor :  [Hanmer]  has  put  the  prose  into 
measure ;  but  such  measure  as  the  ear  will  be  startl'd  with:  it  will  run  something 
better  in  the  way  that  shall  now  be  prop^s'd,  first  observing — that  *  owne*  [in  1.  ii ; 
see  Johnson's  note]  must  go  out,  as  being  absolute  nonsense :  *Eno.  Pho !  this  is 
old;  What's  the  success?  |  Era.  Casar^  having  made  use  of  him  in  the  wars  | 
'Gainst  Pompey ^  presently  deny'd  him  rivalty  ;  |  Would  not  let  him  partake  i'  the 
glory :  And  |  Not  resting  here,  accuses  him  of  letters  |  He  had  formerly  wrote  [pr^ 
Wrote  formerly]  to  Pompey  :  seizes  him  |  On  his  appeal ;  so  the  poor  third  is  up,  |  'Till 
death  enlarge  his  confine.  |  '  If  the  publick  can  relish  it  thus,  it  is  at  their  service  : 
and,  to  speak  the  truth,  they  should  relish  it ;  for,  independent  of  other  consider- 
ations, the  prose  that  is  given  them  in  the  text  is  every  whit  as  offensive  to  the  ear 
as  even  this  verse. — [As  given  in  the  Text.  Notes,  Hanmer' s  division  of  these  lines 
is  almost  unintelligible,  owing  to  his  textual  emendations,  which  must  be  followed  up 

13 


194  ^^^  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  m,  sc.  v. 

Eros.     Ca/ar  hauing  made  vfe  of  him  in  the  waires  7 

'gainft  Pompeyx  prefently  denied  him  riuality,  would  not 
let  him  partake  in  the  glory  of  the  a£)ion,  and  not  refling 
here,  accufes  him  of  Letters  he  had  formerly  wrote  to  10 

Pampey.  Ypon  his  owne  appeale  feizes  him^  fo  the  poore 
third  is  vp,  till  death  enlarge  his  Confine.  12 

7.  m  tk*\  Vtk'  Han.  Hmn. 

8.  Fompey.-]  Pompty,  Pope.  la  kt\  wJkuJk  Jk^  Han. 
nf«M/ti(y]  rivaUy  Rowe  ii.   Pope,  wr9te\  writUn  Han. 

Tlieob.  Han.  Warb.  Cap.  II.  Pompey.]  Fompey;  O^  ct  aeq. 

9w  in  ike\  of  the  Rowe»  Pope,  Han.  (so^) 

eftkt]  9fY^.  cwme^  Om.  Cap. 

iJU  m/Hfim^  and  im^]  tkem;  Noi  f''*^^  JU  seizes  Han. 

in  the  TexL  AW^  as  they  occnr.  The  subject  is  noC  impoitant  enough  to  ha^te  the 
space  allotted  to  it  which  a  reprint  of  the  whole  passage  would  hare  lequiied.] — 
Dkuus  (Sk,  Jkr^mck,  V,  268)  :  In  this  Scene,  the  first  speedies  between  Enobaibas 
and  Eros,  which  are  historical  merely,  to  keep  the  andience  abreast  of  the  times,  are  in 
prose,  and  rise  to  blank  Terse  only  when  £ix>barbQS,  in  wovds,  whidi  are  hnmo«zr- 
ons  yet  tinged  with  feeling,  apostrophises  the  world  which  most  now  throw  all  its 
food  to  the  two  sarriving  trinmTirs^ 

6.  successe  ?]  Staitnton  :  That  is.  What  follows?  What  is  the  npshol? 

&  preaem]^]  SciimDT  (Lex.)  tnditdes  this  'presently*  in  his  list  of  esan^es 
meaning  not  immediately^  bnt  shortly.  Of  course,  the  dectsfon  will  largely  depend 
OB  our  estimate  of  Cxsar's  character.  I  prefer  to  think  thai  Caesar  acted  with  his 
accustomed  promptitude,  and,  as  soon  as  Lepidns  ceased  to  be  of  any  use  to  him, 
instandy  deposed  him.  In  RiLk.  Ill:  IV,  ii,  26,  there  is  a  striking  instance  of 
the  use  of  ^  presently  *  in  the  sense  of  immediately^  where  we  dioald  assuredly  expect 
^he  meaning  shortly  :  Richard  demands  an  immediate  consent  of  Bockingham  to  &e 
mnrder  of  the  two  yonng  princes ;  Buckingham  pleads  for  delay,  for  *■  scoae  bceatl^ 
some  little  panse  *  and  cooclodes  with  the  promise  '  I  will  resclve  you  herein  pres- 
ently/ Assuredly,  this  can  mean  nothing  else  bat  shortly^  and  yet  the  Qq^  whidi  a 
majority  of  the  editors  believe  haTe  preserved  the  purer  text^  read  *  immc^ately/ 
—Ed. 

8.  riuaHty]  Johnson  :  That  is,  equal  rank. — Steetens  :  So,  in  Hamlet,  Horafio 
and  Marcellus  are  styled  by  Beroardo  '  the  rivals '  of  his  watch. 

It.  VpOQ  his  owne  appenle]  Johnsok:  To  *  appeal/  in  Shakespeare,  is  to 
accuse;  Caesar  seized  Lepidus  without  any  other  proof  than  Caesar's  accusatxm. — 
[When  Capell  omitted  *own,*  it  b  to  be  feared  that  he  fiiiled  to  onderstaod  the 
text  which  Johnson  has  so  justly  interpreted. — Ed.  J 

It,  12.  the  poore  third  is  vp]  Schmidt  {L^x.  s,  v.  6)  defines  'up*  in 
sentence  as  equivalent  to  ^  in  confinement ; '  wherein  be  has  been  virtnalTy  followed 
by  one  or  two  editors  who  ha^e  dedned  it  as  equivalent  to  skmt  up.  Schmidt  hioa- 
self  had  followed  Delias,  as  is  so  often  his  wont :  Delius  thus  translates  the  phrase^ 
*^dec  arme  Triumvir  ist  lebeoslSnglich  eingesteckt,'  whereto  he  was  led,  I  diinlL,  as 
indeed  were  all  the  others^  by  the  second  clause,  '  till  death  enlarge  his  ccmfigm* 
But  I  doubt  that  this  is  the  meaning  here.  To  me  it  rather  conveys  the  meanto^  <if 
Jmitked^  dome^  as  in  the  current  phrase*  'the  giame  is  up.*      The  phrase^    «^k 


Acrni,  sc.  v.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  195 

Eno.    Then  would  thou  hadft  a  paire  of  chapsn  o  more,  1 3 

and  throw  betweene  them  all  the  food  thou  haft,  tliey'le 
grinde  the  other.     Where's  Anthony^  15 

15-15.  TX/iv... Anthony  f[  lines  end,  Warb.  Var.  '73  et  seq. 
wtore: ,,.  host .,.  Antony  f  Han.  Cap.  et  15.  ike  other\  eaek  other  Han.  Ran. 

seq.  Coll.     one  tk*  other  Heath,    the  one  the 

13.  Then„,hadft'\  Then,  World!  thou  other  Qx^,  Mai.  et  seq. 
hast  Han.  Cap.  Mai.  et  seq.  Where ^l  Where  is  Han  CoU.  Wh. 

chapsn  o  more,"]  chaps,  no  more,  Hal.  Ktly. 
Theob.  Johns,     chaps,  no  more;  Han. 

Parliament  is  ap,'  *  the  Court  is  up/  quoted  by  The  Century  Dictionary,  are  hardly 
parallel,  inasmuch  as  there  may  be  the  subaudition  in  them  of  rising  up  from  their 
teats  when  the  session  is  over.  *  Till  death  enlarge  his  confine '  may  merely  refer  to 
no  other  confinement  than  the  muddy  vesture  of  decay  which  hems  us  all  in, — Ed. 

13.  Then  would  thou  hadst  a  paire  of  chapsn  o  more]  Since  the  days  of 
Malone's  edition  in  1790,  the  list  is  unbroken  of  editors  who  have  accepted  Han- 
Mia's  emendation,  *Then,  world,*  Hudson  explains  that  'a  pair  of  chaps'  is 
'  smply  an  upper  and  a  lower  jaw ' ;  and  Malone  that  *  no  more '  means  <  and  only 
a  pair.'  Johnson  paraphrases  the  whole  sentence,  *  Caesar  and  Antony  will  make 
war  on  each  other,  though  they  have  the  world  to  prey  upon  between  them.' 

14.  throw  betweene  them  all  the  food,  etc.]  Heath  (p.  458)  :  I  apprehend 
this  reflection  is  intended  as  a  satire  on  the  insatiable  and  incompatible  nature  of 
ambition,  which  no  acquisitions  can  content,  nor  any  considerations  can  reconcile  to 
endure  a  partner. 

14,  15.  they'le  grinde  the  other]  In  referring  to  the  emendation,  'they'll  grind 
the  one  the  other,'  Lettsom  (Walker,  Crit,  ii,  259,  footnote)  observes  that  it  'seems 
to  be  the  joint  property  of  Capell  and  Johnson.'  Johnson  assuredly  proposed  it  in 
hit  edition  published  in  1765.  Capell's  edition  (in  which  the  emendation  appears 
in  the  text  printed  in  black  letter  as  an  indication  that  it  is  not  in  the  original) 
is  undated,  but  his  Preface  is  dated  1767  ;  and  in  a  note  on  p.  18  of  his  Intro- 
duetion,  he  gives  the  dates  at  which  his  volumes  went  irregularly  to  the  press :  *  the 
first  sheet  of  this  work,'  he  says,  •  (being  the  first  of  volume  2)  went  to  the  press  in 
September,  1760 :  and  this  volume  was  foUow'd  by  volume  8  [the  volume  contain- 
ing the  present  play],  4,  9,  I,  6,  and  7  ;  the  last  of  which  was  printed  off  in  August, 
1765.'  Guided  by  this  note,  I  have  hitherto  uniformly  assumed  that  vol.  8  was 
printed  in  1761,  four  years  before  Johnson's  edition.  But  Capell  nowhere  says  that 
his  volumes  were  issued  in  the  years  they  were  printed ;  hence,  for  aught  we  can 
tell,  they  may  have  all  appeared  on  the  same  day  in  1766  or  1767,  a  full  year  lag  of 
Johnson's.  The  fact,  therefore,  appears  to  be  that,  as  regards  the  present  emen- 
dation, to  Capell  belongs  the  priority  of  devising  and  of  printing,  and  to  Johnson 
the  priority  of  publication,  and  it  is  publication  that  confers  the  prize  and  decides  the 
ownership.  Unfortunately  for  both  critics,  however,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  their  claims 
may  be  somewhat  shorn  of  their  glory.  Heath's  Rrvisal  of  Shakespearis  Text 
appeared  in  1765,  before  either  Johnson's  edition  or  Capell's,— both  refer  to  it.  On 
p.  458,  Heath  remarks  that  there  seemed  to  be  an  error  in  the  present  phrase  which 
•may  be  thus  corrected,  "  They'll  grind  one  th'  other,"  '  which  certainly  contains  the 
gemi,  afterwards  expanded  by  both  Capell  and  Johnson  into  *the  one  the  other;' 


196  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi,  sc  v. 

Eros.     He^s  walking  in  the  garden  thus,  and  fpumes  16 

The  rufti  that  lies  before  him.     Cries  Foole  LepiduSy 
And  threats  the  throate  of  that  his  Officer, 
That  murdred  Pampey. 

Eno.     Our  great  Nauies  rig'd.  20 

Eros.     For  Italy  and  Cce/arjVaoT^  Domititis^ 
My  Lord  defires  you  prefently  :  my  Newes 
I  might  haue  told  heareafter. 

Eno,  ^Twillbe  naught,  but  let  it  be :  bring  me  to  Anthony, 

Eros.     Come  Sir,  Exeunt.  25 

16.  garden  MmxJ  garden  thus;  1 8.  Mr^o/f]  Mr^ra/ Han.  ii  (misprint) 
Thcob.  +  ,Cap.  garden-^ihus ;WBX,'^%  20.  Nauies'\Navie'sY^^,  Naiy'sY^. 
et  seq.  (subs.)                                                        21.  Csefar,  m^r^]  Qesar ;  mere  Kowt, 

17.  Cries']  Crys,  Rowe.  Qesar,  More,  Johns,  ct  seq. 

Foole    Lepidus]     As    quotation,  24.  hi/  ...  Anthony]    Separate  line, 

Theob.  Han.  Cap.  et  seq. 

their  'joint  property'  turns  out,  therefore,  to  be  the  priceless  asset  of  the  definite 
article. — Ed. 

16.  in  the  garden  thus]  Wherever  in  Capell's  text  there  appears  a  dagger 
inserted  between  words  or  phrases,  it  is  an  indication  of  some  action  to  be  taken  by 
the  speaker.  For  instance,  where  Cleopatra  says  to  the  Messenger,  '  there  is  gold, 
and  here  My  bluest  veins  to  kiss,'  the  lines  thus  appear  in  Capell's  text :  'there  is  f 
gold  and  here  f  My  bluest  veins  to  kiss,'  indicating  that  Cleopatra  extends  one  hand 
with  gold  and  the  other  to  be  kissed ;  it  would  be  truly  deplorable  were  an  actress  to 
suppose  that  Egypt's  queen  uses  her  feet  on  this  occasion,  and  against  this  easy  error 
Capell  kindly  does  all  he  can  to  protect  her.  In  the  present  line,  after  '  garden ' 
Capell  unsheaths  a  dagger,  which  means,  I  suppose,  that  Eros  imitates  Anthony's 
impatient  strides.  Here  the  little  dagger  is  not  too  intrusive,  albeit  the  end  would 
have  been  gained  by  a  dash,  which  Steevens,  possibly  taking  the  hint  from  Capell, 
adopted,  and  has  been  followed  herein  by  all  editors  ever  since. — Ed. 

21.  more  Domitius]  Johnson:  I  have  something  more  to  tell  you,  which  I 
might  have  told  at  first  and  delayed  my  news.  Antony  requires  your  presence.— 
[In  a  note  on  « Conlord,'  II,  vii,  6,  I  stated  that  the  ignorant  haphazard  guesses  of 
George  Gould  would  possibly  cumber  these  pages  no  more.  If  anything  be  needed 
to  justify  this  decision,  a  note  on  *  Domitius '  by  that  critic  will  supply  it.  It  is  as 
follows :  *  This  is  a  curious  misrendering  of  manuscript,  as  there  are  only  Eros  and 
Enobarbus,  whom  he  is  addressing,  on  the  scene,  and  as  there  is  no  Domitius  in  the 
play.  Eros  simply  tells  Enobarbus  that  Antony  is  waiting  for  him.'  There  is  no 
need  to  moralise  the  spectacle  of  attempts  to  amend  the  language  of  Shakespeare  by 
one  who  has  not  even  read  over  the  Dramatis  Persona  in  any  conmion  edition.  As 
far  as  George  Gould  is  concerned,  in  these  pages,  the  rest  is  silence. — Ed.] 

24.  'Twillbe  naught]  Capell  (i,  38)  :  This  has  no  relation  to  Eros'  last  words, 
but  means, — the  event  will  be  naught ;  and  is  spoke  with  a  look  of  much  thought- 
fulness,  and  after  a  silence  of  some  length. 


Acrm,  sc.  vi]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  197 

\Scene  VL\ 

Enter  Agrippa^  Mecenas ,  and  Ccefar. 
Qb/.     Contemning  Rome  he  ha's  done  all  this^  &  more 
In  Alexandria  :  heere's  the  manner  of  ^t  : 
Pth'Market-pIace  on  a  Tribunall  filuer'd, 

Cleopatra  and  himfelfe  in  Chaires  of  Gold  5 

Were  publikely  enthronM  :  at  the  feet,  fat 
OEfarion  whom  they  call  my  Fathers  Sonne,  7 

Scene  V.  Rowe,  + .     Scene  VI.  C^.  3.  manner\  matter  F^F^,  Rowe,  Pope, 

et  seq.  Han. 

Rome.Rowe.   The  Palace  in  Rome.  ^^]  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.     of  it 

Theob.     A   Room   in  Caesar's  house.  Ff  et  cet. 

Csp.  4.  on  a\on  a  aY^, 

1.  Enter...]  Enter  Caesar,  Agrippa,  7.  Caefarion]  Cafario  Rowe,  Pbpe, 
and  Mecaenas.  Rowe.  Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 

2.  hds\  has  FjF^.  Fathers\  father  F,. 

2,  3.  Contemning  Rome  .  .  .  oft]  Capell  (i,  38)  :  The  punctuation  of  former 
editions,  old  and  new,  sets  this  line  and  the  next  in  a  light  that  is  not  true,  the  truth 
of  it  being  as  follows.  Caesar  enters  in  converse  with  some  to  whom  he  has  been 
giving  various  instances  of  Antony's  ill  behaviour,  and  goes  on  to  another  and  greater 
that  happen'd  at  Alexandria;  and,  in  entering  upon  it,  puts  into  their  hands  the  dis- 
patch he  received  it  by. — [Of  Capell's  punctuation  of  this  passage  no  note  appears  to 
have  ever  been  taken  ;  possibly  because,  being  a  matter  of  CapelPs  individual  prefer- 
ence, it  is  impossible  to  gainsay  it.  It  is  like  Henderson's  reading  *  many  a  time, — 
and  oft  on  the  Rialto.'  Capell  thus  reads :  '  Contemning  Rome,  he  has  done  all  this: 
And  more ;  |  In  Alexandria, — here's  the  manner  of  it, —  |  I'the  market-place,'  etc. 
(In  Capell' s  version,  which  he  made  for  Garrick,  the  lines  read  :  « Contemning  Rome, 
he  <&/all  this:  And  once^  \  In  Alexandria, — here's  the  manner  of  it,'  etc.)  Surely 
this  punctuation  has  much  to  commend  it. — Ed.] 

3.  In  Alexandria,  etc.]  See  Plutarch,  Appendix, 

6.  at  the  feet]  This  is  *at  their  feet'  in  Collier's  Monovolume,  1853,  which  is 
sapposed  to  contain  all  changes  made  by  his  MS.  The  change  is  trifling  and  pos- 
sible.—Ed. 

7.  my  Fathers  Sonne]  Julius  Caesar  was  the  great  uncle  of  Octavius.  That  he 
is  here  called  his  *  father '  is,  possibly,  due  to  a  passage  in  Plutarch's  Life  of  Brutus 
(p.  1063,  ed.  1595;  P-  '23,  cd.  Skeat)  where  we  find  that  Octavius  Caesar  « was  the 
Sonne  of  lulius  Caesars  Nece,  whom  he  had  adopted  for  his  sonne,  and  made  his 
hcire,  by  his  last  will  and  testament  But  when  lulius  Caesar  his  adopted  father 
was  alaine,  he  was,'  etc.  At  the  first  glance,  it  seems  as  though  there  were  here  two 
separate  legal  acts :  an  adoption  as  a  son  and  the  making  of  an  heir ;  in  reality  there 
was  but  one.  It  was  only  by  Caesar's  Will  that  Octavius  became  an  adopted  son, 
and  this  was  evidently  so  unusual  and  doubtful  a  process  that  Octavius  afterward  had 
the  adoption  confirmed  by  the  curiae.  *The  phrase  of  "adoption  by  testament" 
(Cic.  Brutus,  58)  seems,'  says  Prof.  George  Long  (Smith's  Diet.  Greek  and  Roman 
Antiquities,  s.  v.  Adoptio)  *  to  be  rather  a  misapplication  of  the  term  ;  for  though  a 


198  THE  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  hi,  sc  vi. 

And  all  the  vnlawfuU  iflfue^  that  their  Luft  8 

Since  then  hath  made  betweene  them.    Vnto  her, 
He  gaue  the  ftablifliment  of  Egypt^  made  her  lO 

Of  lower  Syria,  Cyprus,Lydia,  abfolute  Queene. 

Mece.    This  in  the  publike  eye  ? 

Ca/ar.     Ttfa'common  ftiew  place,  where  they  exercife, 
His  Sonnes  hither  proclaimed  the  King  of  Kings, 
Great  Media,  Parthia,  and  Armenia  15 

He  gaue  to  Alexander.    To  Ptolomy  he  aflign'd, 
Syria,  Silida,  and  Phoeneda  :  (he 
In  th'abiliments  of  the  Goddefle  IJis  18 

11.  Of^-Lydia]  One  line,  Rowe  ii  14.  proclaimed']  proclaimed  F,F^  et 
et  seq.                                                             seq. 

Lydial  Lybia  Upton,  Johns.  the  Kmg'\  Yi,    the  kimgs  Rowe 

12.  in\is  Ff.  et  seq. 

13.  Jhew  place]  skeiv-place  Rowe.  l6.  Ptolomy]  Ptolemy  F^F^. 

exercife^]  exercise,  Thcob.  he]  Om.  Han. 

14.  hither]   Ff.     were  there  Rowe,  17.  PActnetia]  Fhemicia  Ff. 

P6pe,  Theob.    Han.   Warb.     he  there  18.  th'aHliwtents]     the     hahiUmemis 

Johns,  et  cet.  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 

man  or  woman  might  by  testament  name  a  heres,  and  impose  the  condition  of  the 
heres  taking  the  name  of  the  testator  or  testatrix,  this  so-called  adoption  could  not 
pioduce  the  effects  of  a  proper  adoption.  It  could  give  to  the  person  so  said  to  be 
adopted,  the  name  or  property  of  the  testator  or  testatrix,  but  nothing  more.  Niebuhr 
(Lectures^  vol.  ii,  p.  loo)  speaks  of  the  testamentary  adoption  of  C.  Octavius  by 
C.  Julius  Csesar,  as  the  first  that  he  knew  of;  but  the  passage  of  Cicero  in  the  Brutui 
and  another  passage  i^Ad  Hirt.  viii,  8)  show  that  other  instances  had  occurred  before. 
A  person  on  passing  from  one  gens  into  another,  and  taking  the  name  of  his  new 
Cunilia,  generally  retained  the  name  of  his  old  gens  also,  with  the  addition  to  it 
of  the  termination  -anus  (Cic  ad  Att.  iii,  20,  and  the  note  of  Victorius).  Thus, 
C.  Octavius,  afterwards  the  Emperor  Augustus,  upon  being  adopted  by  the  testm- 
ment  of  his  uncle,  the  dictator,  assumed  the  name  of  Caius  Julius  Csesar  Octavianus ; 
but  he  caused  the  adoption  to  be  confirmed  by  the  curix.  As  to  the  testamentary 
adoption  of  C.  Octavius,  see  Drumann,  Gesckichte  Ronu.  i,  337,  and  the  references 
there  given.*  Were  there  any  proof  that  Shakespeare  had  ever  read  Dion  Cassius,  I 
should  not  have  referred  to  Plutorch  as  the  possible  source  of  this  use  of  'father.* 
Dion  Cassius  speaks  over  and  over  again  of  Julius  Caesar  as  the  father  of  Octavius. 
—Ed. 

II.  Lydia]  Upton  (p.  243)  changed  *Lydia'  to  LyHa,  on  the  authority  of  the 
original  Greek  of  Plutarch.  But  Shakespeare  merely  followed  North's  Translation. 
M.  Mason  calls  attention  to  line  76  of  this  scene  where  *  Bochus  *  is  called  *  the 
King  of  Lybia,*  thereby  proving  that  *  the  present  reading  [Lydia]  is  right.* 

14.  Sonnes  hither  proclaimed]  In  'hither*  there  is  another  mishearing. 

18.  In  th'abiliments]  Murray  (M  E,  D.)  :  Obsolete  form  of  HaHliment,  used 
in  all  the  senses,  but  especially  in  those  of  warlike  munitions  and  accoutrements. 


ACT  III,  sc.  vi.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA  199 

That  day  appeer'd,  and  oft  before  gaue  audience, 

As  ^tis  reported  fo.  20 

Mece.     Let  Rome  be  thus  informM. 

Agri.    Who  queazie  with  his  infolence  already, 
Will  their  good  thoughts  call  from  him. 

Ca/ar.    The  people  knowes  it, 
And  haue  now  receiuM  his  accufations.  25 

Agri.     Who  does  he  accufe  ? 

Cafar.     Cce/ar ^dJid  that  hauing  in  Cicilie 
Sextus  Pompeitis  fpoil'd,  we  had  not  rated  him 
His  part  o'th'Ifle.     Then  does  he  fay,  he  lent  me 
Some  (hipping  vnreftor'd.     Laftly,  he  frets  30 

That  Lepidus  of  the  Triumpherate,  (hould  be  deposM, 
And  being  that,  we  detaine  all  his  Reuenue. 

Agri.     Sir,this  (hould  be  anfwer^d.  33 

20.  reported f6\  reported^  fo  Ff  ct  seq.  27.  and  that'\for  that  Han. 

(except  Var.  *2I.)  Cicilie\  Sicily  Rowe. 

21-23.  Let,.,him.'\  Lines  end,  thus,..  31,  32.  That,..  Reuenue'^  Lines  end, 

intoUnee...him.   Han.  Cap.  Var. '78  et  Triumvirate  ...detain...  revenue. '^o^t 

seq.  (except  Knt.)  et  seq. 

22.  Agri.]  Om.  Han.  31.    Triumpherate,"]  Triumvirate,  Ff. 

24, 25.  The...receitid'\  One  line.  Pope  triumvirate  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 

ct  seq.  32.  And  being  that,"]  F,,  Rowei.  And 

24.  kmnves]  hum  F^F^  ct  seq.  being  that  FjF^.    And  being,  that  Rowe 

26.  Wb]  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  ii.  Pope,  Han.  and, being that^Wzx.  *2I. 
whom  Ff  et  cet.  and^  being,  that  Theob.  et  cet. 

does]  dds  F^F^,  Rowe  i.  33.  an/wer'd]  an/werdY^.  anfwered 

27.  Cselar,]  C4Esar ;  Theob.  Warb.  et        F^F^,  Rowe  i. 
seq. 

things  which  fitted  out  or  made  able  for  war. — Ibid.  (s.  v.  Habiliment,  4  plural)  : 
The  apparel,  vestments  or  garments  appropriate  to  any  office  or  occasion.  (In  this 
sense  initial  h  has  always  prevailed ;  the  connection  with  able,  tUnliiy^  bong  less 
obvious,  and  that  with  modem  French  habit,  habillement  more  so. ) 

30,  31.  he  frets  That  Lepidus  of  the  Triumpherate,  should  be  depos'd] 
See  n,  iii,  30,  where  Abbott  and  Franz  are  quoted,  who  would  explain  this  *  of '  as 
grammatically  following  'should  be  deposed.'  This  use  of  *of  *  after  'depose*  is 
the  accepted  idiom ;  see  the  examples  in  the  N.  E.  D.  (j.  v.  depose,  f  4,  f  b).  At  the 
same  time  it  may  be  observed  from  the  punctuation  of  the  Ff  (nowhere  followed  since 
Rowe,  ed.  ii),  that  the  compositor  did  not  recognize  this  idiom,  but  supposed  the 
sense  to  be,  as  it  is  quite  possible  it  may  be,  '  he  frets  that  Lepidus,  he  of  the  Tri- 
umvirate, should  be  deposed.' — Ed. 

32.  And  being  that,  we  detaine]  The  Text.  Notes  reveal  the  various  punctu- 
ations to  which  these  words  have  been  subjected,  without,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
greatly  affecting  the  sense.  The  most  idiomatic  appears  to  be  that  of  Theobald, 
adopted  by  the  majority  of  editors.  Abbott*s  remark  ($  404,  quoted  at  II,  ii,  42) 
then  Implies,  which  explains  <  being '  as  equivalent  to  ii  being  to. 


200  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi.  sc.  vi. 

Ccefar.     'Tis  done  already ,  and  the  Meflenger  gone : 
I  haue  told  him  Lepidus  was  growne  too  cruelly  35 

That  he  his  high  Authority  abusM, 
And  did  deferue  his  change  :  for  what  I  haue  conquered, 
I  grant  him  part :  but  then  in  his  Armenia, 
And  other  of  his  conquered  Kingdoms,  I  demand  the  like 

Mec.     HeeU  neuer  yeeld  to  that.  40 

Ccef.     Nor  muft  not  then  be  yeelded  to  in  this. 
Enter  06lauia  with  her  Traine. 

06la.     Haile  Ccefary  and  my  L.  haile  moft  deere  Ca/ar. 

Ccefar.     That  euer  I  fliould  call  thee  Caft-away. 

06la,     You  haue  not  call'd  me  fo,  nor  haue  you  caufe.  45 

Ccef.    Why  haue  you  ftoln  vpon  vs  thus/you  come  not 
Like  Ca/ars  Sifter,     The  wife  of  Anthony  47 

34.  the]  his  Ff,  Rowe,  +.   a  Coll.  '53.  39.  /he  /the]  the  like,  F^  et  seq. 

35.  /  haue  told]  I  told  Rowe  ii,  +  ,  40.  neuer]  »/Vr  Theob.  u,  Waib. 
Vai'.'73.     Pve  told  Dyce  ii,  iii.  41.  mujl  not]  must  he  Pope^  Theob. 

36.  he  his]  his  Ff.  Han  Warb. 

37.  change:  for]  chance  for  Ff.  42.  with  her  Traine.]  with  AUend- 
chance.  For  Rowe.     change.  For  Pope,  ants.  Rowe.     Om.  Cap. 

-H,  Var.  '73.  43.  my  Z.]  my  LordY^^, 

I  haue]  I've  Pope,  +  ,  Dyce  ii,  46.  haue  you]  haft  thou  F(,  Rowe, 

iii.  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Cap. 

38.  his]  this  Han.  ii.  vpon  vs]  upon  me  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 

39.  And,,, I]  Separate  line,  Rowe  et  Han. 

seq.  come]  came  Ff,  Rowe. 

34.  Messenger]  Walker  {^Vers,  200)  scans  this  word  as  a  <quasi-disyllable.' 
Does  there  not  lie  in  this  <  quasi '  a  confession  of  weakness,  nay,  timidity  ?  What 
honest  man  who  loves  the  music  of  his  English  tongue  would  openly  assert  that  we 
must  adopt,  in  poetry  (of  all  loves !),  such  words  as  messgers,  passgersf  Abbott 
(5  468)  follows  Walker  and  observes  that  «any  unaccented  syllable  of  a  poly- 
syllable may  be  sometimes  softened  and  almost  ignored,*  and  would  fain  have  as 
imagine  that  the  tripping  dactyl  'messenger*  is  softened  when  uttered  as  a  grim 
spondee,  messger, — Ed. 

42.  with  her  Traine]  Capell  omitted  these  words  because,  I  presume,  he  noted 
that  Caesar  says  to  Octavia  *  you  are  come  A  market-maid  to  Rome ; '  in  this  omission  he 
was  followed  by  every  editor  down  to  Collier,  who  revives  the  present  stage^iirection 
and  remarks,  *  there  can  be  no  possible  reason  for  following  the  example  of  modem 
editors  by  omitting  these  words.  It  must  have  been  a  small  train  ;  she  had  not  "an 
army  for  an  usher,**  as  appears  by  what  follows,  but  she  was  not  wholly  unattended, 
according  to  the  practice  of  the  stage  when  the  Folio  was  printed.* 

43.  Haile  Caesar,  and  my  L.]  Deighton  :  Her  salutation  is  to  him  not  only  as 
Caesar,  ruler  of  Rome,  but  as  one  to  whom  as  the  head  of  her  family  she  owes 
allegiance. 

47.  The  wife  of  Anthony,  etc.]  Corson  (p.  296) :  The  extravagance  of  Caesar's 
language  is  evidently  designed  to  exhibit  his  insincerity. 


ACT  III,  sc.  vi.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  201 

Should  haue  an  Army  for  an  Vfher^  and  48 

The  neighes  of  Horfe  to  tell  of  her  approach. 

Long  ere  (he  did  appeare.     The  trees  by'thVay  50 

Should  haue  borne  men,  and  expe6lation  fainted, 

Longing  for  what  it  had  not.     Nay,  the  duft 

Should  haue  afcended  to  the  Roofe  of  Heauen, 

RaisM  by  your  populous  Troopes  :  But  you  are  come 

A  Market-maid  to  Rome,  and  haue  preuented  55 

The  oftentation  of  our  loue ;  which  left  vnfhewne, 

Is  often  left  vnlouM  :  we  (hould  haue  met  you  57 

50.  byth'^  F,.     by  M'  F^F^.     by  tfu        Cap.  Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13. 

Cap.  et  seq.  57.  Uft^  felt  ^xng.  conj.  Huds. 

51.  bome\  Fj.  bam  F  F^,  Rowc,  Pope,  vnlou^d^  unpriaed  or  uncared/ar 
Han.  Cap.                                                         or  unknown  Bailey. 

56.  oflentati4m]  ostent  Theob.    Han. 

56.  The  ostentation]  Theobald  :  I  dare  say  the  poet  wrote :  <  The  oiteniy  s.  e. 
the  shewing,  token,  demonstration  of  oar  love ;  and  he  uses  it  both  in  these  accept- 
ations, and  likewise  to  signify  ostentation.  The  Alexandrine  therefore  is  wholly 
unnecessary.  [Theobald  here  gives  examples  of  ostent  from  the  Mer,  of  Ven,  and 
Hen.  V.  Steevrns  appropriated  this  emendation  of  Theobald,  even  to  the  illus- 
tiBtions  from  the  Mer.  of  Ven.  and  Hen.  V. ;  these,  he  calmly  remarks,  '  sufficiently 
anthorize  [ostent']  the  slight  change  I  have  made.'  Not  unnaturally.  Walker  was 
dnis  misled  when  (Crit.  iii,  302)  he  made  the  following  note]  :  *  Steevens,  perceiv- 
ing the  defect  in  the  verse,  reads, — ostent ;  which  word,  however,  is  always  pro- 
noonced  by  Shakespeare  ostint ;  neither  am  I  sure  that  he  would  have  used  it  in  this 
sense.  I  suspect  that  the  true  reading  is  ostention  (properly  ostenston).  This  is 
nesier  to  the  common  text.  Shakespeare  is  continually  coining  words  from  the 
Latin.' 

57.  Is  often  left  vnlou'd]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  *Is  often  Ae/d  unlov'd,'  says  the 
MS  ;  but  with  doubtful  fitness. — Singer  {SA.  Vind.  p.  293) :  The  word  felt,  by  a 
common  accident  at  press,  may  have  been  jumbled  into  *  left/  consisting  of  the  same 
letters. — Anon.  (Blackwood,  Oct  1853,  p.  467)  :  If  either  of  these  emendations  were 
adopted,  we  should  require  to  read,  *  is  often  felt  unloving^  and  this  the  measure  will 
not  permit.  We  therefore  stand  by  the  old  text,  the  meaning  of  which  we  conceive  to 
be — love  which  is  left  unshown  is  often  left  unretumed. — Staunton  :  With  more 
likelihood  we  should  read,  *  Is  often  left  unprii^d:  •  Unlov'd '  is  a  very  problemati- 
cal  expression  here,  and  appears  to  have  been  partly  formed  by  the  compositor  from  the 
word  •  love  *  in  the  preceding  line. — Hudson  [adopting  Singer's  felt\  :  The  passage 
b  commonly  so  pointed  as  to  make  *  which,'  referring  to  *  love,'  the  subject  of  is  felt ; 
whereas  it  should  be  the  clause  itself, — *  which  being  left  unshown,*  or  *  the  leaving 
of  which  unshown.' — Corson  (p.  297)  :  *  Is  often  left  unloved '  means,  deprived  of  its 
chaxacter  as  love. — Schmidt  (Lex.  s.  v.  Unloved) :  That  is,  not  felt ;  to  love  a  lave  being 
A  similar  phrase,  as,  for  instance,  to  think  a  thought ;  compare  *  what  ruins  are  in  me 
.  .  .  by  him  not  rained  ?  '  Com.  Err.  II,  i,  96.  *  the  want  that  you  have  wanted.*  Lear, 
ly  iy  2S2. — [The  meaning  of  *  left  unloved '  may  be,  as  Schmidt  says,  *  not  felt,'  but  the 


202  ^  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  vL 

By  Sea,  and  Land,  fupplying  euery  Stage  58 

With  an  augmented  greeting. 

0£la.     Good  my  Lord,  60 

To  come  thus  was  I  not  conftrain'd,  but  did  it 
On  my  free-will.     My  Lord  Marke  Anthony ^ 
Hearing  that  you  prepared  for  Warre,  acquainted 
My  greeued  eare  withall  .•  whereon  I  begged 
His  pardon  for  retume.  65 

CcBf.    Which  foone  he  granted, 
Being  an  ab(lra6l  'tweene  his  Lufl,and  him.  67 

62.  On\  OfQjoW,  '53.  67.  abftraO]  Ff,  Rowc,  Pope,  Knt, 

64.  greeufd']  grieving  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,        Del.     obstruction  Ktly.     obstacle  Cait- 
Cap.  Var.  '73.  wright     obstruct  Theob.  ct  cet 

learned  German  is,  I  think,  far  astray  when  he  holds  the  present  phrase  to  be  an 
instance  of  the  common  construction  of  a  verb  with  its  cognate  accusative ;  nor  are 
either  of  the  examples  which  he  quotes  parallels  to  the  present  phrase.  He  was 
misled,  I  think,  by  the  jingle  of  the  words.  Adriana  asks,  <  what  ruins  are  there  in 
me  which  cannot  be  found  to  have  been  made  ruins  by  him  ? '  So,  too,  Cordelia 
deserves  to  experience  the  want  of  that  affection  in  which  she  had  herself  been 
wanting.  In  what  respect  are  these  two  examples  parallel  in  construction  to  *  the 
ostentation  of  love  which  when  left  unshown  is  not  felt '  ?  Of  course,  in  the  three 
paraphrases  just  given,  cognate  accusatives  cannot  be  found,  and  for  the  simple  reason 
that  they  do  not  exist  in  the  original  sentences ;  herein  lay  Dr  Schmidt's  error.  In 
the  interpretation  of  the  present  phrase  it  seems  to  me  that  there  has  been  a  mis- 
apprehension of  the  person  by  whom  the  love  is  felt.  The  generally  accepted  mean- 
ing seems  to  be  that  if  there  is  no  expression  of  love,  love  will  soon  cease  to  esdsL 
This,  however,  implies  the  possibility  that  Caesar's  love  for  his  *  dearest  sister '  might 
grow  cold,  which  is  hardly  an  expression  of  deep  fraternal  feeling.  It  amounts 
almost  to  a  threat.  Whereas,  Caesar  is  pleading  tenderly  for  himself,  with  gentle 
reproaches  because  Octavia  has  given  him  no  chance  to  show  his  love  for  her,  and 
urges  that  if  there  is  no  demonstration  of  his  love  she  will  soon  cease  to  care  whether 
he  loves  her  or  not,  his  love  will  be  no  longer  prized  ;  it  becomes  unvalued,  *  unloved.' 
—Ed.] 

65.  pardon]  Schmidt  (Z^'x.)  :  Sometimes  almost  equivalent  to  leave,  permission. 
67.  an  abstract]  Theobald  :  If  Mr  Pope  or  any  other  of  the  editors  understand 

this  [< abstract'],  I'll  willingly  submit  to  be  taught  the  meaning;  but  till  then,  I 
must  believe,  the  Poet  wrote,  *  an  obstruct ^^  i.  e.  his  wife  being  an  obstruction,  a  bar, 
to  the  prosecution  of  his  pleasures  with  Cleopatra.  And  I  am  the  rather  convinced 
that  this  is  the  true  reading,  because  Mr  Warburton  started  the  emendation  too, 
unknowing  that  I  had  meddled  with  the  passage. — [Warburton  in  his  edition  made 
no  allusion  to  Theobald,  but  set  forth  the  emendation  as  wholly  his  own,  while 
repeating  Theobald's  very  words  in  defining  obstruct,'] — Steevens  :  I  am  by  no  means 
certain  that  this  change  lobstruct"]  was  necessary.  Henley  pronounces  it  to  be  <  need- 
less, and  that  it  ought  to  be  rejected,  as  perverting  the  sense.'  One  of  the  meanings 
of  abstracted  is — separcUed^  disjoined;  and  therefore  our  poet,  with  his  usual  licence. 


ACT m,  sc.  vi.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  203 

0£la.     Do  not  fay  fo,  my  Lord.  68 

Caf.     I  haue  eyes  vpon  him, 
And  his  affaires  come  to  me  on  the  wind:wher  is  he  now?  70 

0£la.     My  Lord,  in  Athens. 

CcBfar.     No  my  moft  wronged  Sifter,  Cleopatra 
Hath  nodded  him  to  her.     He  hath  giuen  his  Empire 
Vp  to  a  Whore,  who  now  are  leuying 
The  Kings  o'th'earth  for  Warre.     He  hath  affembled,  75 

70.  And ,.,  wind']  One  line,  Rowe  et  74.  who  now  are]   and  now  the^rt 
seq.                                                                   Words. 

whtr  is  he]  Where ^  say  you^  he  is  are]  is  Gip.  conj.  Ran. 

Cap.  75-^3-  He,,. Scepters]  Om.  Gar. 

71.  in]  he  is  in  Han.  75.  JJe]  She  dp.  conj.  Ran. 
74.  who]  they  Coll.  MS,  Ktly.  affembled]  diffembUdY^^, 

■  '    '  '  ■  — i^^^«^B^^«^^^-^^  I     ■am  B  -  .    .     I.  -  ■^m^mm^^m^^^^^ 

might  have  used  it  for  a  disjunctive,  I  believe  there  is  no  such  substantive  as 
obstruct :  besides,  we  say,  an  obstruction  to  a  thing,  but  not  between  one  thing  and 
another.  As  Mr  Malone,  however,  is  contented  with  Dr  Warburton's  reading,  I 
hive  left  it  in  our  text. — Knight  :  Although  <  abstract '  may  be  used  with  sufficient 
licence,  it  gives  as  the  meaning  which  the  poet  would  express,  that  Octavia  was 
aomething  separating  Anthony  from  the  gratification  of  his  desires.  It  is  better 
to  hold  to  the  original,  seeing  that  Shakespeare  sometimes  employs  words  with  a 
meaning  peculiar  to  himself.  His  boldness  may  not  be  justified  by  example, — but 
his  meaning  has  always  reference  to  the  original  sense  of  the  word. — Singer  :  An 
abstract  between  is  surely  nonsense. — Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  <  Abstract '  — a  mere  mis- 
print, which  is  set  right  in  the  MS.  [i,e.  by  obstruct.] — Deli  us :  *  Abstract*  is 
equivalent  to  abbreznation^  abridgement^  shortenings  and  refers  to  the  'pardon  for 
return.*  Anthony  gladly  granted  Octavia' s  return  to  Rome,  because  therein  lay  an 
abridgement  or  curtailing  of  the  hindrances  between  his  lust  and  him ;  that  is, 
between  the  lovers  now  separated  by  Octavia*  s  presence.  The  majority  of  editors 
refer  'abstract*  to  Octavia,  instead  of  properly  to  'which.* — Schmidt  {Lex,  s.  v. 
Abstract)  :  That  is,  the  shortest  way  for  him  and  his  desires,  the  readiest  opportunity 
to  encompass  his  wishes. — [To  me,  Delius*s  definition  of  'abstract,*  with  its  reference 
to  <  which,*  carries  conviction  ;  it  is  justly  drawn  from  the  strict  meaning  of  the  word. 
Schmidt*  s  paraphrase  is  weak  and  inferior  to  that  of  Delius,  from  which  it  is,  not 
improbably,  derived.  I  cannot  find  'abstract,*  as  here  used,  in  the  N.  E,  D,;  of 
obstruct^  Dr  Murray  says, '  not  otherwise  known  *  than  here  in  Theobald's  emendation. 
In  a  choice  between  a  word  coined  by  Shakespeare  and  one  coined  by  Theobald,  I 
prefer  the  former,  even  were  it  as  dark  as. ignorance. — Ed.] 

70,  71.  wber  is  he  now?  My  Lord,  in  Athens]  Inasmuch  as  this  is  printed  as 
one  line  since  the  days  of  Rowe,  albeit  lacking  a  syllable.  Walker  (CnV.  ii,  145) 
conjectured  that  at  the  end  of  the  line  Caesar  exclaims  No  (in  addition  to  the  ' No* 
beginning  line  72).  Walker  adds,  *  The  omission  of  a  word  or  words  at  the  end  of 
a  line,  not  altogether  unfrequent  in  the  Folio,  appears  to  have  happened  oftener  than 
usual  in  the  latter  part  of  this  play.* 

749  75*  ^ho  i^^  ^^^  leuying  .  .  .  He  hath]  Capell  (i,  38) :  The  lines  should 
be  read  thus,  'who  now  is  levying  .  .  .  She  hath.' — Malone  :  That  is,  which  two 
persons  now  are  levying,  etc. 


204 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  III,  sc.  vi. 


Bochus  the  King  of  Lybia,  Archilaus 

Of  Cappadocia,  Philadelphos  King 

Of  Paphlagonia  :  the  Thracian  King  AduUaSy 

King  Matichus  of  Arabia,  King  of  Pont, 

Herod  of  lewry,  Mithridates  King 

Of  Comageat,  Polemen  and  AmintaSy 

The  Kings  of  Mede,  and  Licoania, 

With  a  more  larger  Lift  of  Scepters. 

061a.    Aye  me  moft  wretched. 
That  haue  my  heart  parted  betwixt  two  Friends, 
That  does  af  (lift  each  other.  (breaking  forth 

Ci?/IWelcom  hither  :  your  Letters  did  with-holde  our 
Till  we  perceiuM  both  how  you  were  wrong  led. 
And  we  in  negligent  danger  :  cheere  your  heart. 


76 


80 


85 


89 


76-82.  Lybia  ...  Licoania^  Libya;  ... 
Capp€ulocia  / . . .  Paphlagonia  ; . .  ,Adallas  ; 
„.  Arabia  ;..,Medes  ;.,,Jmury  ;,,. Coma- 
gene  / . . .  Lycaonia  ;  Cap. 

76.  Bochus]  Bocchtu  Theob. 
Archilaus]  Archelaus  Theob. 

78.  Adullas]  Adallas  Rowe. 

79.  Mauchus]  MaHchus  Rowe.  Mai- 
chus  Theob. 

King^  the  King  Ktly. 
81.  Comageat'\  Comagene'Rome.  Com- 
ageni  Ktly. 

Polemen]  Polemon  Theob. 
Amintas]    Amyntas    Dyce,   Sta. 
Glo.  Cam. 

82,83.  7:i^...W^;4fl]  One  line,  Steev. 
Varr.  Sing.  Dyce. 


82.  The  ,,.  Licoania\  Of  Lycaonia; 
and  the  JCing  0/  Mede.  Ran. 

Jdngs]  King  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Theob.  Warb. 

Licoania"]  Lycaonia  Ff. 

83.  more']  Om.  Han.  Cap. 

84.  Aye]  Ff.  Ah  Han.  Cap.  Ran. 
Stecv.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Ktly.  Ay  Rowe 
et  cet. 

86.  does]  doe  Ff. 

87.  fVe/com  hither]  Separate  line,  F^ 
et  seq. 

88.  perceiiid]perceivedCap.VtiT,  *yS, 
'85,  Ran.  Coll.  ii,  Sta.  Ktly,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

wrong  led]  wronged  Cap.  Sta. 
Dyce  ii,  iii.  wrongedWsx.  '73,  Ran.  Sing. 
Coll.  (MS),  Ktly.     be-wronged  Dtn. 


7^-82.  In  comparing  this  list  with  Plutarch  (see  Appendix)  Upton  (p.  238) 
detected  certain  discrepancies  which  he  obviated  by  omitting  *  King  of  Pont,'  in  line 
79  (Polemen,  in  line  81,  is  the  King  of  Pont) ;  and  by  reading  lines  81, 82  <  Amintas 
of  Lycaonia  ;  and  the  king  of  Mede.'  Whereby  the  two  lists  harmonise.  Capbll 
attained  the  same  result  more  simply,  perhaps,  by  reading  *  King  of  Afedes*  (Mede^ 
Heath  conj.)  in  line  79,  and  in  line  82,  *  The  Kings  of  Pont  and  Lycaonia,' — a  con- 
jecture of  Heath.  Johnson  remarked,  however,  that  <  it  is  probable  that  the  author 
did  not  much  wish  to  be  accurate.'  Dyce  justly  observes  that  the  old  text  is  doubt- 
less what  the  author  wrote. 

79.  King  of  Pont]  Keightley  reads  *  the  King  of  Pont '  and  suggests  {Exp. 
316)  the  probability  that  *  a  proper  name  has  been  lost.' 

83.  more  larger]  For  double  comparatives,  see  Abbott,  §11. 

89.  negligent  danger]  Capell  (i*  39) :  That  is,  in  danger  from  negligence. — 
Deuxts  :   Shakespeare  frequently  uses  adjectives  combining  both  an  active  and  a 


ACT  in,  sc.  vi.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  205 

Be  you  not  troubled  with  the  time,  which  driues  90 

(yre  your  content,  thefe  ftrong  neceflides, 

But  let  determin'd  things  to  deflinie 

Hold  vnbewaylM  their  way.     Welcome  to  Rome, 

Nothing  more  deere  to  me :  You  are  abusM 

Beyond  the  marke  of  thought  :  and  the  high  Gods  95 

To  do  you  luftice,  makes  his  Minifters 

Of  vs,  and  thofe  that  loue  you.     Beft  of  comfort,  97 

91.  content^  ^^/^l  t*f*^f*>^  ^^^^  Pope.         Dyce  i,  Wh.  Hal.     maki  them  dp.  et 
mceJfUUs^     necessitus ;    Theob.         cet 

Waib.  et  seq.  97.  Befi]   Be  Rowe,+,  Cap.  Varr. 

95.  Gods]  GodYHXj,  Ran. 

96.  makes  kis]  KUy.  make  kis  Ff,  ^-o^^/W,]  Ff,  Rowe,+,  Rife,  com- 
Rowe,  Pope,  CoU.  i.    make  (heir  Theob.  fart;  Cap.  et  cet 

Han.  Waib.  Johns.  Varr.  Ran.  Knt,  Sing. 

passive  sense ;  compare  '  ignorant  present' — Macb,  I,  ▼,  58,  and  <  ignorant  conceal- 
ment,* Wint,  TeUe,  I,  ii,  397. 

92,  93.  determin'd  things  to  destinie  Hold,  etc.]  Deighton  :  Let  things  that 
are  fitted  go  on  their  way  to  destiny  without  your  mourning  them.  It  is  possible,  how- 
ever, that  the  construction  may  be  '  things  determined  to  destiny,'  t.  e.,  on  which 
destiny  has  resoWed. — [The  latter  construction  is,  I  think,  to  be  preferred. — Ed.] 

95,  96.  the  high  Gods  .  .  .  makes  his  Ministers]  Theobald  :  Why  must 
Shakespeare  be  guilty  of  such  an  obvious  false  concord  ?  He  has  not  writ  thus  in  a 
parallel  passage, — '  Macbeth  Is  ripe  for  shaking,  and  the  Pow'rs  above  Put  on  their 
Instruments.' — IV,  iii,  237. — Knight  :  Here  is  a  false  concord  ;  and  to  correct  it  we 
ought  to  read  make  their.  But  the  modem  editors  read  make  them^  which  is  a  devi- 
ation from  the  principle  upon  which  a  correction  can  be  authorised. — [Which  I  do  not 
quite  understand.  Is  the  '  principle '  well  founded  which  holds  make  their  a  legiti- 
mate correction,  and  make  them  an  illegitimate? — Ed.] — Collier  (ed.  i)  :  'His' 
refers  to  '  justice'  and  not  to  the  '  gods.'  The  sense,  therefore,  is,  that  the  gods,  in 
order  to  right  Octavia,  make  ministers  of  justice  of  Caesar  and  of  those  that  love 
Octavia. — Singer  :  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  with  [Collier]  that  the  reference  is 
to  justice,  which  is  not  here  personified,  and,  had  it  been,  his  would  have  been 
inapplicable. — Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  We  were  disposed  formerly  to  retain  his  upon  the 
mpposition  that  it  might  agree  with  justice.  We  now  think  that  Singer  is  warranted 
in  the  blame  be  imputes  to  us  for  so  doing,  and  we  amend  the  text,  although  not 
exactly  in  his  way.  It  seems  not  impossible  that  originally  '  gods '  was  in  the  sing- 
alar,  and  in  that  case  makes  and  his  would  be  correct. — [Capell's  emendation,  them 
(an  ethical  dative),  seems  to  me  more  Shakespearian  than  any  other  emendation 
that  has  been  proposed.     Possibly  it  is  to  this  that  Knight  objected. — Ed.] 

97.  Best  of  comfort,]  Malone  :  Thus  the  original  copy.  The  connecting  par- 
ticle, emdf  seems  to  favour  the  old  reading.  According  to  the  modem  innovation, 
'  Be  of  comfort,'  it  stands  very  awkwardly.  *•  Best  of  comfort '  may  mean — '  Thou 
best  of  comforters ! '  Compare  The  Tempest :  *  A  solemn  air,  and  the  best  comforter 
To  an  unsettled  fancy's  cure  ! ' — V,  i,  58.  Caesar,  however,  may  mean,  that  what  he 
bad  just  mentioned  is  the  best  kind  of  comfort  that  Octavia  can  receive. — Stkevkns  : 


206  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  in.  sc.  vL 

And  euer  welcom  to  vs.  Agrip.    Welcome  Lady.  98 

Mec.    Welcome  deere  Madam, 

Each  heart  in  Rome  does  loue  and  pitty  you,  100 

Onely  th'adulterous  Anthony^  mod  large 

In  his  abhominations,  tumes  you  ofl^ 

And  giues  his  potent  Regiment  to  a  Trull 

That  noyfes  it  againfl  vs. 

0£la.     Is  it  fo  fir  f  105 

C(Bf*     Moft  certaine  :  Sifter  welcome  :  pray  you 

loi.  M']  Ff,  Rowe,+,  Wh.  Dycc  ii,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  noifes  FjF^  et  cet 
iii.    the  Cap.  et  cet.  106.  Mo/(\  It  is  most  Pope,  + . 

102.  abhomiruUi<ms'\    F^F^.      abomi-  pray  you]  Pray  you,  new  Cap. 

nations  F^.  Words. 

104.  Hcy/es']  F,.     noses  Rowe,  Pope, 

This  elliptical  phrase,  I  believe,  only  signifies — '  May  the  best  of  comfort  be  3roiir5 ! ' 
— Deighton  :  These  words  seem  to  me  to  go  rather  with  the  following  words  and 
to  mean,  *  My  best  comforter,  *  *  my  greatest  comfort.' — [If  the  punctaation  of  the 
Folio  had  only  been  followed,  and  the  conmia  retained  after  '  comfort,'  I  think  there 
would  have  been  scarcely  any  interpretation  of  the  phrase  other  than  Deighton* s. 
Malone  had  an  inkling  of  this  when  he  said  that  <  *'  and  **  stands  very  awkwardly,' 
and  gave  *  Thou  best  of  comforters '  as  a  paraphrase.  The  fatal  twist  was  given  by 
Capell's  unfortunate  semi-colon,  which  has  been  followed  by  every  editor  except 
Rolfe,  who,  however,  adopts  Steevens's  signification,  made  under  the  malign  influ- 
ence of  the  semi-colon. — Ed.] 

102.  abhominations]  Ellis  (p.  220)  :  This  was  a  common  orthography  in  the 
XVI  th  century,  and  the  A  seems  to  have  been  occasionally  pronounced  or  not  pro- 
nounced. There  was  no  A  in  the  Latin,  although  in  the  Latin  of  that  time  k  was 
used,  as  we  see  from  the  Prompt orium^  1450,  '  Abhominable^  abhominabilis,  abAcmi- 
naeyoHf  abhominado '  and  Levins,  1570,  *  abAominate,  abhominari,'  as  if  the  words 
referred  to  ab-homine  instead  of  ab-omine, — [See  Lov^s  Lab.  Lost,  V,  i,  26,  of  this 
edition,  where  this  note  is  also  given.] 

103.  potent  Regiment  to  a  Trull]  Johnson  :  *  Regiment,'  is  government,  att- 
thority  ;  he  puts  his  power  and  his  empire  into  the  hands  of  a  false  woman.  It  may 
be  observed,  that  <  trull '  was  not,  in  our  author's  time,  a  term  of  mere  infamy,  but 
a  word  of  slight  contempt,  as  wench  is  now. — Malone  :  *  Trull '  is  used  in  /  Henry 

VI:  II,  ii,  28  as  synonymous  to  harlot.  There  can  therefore  be  no  doubt  of  the 
sense  in  which  it  is  used  here. 

104.  That  noyses  it]  Steevens  :  Milton  has  adopted  this  uncommon  verb  in  his 
Paradise  Regained;  'though  noising  loud  And  threat' ning  nigh,'  iv,  488. — [It  is 
not  the  verb  itself  which  is  so  '  uncommon '  (it  occurs  elsewhere  in  Shakespeare, 
and  several  times  in  the  New  Testament"),  but  it  is  its  present  sense  which  is  so 
unusual,  conve3ring,  as  it  does,  the  idea  of  loud-voiced  and  turbulent  opposition.  I 
think  that  Steevens  might  have  cast,  not  unprofitably,  a  side-glance  on  the  verb,  more 
than  'uncommon,'  which  Rowe,  Pope,  Theobald,  Hanmer,  and  Warburton  accepted 
as  the  true  one  in  this  passage  (see  Text,  Notes),  imparting,  as  it  does,  a  novel  mnd 
coquettish  charm  to  the  infinite  variety  already  ascribed  to  Qeopatra. — EIo.] 


iCT  m,  9C.  Ti.]    ASTHOXY  AXD   CLEOPA  TRA  307 

Be  ener  kiMiwiie  to  patience.     My  dccr^ft  Sifter.  ExnaU        107 

\Scene  VII\ 


Oio.    I  will  be  eocn  with  tbce,  doubt  it  not. 
Emo.    But  why,  why,  why  ? 

Qeo.    Tboo  haft  ibrefpoke  my  being  in  thefe  wanes. 
And  (a/ft  it  it  not  fit. 
Em0.    Well  :  is  ityis  iL 
Cleo.    If  not,  denounc'd  againft  vs,  why  (hould  not 


107.  dtef'jr\¥^    /n«r>r FjF^Rowc,         ttgetJk^r^ ... iemr ... kane.  Han.  Qa^  et 
•^t  Sing.  DfOCy  Sa.  do.  Cam.    dewrat 


ViL '73  ct  ccf.  T.  If  m^  ...  rr,]    Ft      /it  mti  Jt- 

Scene  VL  Rove, -r.   Scsene  VIL  Cap.         nemmcd  rngmmst    us  f  Rowe,  +  ,    Cap. 


ttieq.    Act  IIL  Sc  L  Kemble.  ('gaiMst).   Varr.   Ran.    Hodi.  Joker, 

Actimn.  Rowe.    Near  the  Promoo-  Rife.     ///  uct/  Demmmce  mffouui  ms^ 

teyofActmnLTheob.  Antooj's  Camp.  Tynrfaitt,  Steer.  Var.'oj,  '13.     J^  mat^ 

Ci{^  dmcmiue  V  agamst  kj,  Mai.  Wh.  i,  S 


5.  «f  if]  F^  conj.     If  tkefrt  demaaaued  a^atmst  ms 

6.  uiL]ititr¥t  Words.     If  net  dautmcd  mgmmsi  ms^ 
7-II.  If  mai..Jds  Jfftrfe]  Piose,  Ff,  Var.'ii  et  ceL  (subs.) 

Rove,+.     Lines  end,  we ...  repfy ;  .., 

I0$-I07.  Is  It  so  . .  .  deer'st  Sister]  Walker  ( Crit.  iii,  303)  :  Arrange,  per* 
^s« — ^  Is  it  so,  sir?  Most  certain.  Sister,  welcome !  |  Pray  joo,  be  ever  known  to 
pitience : —  |  My  dearest  sister ! ' — [For  another  scansion  of  these  lines  (solely  for 
^  eye),  see  Abbott,  §  510.] 

4.  forespoke]  Johhson  :  To  forspeak  is  to  cotUradict,  to  speaJk  offotMs/,  as  /or^ 
M/  is  to  order  negatirely. — Bbadixt  {M  E.  D.  s.  v.  For^)eak,  f  3)  :  To  speak 
agnnst,  speak  eiril  of.     [The  present  line  quoted.] 

7.  If  not,  denounc'd  against  vs]  Tyrwhitt's  emendation,  adopted  by  Steerens, 

win  be  foond  in  the  Text.  Azotes.    M alone,  in  1790,  read,  *  If  not,  denounce  V  against 

itt»'  but  remarked,  •  I  am  not,  however,  sure  that  the  old  reading  is  not  right,  *•  If 

tbere  be  no  particular  denunciation  against  me,  why  should  we  not,"  etc.     There  is, 

nowcrer,  in  the  Folio,  a  comma  after  the  word  **  not "  and  no  point  of  interrogation 

^  Ae  end  of  the  sentence ;  which  favours  the  emendation  now  made.'     In  the  Vari- 

^>mn  of  1821,  Malone  restored  the  text  of  the  Folio,  omitting  the  comma  after  *  not,' 

•dding  an  interrogation  at  the  end,  and   giving   the  foregoing  paraphrase.     The 

^*fher  commentators  and  their  modem  followers  accept  *  denounce  *  in  the  sense  of 

*piiblidy  arraign,*  or  'censure.*     Monck  Mason,  alone  among  them,  seems  to  have 

Caught  what  is  apparently  its  true  meaning,  namely,  *  proclaim,*  and  referred  it  not  to 

^eopatra  but  to  the  wars.     •  Geopatra  means  to  say,*  he  remarks,  * "  Is  not  the  war 

^wounced  against  us?     Why  should  we  not  then  attend  in  person?**  *     Druus 

•p«a  as  far  as  referring  *  denounce  *  to  the  war,  but  gives  a  different  paraphrase : 

*If  it  b  not  6t,  yet  inasmuch  as  the  war  has  been  proclaimed  against  me,  why  should 

I  not  be  there  in  person  ?  *    Naturally  Schmidt  (Lex.)  adopts  the  view  of  Delius ;  so 


2o8  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  viL 

we  be  there  in  perfon.  8 

Enob.     Well,  I  could  reply  :  if  wee  (hould  feme  with 

Horfe  and  Mares  together,  the  Horfe  were  meerly  loft  :  lo 

the  Mares  would  beare  a  Soldiour  and  his  Horfe. 
Cleo.    What  is't  you  fay  f 
Enob.    Your  prefence  needs  muft  puzle  Anthony^ 

Take  from  his  heart,  take  from  his  Braine,  from's  time, 

What  (hould  not  then  be  fp  ar'd.     He  is  already  1 5 

TraducM  for  Leuity,  and  'tis  (aid  in  Rome, 

That  Photinus  an  Eunuch,  and  your  Maides  17 

8.  per/on.'^  F„  Mai.   per/on  f  Yf^  et        Varr.  Knt,  Ktly. 

cet.  15.  then\  thence  Walker,  Huds. 

9.  Enob.]  Eno.  \Aside,'\  Johns,  etseq.  17.  Photinus  an  Eunuchy'\  ¥(,  Rowe. 
(subs. )                                                                PhoHnus,  an  eunuch,  Del.  Cam.     Fho- 

10.  lofi]  hist  Rowe.  tinus  a  eunuch.  Sing.  Photinus  am 
13-  prefence^  pre/ent  F,.  eunuch  Dyce,  SU.  Glo.  Photinus  a 
14.  from' si  take  from's  F^F^,  Rowe.        eunuch   Ktly.      Pothinus,   am  eunuch, 

from  his  Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.  Steev.        Blumhof. 


also  does  Thiselton,  who  says  that  *  if  not '  is  equivalent  to  '  otherwise.'  SiNGKR 
paraphrases :  <  If  we  are  not  interdicted  by  proclamation,  why  should  we  not  be  theie 
in  person  ? ' ;  and  adds,  <  To  denounce  is  most  frequently  used  for  to  pronounce  or 
proclaim  by  the  poet.'  Hudson  observes  that  the  text  which  he  adopts  (Capell's)  is 
'  approved  by  the  corresponding  passage  in  Plutarch :  *<  Now,  after  that  Caesar  had 
made  sufficient  preparation,  he  proclaimed  open  war  against  Qeopatra,"  etc'  (See 
Appendix, )  Deighton  thus  amends  the  text :  *•  If  now  denounced  against  us,*  etc 
and  has  the  following  note,  '  if  these  wars  are  now  declared  against  me,  why,  etc. 
With  the  Folio  reading,  the  only  sense  possible  would  be,  <*  if  there  is  no  special 
injunction*  against  my  taking  part  in  these  wars,"  etc.;  but,  as  Antony  alone  could 
object,  and  he  shows  no  inclination  to  do  so,  such  sense  seems  very  unsatisfactory.' 
[It  seems  to  me  safest  to  follow  the  Folio  and  to  accept  Delius's  interpretation. 
—Ed.] 

10.  meerly]  Used  in  its  derivative  sense,  wholly,  utterly,  purely. 

15.  What  should  not  then]  Very  plausible  is  Walker's  conjecture  {Crit.  iii, 
303)  of  thence  for  *  then.*  But  *  then  *  so  clearly  refers  to  *  time,'  the  last  idea,  that 
change  seems  uncalled  for. — Ed. 

17.  Photinus  an  Eunuch]  The  name  of  this  eunuch  in  the  original  Greek  is 
*  Pothinus,'  both  here  and  in  the  LifeofCasar.  In  the  latter.  North  has  correctly  repro- 
duced it ;  but  here,  in  the  Life  of  Antonius^  it  is  rendered  Photinus,  The  error  b^an, 
I  think,  with  Amyot ;  in  an  edition  of  his  translation,  printed  in  Paris  as  late  as  i8ii, 
the  name  is  Photinus,  Of  course,  Shakespeare  followed  North,  and  what  the  true  name 
might  be,  he  cared,  probably,  very  little,  and  we,  assuredly,  care  still  less.  Whatever 
his  name,  Photinus  or  Pothinus,  he  ought  to  be  dead  ;  Julius  Caesar  put  him  to  death 
some  years  before  the  present  events.  Walker  (  Vers.  173)  calls  attention  to  the  fact 
that  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  False  One  *  the  name  is  everywhere  pronounced  as 
it  is  now,'  that  is,  Photfiias»  with  the  accent  on  the  penult     The  position  of  the 


ACT  III.  sc.  vii.]   ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  209 

Mannage  this  warre.  18 

Cleo.     Sinke  Rome,  and  their  tong  ues  rot 
That  fpeake  againft  vs.     A  Charge  we  beare  iWWarre,  20 

And  as  the  prefident  of  my  Kingdome  will 
Appeare  there  for  a  man.     Speake  not  againft  it, 
I  will  not  ftay  behinde. 

Enter  Anthony  and  Camidias. 

Eno.     Nay  I  haue  done,  here  comes  the  Emperor.  25 

Ant.     Is  it  not  ftrange  Camidius , 
That  from  Tarrentum,  and  Brandufium, 
He  could  fo  quickly  cut  the  Ionian  Sea, 
And  take  in  Troine.     You  haue  heard  on't  (Sweet?  ) 

Cleo.     Celerity  is  neuer  more  admired,  30 

Then  by  the  negligent. 

Ant.     A  good  rebuke,  32 


19.  their\  there  Warb.  26.  Isit'\I^t  Han.  Cap.  Steev.  Varr. 

21.  wi7/]  wUl  I  Pope,  Thcob.  Han.  Coll.  Sing.  Wh.  Hal.  Ktly. 

^arb.  Ktly.  26,  34,  loo.  Camidius]  Ff.    Canidius 

24.  Enter...]  After  line  25,  Cap.  Var.  Rowe. 

•78  et  seq.  27.   Tarrentufn\  Tarentum  Rowe. 

Camidias]   Camidius    Ff.      Can-  Brandufium]  Brundusium  Ff. 

^ius  Rowe.  28.  the]  th'  Rowe  ii,  + ,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

25.  here  .,.  Emperor]  Separate  line,  29.    Troine.]  Toryne,¥^^,    Torynef 
Han.  Cap.  Var.  *2i,  Knt,  Coll.  Dyce.  F^. 

comma  after  *  eunuch  *  has  been  deemed  important ;  on  it  the  number  of  persons 
referred  to  may  be  made  to  depend.  Wordsworth  remarks,  'Dyce  and  other 
editors,  including  even  those  of  the  Globe,  and  Hudson,  all  following  the  careless- 
ness of  the  First  Folio,  point  this  without  a  comma  after  Fhotinus,  and  so  leave 
the  reader  to  suppose  that  he  is  the  eunuch ;  whereas  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
Mardian  is  intended,  as  appears  plain  both  in  Plutarch's  Greek  and  in  North's  trans- 
lation. The  Leopold  edition  prints  the  line  correctly.*  The  Leopold  edition  followed 
Delias.  In  any  circumstances,  I  think  it  is  a  question  of  small  moment,  and  becomes 
even  less  when  we  remember  (which  apparently  Dr  Wordsworth  did  not),  that  Photinus 
u  well  as  Mardian  was  a  eunuch. — Ed. 

23.  I  wiU  not  stay  behinde]  Garnier,  whose  M,  Antoine  was  printed  in  1578, 
represents  jealousy  as  the  cause  of  Cleopatra's  decision  to  *be  in  these  warres.' 
Qeopatra  thus  speaks  to  Eras :  <  Mais,  las !  ie  n'en  fis  conte,  ayant  I'ame  saisie, 
A  mon  tres-grand  malheur  d'ardente  ialousie :  Par-ce  que  ie  craignois  que  mon 
Antoine  absent  Reprint  son  Octauie,  &  m'allast  delaissant' — p.  179,  ed.  1616. 
It  is  thus  translated  by  the  Countess  of  Pembroke,  1592 :  *  But  I  car'd  not :  so 
was  my  soule  possest  (To  my  great  harme),  with  burning  iealousie:  Fearing  least 
m  my  absence  Antony  Should  leaning  me  retake   Octauia.^ — line  463,  ed.  Lace. 

29.  Uke  in  Troine]  That  is,  subdue.     See  I,  i,  35. 


2IO  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  iii.  sc.  vii. 

Which  might  haue  well  becom'd  the  bed  of  men  33 

To  taunt  at  flackneflfe.     CamidiuSj  wee 

Will  fight  with  him  by  Sea.  35 

Cleo.     By  Sea,  what  elfe  ? 

Cam.    Why  will  my  Lord,  do  fo  ? 

Ant.     For  that  he  dares  vs  too*t. 

Enob.    So  hath  my  Lord,  dar'd  him  to  fingle  fight 

Cam.     I,  and  to  wage  this  Battell  at  Pharfalia,  40 

Where  Cafar  fought  with  Pompey.     But  thefe  offers 
Which  feme  not  for  his  vantage,  he  (hakes  off, 
And  fo  fhould  you. 

Enob.     Your  Shippes  are  not  well  mann'd. 
Your  Marriners  are  Militers,  Reapers,  people  45 

33.  beconCd^  beamu  Theob.  ii,  Warb.  38.  tot^f^  t<ft  Ff,  Om.  Han, 
Johns.  Cap.  Coll.  Wh.  Ktly.                               40.  Mm]  his  F^F^,  Rowe. 

34.  at  Jlackfujjl'e\  a  slackness  Yj2m^\\,  42.  ferue]/erves  F^F^. 

ai  slacknesses  Bulloch.  45.  are  Militers']    are  Muliters  Ff, 

Camidios]  Come^  Canidins  Han.  Rowe,  Knt,  Coll.  Wh.  Hal.    are  muH- 

My  Canidius  Cap.  teers  Pope,   Theob,   Warb.     muleteers 

36.  Sea^  Ff,  Rowe,+.  sea;  Cam.  and  Han.  are  muleteers  Johns.  Ktly. 
sea  /  Cap.  et  cet  are  muUters  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  CauL 

33»  34*  Which  might .  .  .  slacknesse]  These  words,  which  express  Anthonjr's 
hearty  assent  to  Qeopatra's  rebuke  by  asserting  that  the  best  of  men  might  have  used 
them  in  upbraiding  sloth,  Blumhof  takes  as  a  peevish  rejoinder  to  Cleopatra's  iiri- 
tating  remark,  and  regards  as  a  separate  sentence  and  as  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
<  To  taunt  at  slackness ! '  '  Slackness '  is  lengthened  into  three  syllables  by  both 
Walker  ( Vers.  20)  and  Abbott  (§  477)  :  •  slack^iess.'  But  would  not  the  pro- 
nunciation be  almost  as  rhythmical,  and  quite  as  slovenly,  were  it  uttered  '  xHack- 
ness?  The  pause  necessitated  by  the  change  of  address  supplies  the  rhythm. 
Walker  finishes  the  line  and  begins  the  next  thus  *  Canidius,  come  We'll  fight,'  etc 
See  Text.  Notes  for  Hanmer's  emendation. — Ed. 

37.  Why  will]  The  accent  is  designedly  thrown  on  *  will.* 

45.  Militers]  Sec  Text.  Notes.— VIalkek  ( Vers.  217) :  Pioneer,  Engineer, 
Muleteer^  and  many  other  (perhaps  most)  words  of  the  same  class,  ought  to  be  writ- 
ten  pioner,  enginer,  etc.  This  is  evident,  were  there  no  other  indication  of  it,  from 
the  flow  of  the  verses  in  which  these  words  occur.  [To  the  instance  in  the  present 
line,  which  Dyce  was  the  first  to  spell  correctly,  Walker  adds,  *  Seignior,  hang !— base 
muleteers  of  France.' — i  Hen.  VI:  III,  ii,  and  continues :]  Even  here  an  Elizabethan 
ear  would,  I  imagine,  have  demanded  muleters ;  and  so  Folio.  So  everywhere  in 
the  writers  of  that  age,  as  far  as  I  have  observed.  Beaumont  &  Fletcher,  Fair  Maid 
of  the  Inn,  II,  iv,  Folio  of  1647,  p.  36,  col.  2, — '  Thou  might'st  have  given  it  to  a 
Muliter,'  etc.  IV,  ii,  init  *  Enter  Host,  Taylor,  Muliter,'  etc.  Loves  Pilgrimage, 
II,  iv,  near  the  beginning, — *  No  mangey  Muleters,  nor  pinching  Posts.' — [Dyce  has 
a  note  to  the  same  effect.  Both  Walker  and  Dyce  seem  to  have  overlooked  a  note 
of  Malone,  which  calls  attention  to  the  spelling  of  this  word  in  the  corresponding 


ACTIU,  s&YiL]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  211 

Ingroft  by  fwift  Imprefle.     In  Ca/ars  Fleete^  46 

Are  thofe  ^  that  often  haue  'gainft  Pompey  fought. 

Their  (hippes  are  yare,  yours  heauy  :  no  difgrace 

Shall  fall  you  for  refufmg  him  at  Sea, 

Being  prepared  for  Land.  50 

AnU     By  Sea,  by  Sea. 

Eno.     Mod  worthy  Sir,  you  therein  throw  away 
The  abfolute  Soldierihip  you  haue  by  Land, 
Diftraft  your  Armie,  which  doth  mod  confift 
Of  Warre-markt-footmen,  leaue  vnexecuted  55 

Your  owne  renowned  knowledge,  quite  forgoe 
The  way  which  promifes  aflTurance,  and 
Giue  vp  your  felfe  meerly  to  chance  and  hazard, 
From  firme  Securitie. 

Ant.     He  fight  at  Sea.  60 

Cleo.     I  haue  fixty  Sailes,  Cafar  none  better. 

47.  *gainfi\  against  Warb.  61.  fixty  SaUes\  fidl  sixty  sail  Sey- 
49.  Shall '\  Can  Cap.                                   moor.    fuU  sixty  sails  Huds. 

/all'\  */all  Han.  Cap.  (Errata.)  nom  better.l    none  better  hath, 

55.  IVarre-markt-faotmen^T ff'Ro^t'i,         Ktly. 
war-mark^ d footmen  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 

passage  in  North's  Piutarch  :  'for  lacke  of  water-menne,  his  Captaines  did  prest  by 
force  all  sortes  of  men  . .  .  that  they  could  take  vp  in  the  field,  as  trauellers,  muliters, 
reapers,  hamest  men,  and  young  boyes.*  In  the  ed.  of  1595,  the  word  is  spelled 
*  muletteis.' — Ed.] 

46.  Impresse]  See  'prest'  in  the  extract  from  North  in  the  preceding  note. — 
Skeat  {Concise  EtymoL  Diet.) :  *  Press '  is  a  corruption  of  the  old  word  /r«/,  ready ; 
whexict  prest-mcney^  ready  money  advanced  to  a  man  hired  for  service,  earnest  money ; 
also  imprest f  a  verb  (now  impress) ,  to  give  a  man  earnest  money.  When  it  became 
oomimon  to  use  compulsion  to  force  men  into  service,  it  was  confused  with  the  verb 
to  press.  Prest  money  was  money  lent,  derived  from  Old  French  prester  (French 
^^rtter)  to  lend,  advance  money. 

48.  yarc]  Steevens  :  So  in  North's  Plutarch  :  *  Caesar's  ships  were  not  built  for 
pomp,  high  and  great,  .  .  .  but  they  were  light  of  yarage.'  '  Yare'  generally  sig- 
nifies, dextrous,  manageable, 

49.  Shall  fall  you]  That  is,  befall  you.  For  other  words  where  prefixes  are 
dropped,  see  Abbott,  §  460. 

54.  Distradt  your  Armie]  In  North's  Plutarch,  Canidius  tells  Antony,  among 
other  things,  that  he  *  would  weaken  his  army  by  dividing  them  into  ships.*  Possi- 
\>ly  this  explains  the  present  phrase. 

61.  I  haue]  Hanmer  reads,  *  Why,  I  have,' — '  a  very  probable  emendation,'  sajrs 
Dtce  (ed.  ii).  It  is  one  of  several  designed  to  mend  the  metre,  which  is  defective 
according  to  the  right  butter- woman's  rank  to  market.  Any  deviation  from  the 
orthodox  jog-trot  deeply  offends  the  truly  sensitive  ear.    Nay,  in  cases  where  a  final 


i 


212  THE   TRACE  DIE   OF  [ACT  ill.  SC.  vii. 

AnL     Our  ouer-plus  of  (hipping  will  we  bume^  62 

And  with  the  reft  full  mann'd,  from  th'head  of  Aftion 
Beate  th'approaching  Cae/ar.     But  if  we  6ule, 
We  then  can  doo't  at  Land.  Enter  a  Mejfenger.  65 

Thy  Bufmeffe  ? 

Mef.     The  Newes  is  true,  my  Lord,  he  is  defcried, 
Cafar  ha's  taken  Toryne. 

Ant^     Can  he  be  there  in  perfon?  Tis  impoifible 
Strange,  that  his  power  fhould  be.     Camidius^  70 

Our  nineteene  Legions  thou  (halt  hold  by  Land, 
And  our  twelue  thoufand  Horfe.     Wee'l  to  our  Ship, 
Away  my  Thetis. 

Enter  a  Soldiaur. 
How  now  worthy  Souldier?  75 

Soul.     Oh  Noble  Emperor,  do  not  fight  by  Sea, 
Truft  not  to  rotten  plankes  :  Do  you  mifdoubt 
This  Sword,  and  thefe  my  Wounds  ;  let  th'Egyptians 
And  the  Phoenicians  go  a  ducking  :  wee 

Haue  vsM  to  conquer  ftanding  on  the  earth,  80 

And  fighting  foot  to  foot. 

Ant.     Well,  well,  away.  exit  Ant.  Cleo.&  Enob .  82 

62.  Our\  Come  :  Our  Cap.     (  Come  :  Theob.  Warb.  Johns, 

closes  line  61.)  71.  nineteene']  nineteenes  F,. 

6^,  fullmann'd'lfuIl-fnanh'dKG^t.  74.  Soldioor.]    Messenger.    Rowe  L 

M']  the  Cap.  et  seq.  Diomede.   Gar.      Titius  and  Soldiers. 

head  of  Aiflion]  heart  of  Actium  Kemble. 

Ff,  Rowe.    head  of  Actium  Fope  ei  seq.  78.  fVounds;"]  wounds?  Rowe  u  et 

64.  M*]  the  Theob.  et  seq.  seq. 

But]  Om.  Han.  M']  the  Theob.  et  seq. 

65.  doo't]  ddt  FjF^.  79-  ^  ducking]  aducking  Dyce,  Sta. 
67.  def cried,]  descried;  Theob.  et  seq.         Glo.  Cam. 

69,  70.  impojfible  Strange,  ]  impossible.  82.  well^  well. —  Coll.  well: —  Dyce, 
Strange  Pope  et  seq.                                         Glo.  Cam. 

70.  be.]  befo,  Ff.    be  so.  Rowe,  Pope,  exit]  Exeunt.  Ff. 


-er  must  represent  a  full  foot  (as  here),  Abbott  (§  478)  opines  that  it  may  <liaTe 
been  sometimes  pronounced  with  a  kind  of  <*burr/'  which  produced  the  effect  of  an 
additional  syllable.'  Inasmuch  as  Cleopatra's  variety  was  infinite,  it  is  possible  that 
a  '  burr '  may  have  been  one  of  her  charms. 

73.  my  Thetis]  Steevens  :  Antony  may  address  Qeopatra  by  the  name  of  this 
sea-nymph,  because  she  had  just  promised  him  assistance  in  his  naval  expedition  ;  or 
perhaps  in  allusion  to  her  voyage  down  the  Cydnus,  when  she  appeared  like  Thetis 
surrounded  by  the  Nereids.  [It  was  not  Thetis,  but  Venus,  to  whom  Enobaibus  then 
compared  Cleopatra. — See  II,  ii,  235.] 

76,  etc.  See  Plutarch,  Appendix, 


ACT  III.  sc.  vii.]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  213 

Soul.     By  Hercules  I  thinke  I  am  i'th'righL  83 

Cam.     Souldier  thou  art :  but  his  whole  aflion  growes 
Not  in  the  power  on't  :  fo  our  Leaders  leade,  85 

And  we  are  Womens  men. 

Saul.     You  keepe  by  Land  the  Legions  and  the  Horfe 
whole^  do  you  not  ? 

Ven.     Marcus  OilauiuSy  Marcus  luJleuSy 
Publicolay  and  Celius,  are  for  Sea  :  90 

But  we  keepe  whole  by  Land.     This  fpeede  of  Ca/ars 
Carries  beyond  beleefe.  92 

83.  right'\  light  Y^,  87.  Kw...Z<iik/]  Separate  line,  Rowe 

84.  his]  the  Ff,  Rowe.     this  Cap.  et  seq. 

85.  fo]  sOy  or  sOy —  Nicholson  ap.  Cam.  89.  Yen.]  Ff,  Rowe.  Can.  Pope  et  seq. 
Leaders  le€uie'\  F,.    Leaders  lead  lulleus]  Juflius  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope. 

FjF^,  Rowe,  Pope,     leader' i  led  Theob.         Justeius  Theob. 

et  seq.  90.  Celius]  Qelius  Theob. 

84,  85.  his  whole  action  growes  Not  in  the  power  on't]  Caprll  (i,  39)  : 
'  Action '  is  here  enterpriuy  the  enterprixe  then  in  hand ;  no  part  of  which,  says 
Canidios,  *  grows  in  the  power  on't,'  is  conducted  as  it  might  be,  or  suitably  to  the 
means  that  we  have  in  our  power. — [Capell  refers  *  on't '  to  *  action.'  Dr  Johnson, 
on  the  other  hand,  refers  it  to  *  right '  in  the  Soldier's  speech.  <  That  is,'  he  says, 
'his  whole  conduct  becomes  ungovemed  by  the  right,  or  by  reason.'  Malone  gives 
what  is  essentially  Capell's  interpretation  and  points  out  Johnson's  oversight  <  I 
think,'  he  observes,  <  that  Canidius  means  to  say,  His  whole  conduct  in  the  war  is 
not  founded  upon  that  which  is  his  greatest  strength  (namely,  his  landforce\  but  on 
the  caprice  of  a  woman,  who  wishes  that  he  should  fight  by  sea.  Dr  Johnson  refers 
the  word  onU  to  right  in  the  preceding  speech.  I  apprehend,  it  refers  to  actum  in 
the  speech  before  us.'  Hudson  says  that  *  This  speech  may  refer,  not  merely  to  the 
present  action,  but  Antony's  whole  course  of  late,  where  his  action  grows,  takes  its 
shape,  not  from  the  power  that  executes  it,  that  is,  himself,  but  from  the  will  of 
another.'  The  phrase  is  certainly  obscure.  Possibly,  it  may  mean  that  Anthony's 
course  of  action  docs  not  grow  through  its  own  native  force,  there  are  other  influences 
at  work — his  deeds  are  not  self-evolved. — Ed.] 

85.  so  our  Leaders  leade]  Theobald's  change,  'our  leader's  led,'  which  has 
been  adopted  by  every  subsequent  editor,  is  pronounced  needless  by  Thiselton 
(p.  19),  and,  I  cannot  but  think,  justly.  If  Cleopatra  is  herself  a  Leader,  her  power 
is  more  direct,  and  the  soldiers  are  more  emphatically  her  men,  than  if  this  power 
were  exercised  only  indirectly  through  Anthony.  Moreover,  by  the  plural,  *  women,' 
there  is  an  implication  that  even  Anthony  himself  has  lost  his  manliness  and  is  become 
a  woman,  which  is  missed  if  *  Leader  *  be  restricted  to  Anthony  alone. — Ed. 

89.  Ven.]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  conjectured  that  this  abbreviation  stood  '  perhaps  for 
Vennard^  an  actor  in  the  part  of  Canidius.'  Dyce  repeated  this  conjecture  without 
comment. — Walker  (Crit.  ii,  185)  says  that  the  speech  'is  given  to  Ventidius 
mstead  of  to  Canidius.' 

91, 92.  This  speede  .  .  .  Carries  beyond  beleefe]  An  uncommon  use  of  the  verb. 


214  ^^^   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  iu,  sc  viL 

Soul.    While  he  was  yet  in  Rome.  93 

His  power  went  out  in  fuch  diftra£)ions, 
As  beguilde  all  Spies.  oj 

Cam.    Who's  his  Lieutenant,  heare  you  ? 

Soul.    They  fay,  one  Toivrus. 

Cam.    Well,  I  know  the  man. 

Enter  a  Mejfenger. 

Me/.    The  Emperor  cals  Camidius.  lOO 

Cam.    With  Newes  the  times  with  Labour, 
And  throwes  forth  each  miiiute,  fome.  exeunt        102 

93.  kt  ttw]  Om.  Han.  loi.  vnth]  mRowe,  +  ,  Var.  '73,  Cap. 

95.  beguilde  all  Sfdes\  Separate  line,         (in  Notes)^  Gar. 

Ptopc  et  seq.  (except  Knt.)  WUk  ...  times\    Separate    line, 

96.  Lieutenant^  Lieutenat  F^.  Ktly. 

97.  Townis]     Torus    Rowe,    Pope.  102.  threwes]   F,Fj.     throes  Theofa^ 
Taurus  Theob.  Var.  '73,  Steer.  Knt,  Sing.  Dyce,  Sta. 

98.  HTeU.I  Ff,  Rowe  i,  Knt.     WeU;  Glo.  Cam.     throws  F^  et  cet. 

Johns.     WeU  Rowe  ii  et  cet  each^./ome"]  Separate  line,  Rowe 

100.  caU]  calls  for  Han.  et  seq. 

loi.  times']  tim^s  Ff. 

carry ^  of  which  I  can  find  no  notice  in  the  N.  E,  D.  Steevens  suggested  that  <  per- 
haps' it  is  derived  *from  archery,'  and  quoted  2  Hen,  IV:  HI,  ii,  52,  *a*  would 
have  .  .  .  carried  you  a  forehand  shaft  a  fourteen  and  fourteen  and  a  half.'  Singei. 
without  even  hinting  at  the  singularity  of  the  phrase,  gives  a  paraphrase,  obvious  to 
the  humblest  capacity,  <  t.  e,  passes  all  belief  and  then  remarks,  <  I  should  not  have 
noticed  this,  but  for  Steevens's  odd  notion  of  its  being  a  phrase  from  archery.' 
Schmidt  {^Lex.  s.v.  Carry,  4)  quotes  the  present  passage  and  Justice  ShaUow's 
speech  quoted  above  by  Steevens,  and  defines  both  by  '  to  bear,  to  push  on  to  a  cer- 
tain distance,'  which  is  somewhat  difficult  of  comprehension.  It  is  not  easy  to  see 
how  anything  that  carries  can  thereby  *  push.'  Deighton  and  Rolfe,  braving 
Singer's  scoff,  return  to  Steevens's  suggestion  and  hold  that  the  metaphor  is  probably 
taken  from  archery,  which  is  also  the  opinion  of  the  present  Ed. 

94.  distra^ons]  Johnson  :  Detachments,  separate  bodies. 

102.  throwes  forth]  According  to  Theobald's  spelling,  this  veib  occurs  again  in 
The  Tempest^  II,  i,  231. 


ACT  III,  sc.  viii.]  ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


215 


\Scene  yill] 

Enter  Cafar  wiih  his  Army^  marching. 

Caf.     ToTJurus? 

Tow.     My  Lord. 

Caf.     Strike  not  by  Land, 
Keepe  whole,  prouoke  not  Battaile 
Till  we  haue  done  at  Sea.     Do  not  excecde 
The  Prefcript  of  this  Scroule  2  Our  fortune  lyes 
Vpon  this  iumpe. 


extt. 


8 


[Scene  IX.] 

Enter  Anthony ^and  Enobarbus. 
Ant.     Set  we  our  Squadrons  on  yond  fide  o'th'Hill, 
In  eye  of  CcBfars  battaile,  from  which  place 


Scene  VIII.  dp.  et  seq. 
The    same.    Plain    between    both 
Camps.  Cap. 

1.  Enter...]  Enter  Oesar,  Taurus, 
Officers,  and  others.  Cap. 

2.  Towrus?]  Ff.  Torus?  Rowe. 
Taurus?  Theob.  Taurus^ —  Cap. 
Steey.  Van*.  Sing.  Dyce. 

3.  Lord.'\  lord?  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam. 
4--S.  Strike. ».iumpe\  Lines  end,  ze/^o/f, 

• . .  Sea. . . .  Scroule  :  ...  iumpe.  Steer.  Varr. 


Knt,  Coll.  Sta.  Ktly. 

7.  this  Scroule"]  this  scroll  [Giving  it 
CoU.  '53. 

Scene  IX.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Huds. 
Rife,  Dtn,  Words.  The  rest  continue 
the  Scene. 

Another  part  of  the  plain.  Dyce. 

2.  Squadrons']  squdrons  Rowe  i. 
yond]    Ff,    Rowe,  +  ,    Dyce,   Sta. 
Glo.  Cam.    yon^  Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Ran. 
Steev.    yon  Knt.    yond"^  Coll.  Wh.  i. 


I.  Bradley  (p.  71)  :  To  come  then  to  real  defects : — one  may  be  found  in  places 
where  Shakespeare  strings  together  a  number  of  scenes,  some  very  short,  in  which 
the  dramatis  persona  are  frequently  changed ;  as  though  a  novelist  were  to  tell  his 
story  in  a  succession  of  short  chapters,  in  which  he  flitted  from  one  group  of  his 
characters  to  another.  This  method  shows  itself  here  and  there  in  the  pure  tragedies 
{^e.g.  in  the  last  act  of  Macbeth)^  but  it  appears  most  decidedly  where  the  historical 
material  was  undramatic,  as  in  the  middle  part  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra.  It  was 
made  possible  by  the  absence  of  scenery,  and  doubtless  Shakespeare  used  it  because 
it  was  the  easiest  way  out  of  a  difficulty.  But,  considered  abstractedly,  it  is  a  defec- 
tive method,  and,  even  as  used  by  Shakespeare,  it  sometimes  reminds  us  of  the 
merely  narrative  arrangement  common  in  plays  before  his  time. 

8,  iumpe]  Murray  (A^.  E.  D.  s.  v.  f  6)  :  The  decisive  moment  of  plunging 
into  action  of  doubtful  issue ;  dangerous  critical  moment,  critical  point,  crisis.  (Latin, 
discrimen, )  The  notion  is  evidently  that  of  making  a  jump  or  taking  a  plunge  into 
the  unknown  or  untried. 

3.  bftttaile]  Murray  (iV.  E.  D.  s.  v.S):  A  body  or  line  of  troops  in  battle  array, 
whether  composing  an  entire  army,  or  one  of  its  main  divisions.  '  What  may  the 
whole  Battaile  reach  vnto?'— /  Ifen.  IV:  IV,  i,  129. 


2l6  THE   TR AGED  IE  OF  [act  m.  sc,  x. 

We  may  the  number  of  the  Ships  behold, 

And  fo  proceed  accordingly.  exit.  5 

\Scene  X\ 

Camidius  Marcheth  with  his  Land  Army  one  way  auer  the 
JlagCj  and  Towrus  the  Lieutenant  ofCcefar  the  other  way  : 
After  their  going  in^  is  heard  the  noife  of  a  Sea  fight. 
Alarum.         Enter  Enobarbus  and  Scarus. 

Eno.  Naught,  naught,  al  naught,  I  can  behold  no  longer:  5 

Thantoniadj  the  Egyptian  Admirall, 
With  all  their  fixty  flye,  and  tume  the  Rudder  : 
To  fee't,  mine  eyes  are  blafted.  8 

Scene  X.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Scene  4.  and  Scams]  Om.  Rowe  ii  el  seq. 

VII.  Pope,-!-.    Cap.  ct  cet.  continue  the  5.  a/]  F,. 

Scene.  naughi^'\   Ff,   Rowe,+.     namgkt. 

I.  CamidiuSy     etc.]     Cantdius^    etc.  Johns,    n/zif^i^ /  Cap.  et  seq. 

Rowe.  6.  Thantoniad]  Ff,  Rowe.      Tk^An- 

Marcheth]  Marching  Ff,  Rowe  et  tonias  Pope,  +  .     The  Antmiad  Cap.  et 

seq.  seq. 

Land  Army]  land-anny  Thcob.  7.  flye^and  tume\  flies  and  tum$l\9xu 

3.  the  noise  of  a  Sea  fight]  Our  ignorance  of  the  kind  of  noise  which  accom- 
panied sea-fights,  and  enabled  an  audience  to  distinguish  it,  when  heard  behind  the 
scene,  from  that  of  a  land-Bght,  is  to  be  regretted.  It  may  be  that  there  were  Todferoos 
commands  to  the  rowers  and  the  sound  of  crashing  boards  ;  but  see  IV,  xii,  I. — Ed. 

6.  Thantoniad]  *The  Admiral  galley  of  Cleopatra^  was  called  Antoniade.' — 
North's  Plutarch  (see  Appendix),  ['Thantoniad'  betrays  the  ear  of  the  com- 
positor.—Ed.] 

7.  flye,  and  tume  the  Rudder]  Staffer  (p.  405) :  What  had  happened  was 
very  simple ;  it  was  only  that  Cleopatra  had  felt  frightened  :  she  was  not  a  woman 
of  heroic  type,  and  her  nerves  were  not  strong  enough  to  bear  the  excitement  of  a 
battle  for  any  length  of  time, — that  was  the  whole  secret.  Those  who  seek  for  any 
other  explanation  of  the  defeat  at  Actium,  do  so  because  they  start  with  the  notion 
that  on  great  occasions  Cleopatra  could  be  truly  brave,  the  splendid  manner  of  her 
death  having  acquired  for  her  a  false  reputation  for  courage ;  but  her  supposed  hero- 
ism is  only  a  brilliant  theatrical  cloak  wrapped  round  the  most  feminine  little  person, 
presenting  the  most  complete  contrast  to  all  manliness  of  character  that  ever  wore  a 
crown.  We  have  only  to  study  closely  her  ending,  as  it  is  given  by  Shakespeare,  and 
the  mask  falls — the  woman  remains  and  the  heroine  vanishes. — Anatolr  Francs 
(iv,  130)  :  This  flight,  Admiral  Jurien  de  la  Graviire  holds  to  be  a  skilful!  manceuvre 
and  M.  Victorien  Sardou  has  given  to  it  a  highly  dramatic  effect  by  representing  the 
enamoured  queen  as  effecting  thereby  the  defeat  and  disgrace  of  her  lover,  in  order  to 
keep  him  completely  her  own. 


ACT  III,  sc.  X.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA 


217 


Enter  Scarrus. 

Scar.Gods,\&i  Goddeffes,  all  the  whol  fynod  of  them! 

Eno.     What's  thy  paflion. 

Scar.     The  greater  Cantle  of  the  world,  is  loft 
With  very  ignorance,  we  haue  kift  away 
Kingdomes,  and  Prouinces. 

Eno.     How  appeares  the  Fight  ? 

Scar,     On  our  fide,  like  the  Token'd  Peftilence, 
Where  death  is  fure.     Yon  ribaudred  Nagge  of  Egypt, 


10 


IS 


17 


9.  Scamis]  Scams  Ff.  Dionude  Gar. 
Scaurus  Walker. 

10.  Gods,  &•  Goddeffes']  Separate  line, 
Theob.  Warb.  et  seq. 

11.  pajion,]  pajfton  ?  F^F^. 
16-29.  Mnemonic,  Warb. 

17.  Yon. ..Nagge]  Dyce,  Wh.  i,  Sta. 
GIo.  Cam.  Hal.  Ktly,  Del.  iii,  Hunter, 
Marshall,  Rife,  Dtn  (subs. )  You  ribau- 
dred Nagge  F,.     Your  ribaudred  Nagge 


F  .  Your  ribauldred  Nag  F^.  Your 
rtbauld  nag  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Warb. 
Yond  ribauid  nag  Han.  Johns.  Var.  '73 
(subs.)  Yon  ribald  nag  Qk^,  Var. '78, 
'85,  Ran.  Kemble,  Huds.  (subs.)  Yon^ 
ribald-rid  nag  Steev.  conj.  Mai.  Steev. 
Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  i,  Del.  i  (subs.)  Yond^ 
ribald  hag  Tyrwhitt,  Coll.  ii,  iii.  Words. 
Yon  ribaldred  nag  Wh.  ii.  Yon  ribald 
rag  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 


12.  Cantle]  Murray  (N.  E.  D.  s.v.  Mediaeval  Latin,  r/2if/^//«j,  diminutive  of 
cant,  canto,  cantus,  comer.  3  f  c.)  :  A  segment  of  a  circle  or  sphere.  [Present  line 
quoted.] 

16.  the  Token'd  Pestilence]  Steevens:  The  death  of  those  visited  by  the 
plague  was  certain,  when  particular  eruptions  appeared  on  the  skin  ;  and  these  were 
adled  God's  tokens.— Hmjlvn^ia.  (Love's  Lab.  Lost,  V,  ii,  470):  *The  spots 
[indicative  of  the  plague],  otherwise  called  God^s  tokens,  are  commonly  of  the  big- 
aesse  of  a  flea-bitten  spot,  sometimes  much  bigger.  .  .  .  But  they  have  ever  a  circle 
iboat  them,  the  red  ones  a  purplish  circle,  and  the  others  a  redish  circle.' — Brad- 
irell's  Physick  for  .  .  .  the  Plague,  1 636. — Elton  (p.  468,  footnote) :  Allusions  to 
lie  *  tokens '  of  pestilence  in  Shakespeare  are  not  uncommon  after  the  great  outbreak 
a  plague  in  the  winter  of  1602,  which,  between  Christmas  and  Christmas,  killed 
in  London  and  its  liberties  more  than  30,000  people.  The  tokens  were  redder  than 
;n  former  pestilences ;  hard  spots  of  a  bright  flaming  red  were  accounted  a  fatal 
tjmpCom. 

17.  Yon  ribaudred  Nagge]  Capell  (i,  39) :  Meaning,  indeed, — ^brazen  hack- 
ley :  and  calling  her  so  in  his  anger,  by  reason  of  her  forwardness  and  her  prosti- 
Utions :  and  from  hence,  the  propriety  of  the  imprecation  he  immediately  makes  on 
jer, — *  Whom  leprosy  o'er-take  ! ' — Steevens  :  *  Ribaudred '  is,  I  believe,  no  more 
ihan  a  corruption.  Shakespeare,  who  is  not  always  very  nice  about  his  versification, 
night  have  written,  *  Yon  ribald-rid  nag,'  1.  e.  Yon  strumpet,  who  is  common  to 
sveiy  wanton  fellow. — Malone  :  I  have  adopted  the  happy  emendation  proposed  by 
)Lx  Steevens.     Ribaud  was  only  the  old  spelling  of  ribald :  and  the  misprint  of 

'  red '  for  rid  is  easily  accounted  for.  By  ribald,  Scarus,  I  think,  means  the  lewd 
^tony  in  particular,  not  '  every  lewd  fellow,*  as  Mr  Steevens  has  explained  it. — 
Fyrwhitt  (p.  9)  :  I  believe  we  should  read,  'yon  ribauid  Hag.^  What  follows 
ieems  to  prove  it : — <  The  noble  ruin  of  her  magick,  Antony,^  etc. — [This  emendation 


21 8  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  in.  sc.  x. 

[17.  Yon  ribaudred  Nagge  of  Egypt] 
is  repeated  in  Collier's  ed.  ii,  not,  however,  as  Tyrwhitt's,  but  as  that  kA  Collier's 
corrected  Folio,  which,  as  Collier  observes,  has  *  ribaudred '  altered  to  ribald^  and 
<  nag '  to  hag.  Ribald^  he  continues,  *  requires  no  explanation,  whereas  no  instance 
of  the  use  elsewhere  either  of  "ribaudred"  or  "ribauldred"  can  be  produced. 
There  are,  no  doubt,  such  words  as  ribaldry  and  ribaldrotis^  but  the  employment  of 
them  by  old  authors  proves  nothing,  since  they  are  not  the  word  wanted.  '<  Nag" 
for  hag  was  clearly  a  misprint,  and  it  will  be  observed  that,  even  amending  the  word 
*< ribaudred"  to  ribaldridy  as  was  done  by  Steevens,  gives  the  line  a  syllable  too 
much.'  Tyrwhitt's  change  of  *■  nag '  into  hag  was  followed  a  second  time,  this  time 
by  SiNGBR,  who  exclaims  that  <  the  poet  would  surely  not  have  called  Qeopatia  a 
nag  !  *  Any  change  in  •  ribaudred,*  Singer  deems  quite  unnecessary.  * "  Ribaudred  " 
is,'  he  sa3rs,  *  obscene^  indecent  in  words  or  acts.  Thus  Barett  [Ahearie^  15S0]  : — 
*<  a  Ribaudrous  and  filthie  tongue.  Os  incesium^  obscanum,  impurum^  &*  impudicum. 
Vide  Filihie." — [where  we  find]  "  Villanie  in  actes,or  words ;  ribauldrie,  filthinesse, 
vncleannesse.  Obscanitas^*'  etc'  To  Singer's  exclamation  that  < the  poet'  would 
not  have  called  Cleopatra  a  nag^  Dyck  replies,  that  *  since  she  has  been  previously 
called  *<a  trull,"  I  see  no  reason  for  wondering  that  she  should  now  be  called 
"ifflg',"  i.e,  jade,  hackney.  ("Know  we  not  Galloway  nagsf**  exclaims  Pistol, 
alluding  to  Doll  Tearsheet. — 2  Hen.  IV:  II,  iv.) '  Furthermore,  in  reference  to 
this  use  of  *  nag,*  R.  G.  White  (ed.  i)  quotes  Leontes,  who,  •  in  his  jealous  fit,  exclaims, 
«*  Then  say  my  wife's  a  hobby-horse  /  "  ']— Staunton  :  *  Ribaudred  nag'  means  filthy 
strumpet. — Keightley  {Exp.  317) :  There  is  no  need  of  change  — Hudson  :  'Ribau- 
dred '  damages  the  metre  ;  and  I  cannot  perceive  the  sense  of  red  thus  tagged  on  to 
ribaud  .  .  .  Bishop  Hall  has  ribaldish,  and  so,  I  suspect,  the  Poet  wrote  here.  [P.  90], 
Of  course  the  epithet  ribald  \%  applied  to  Cleopatra  to  express  her  notorious  profligacy. 
It  seems  to  me,  also,  that  the  Poet  meant  'nag'  in  reference  to  her  speedy  flight 
from  the  battle,  carrying  Antony  off,  as  it  were,  on  her  back.  And  the  words,  *  the 
breese  upon  her,'  and  '  like  a  cow  in  June '  naturally  infer  that  such  was  the  image 
intended. — Thiselton  (p.  19)  :  Read  riband-red  for  'ribaudred'  on  the  following 
grounds,  (i)  No  such  word  as  'ribaudred'  is  known.  (2)  In  the  preceding  line 
'  the  Fight '  is  likened  to  *  the  Token'd  Pestilence,*  the  reference  being  to  the  Plague, 
of  which  there  were  three  varieties  ;  the  red,  the  yellow,  and  the  black.  It  is  Qeo- 
patra's  red  ribands  that  suggest  the  figure  of  the  red  plague  to  Scamis.  (3)  Red 
ribands  would  match  a  dark  complexion  and  the  actor  who  played  the  part  of  Cleo- 
patra may  be  presumed  to  have  worn  them.  (4)  Geopatra  will  then  be  likened  to 
a  nag  decked  with  red  ribands  as  for  a  fair,  anything  but  an  *  Anne-gaunt  steede.' 
(5)  '  Riband-red '  enhances  the  force  and  appropriateness  of  the  imprecation  in  the 
next  line,  '  Whom  Leprosie  o'er-take,*  that  disease  being  characterised  by  whiteness 
of  the  skin.  (6)  In  the  Folio  the  u  in  the  word  usually  given  as  '  ribaudred '  is 
raised  above  the  level  of  the  preceding  and  succeeding  letters,  and  would  therefore 
seem  to  be  in  reality  an  inverted  n. — [Suggestions  from  this  critic  are  worthy  of 
respectful  consideration.  But  is  it  any  more  easy  to  apprehend  the  meaning  of  <  a 
riband-red  nag'  than  it  is  of  '  a  waistcoat  white  gentleman  *  ?  In  Mer,  of  Ven,  III, 
ii,  103,  we  find  the  phrase,  '  the  guiled  shore '  ;  in  Afeas,  for  Meas.  Ill,  i,  lii : 
*'the  delighted  spirit*;  in  Othello,  I,  iii,  320:  'delighted  beauty'  ;  in  /  Hen.  IV: 
I,  iii,  183  :  '  disdain'd  contempt.*  In  all  these  cases,  and  many  more  could  be  added, 
the  past  participles  convey  the  meaning  that  the  nouns  which  they  qualify  are  abun- 
dantly supplied  with  that  which  the  participles  represent     Thus,  '  the  guiled  shore  * 


ACT  III,  sc.  X.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 

(Whom  Leprofie  o're-take)  i'th'midft  o'th'fight, 
When  vantage  like  a  payre  of  Twinnes  appeared 
Both  as  the  fame,  or  rather  ours  the  elder  ; 
(The  Breeze  vpon  her)  like  a  Cow  in  Inne^ 
Hoifts  Sailes^  and  flyes. 

Eno.    That  I  beheld  : 
Mine  eyes  did  ficken  at  the  fight,  and  could  not 
Indure  a  further  view. 

Scar.     She  once  being  looft, 


219 
18 

20 


25 


18.  dre'take\  dre  Ff,  Rowe. 

I'M']  Ff,  Rowe,  +  .  Vthe  Cap. 
et  seq. 

midft'\  very  midst  Rowe. 

<fth''\  Ff,  Rowc,+.  o'tke  Cap.  ct 
leq. 

19.  vaniage\  vantages  Ktly. 
aa  as  the"]  of  the  Ff,  Rowe. 

21.  Breeze"]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob. 
Warb.  Cap.  briese  Johns.  Var.  *73. 
breese  Dyce,  GIo.  Cam.  brize  Han.  et  cet. 


21.  Inne"]  June  Ff. 

22.  Sailes]  sail  Cap.  conj. 
flyesJ\flieStEn^barbus,  Elze.  flies 

amain.  Words. 

23.  24.   That ,.,  eyes]  Separate  line, 
Cap.  Steer.  Var.  '73,  '78. 

23.  beheld]  beheld  myself  YJXj, 

24.  flght^  ]  sight  of  ity  Cap.    sight  on^t 
Steev.  Var.  '73,  '78. 

26.  looft]  loofd  Mai.  Steev.  et  seq. 
aloof  d  Coll.  conj. 


means  the  shore  full  of  guiles  ;  '  the  delighted  spirit '  means  the  spirit  endowed  with 
delights;  *  disdain'd  contempt '  means  contempt/^/  of  disdain.*  In  Bishop  Cooper's 
Thesaurus  Lingua  Romamg^  I573>  ^^  ^^^t  among  the  definitions  of  Obsccenitas^ 
'ribauldrie.'  If  this  noun  be  tamed  into  a  participle  we  have  ribauldried^  which,  I 
▼entare  to  suggest,  is  the  very  word,  phonetically  spelled,  in  our  present  'ribaudred.' 
(In  the  next  scene,  forty-seventh  line,  we  have  *  vnqualit^</ *  for  <vnqnaliti>^.') 
Hence,  '  Yon  ribaudred  Nagge '  means,  I  think,  <  Yon  nag  made  up  of  or  composed 
of  ribaldry.*— Ed.] 

x8.  Leprosie]  Johnson  :  An  epidemical  distemper  of  the  Egyptians ;  to  which 
Horace  probably  alludes  in  the  controverted  line :  *  Contaminato  cum  grege  turpium 
Morbo  virorum.* — [Ode^  I,  xxxvii,  9.] 

20.  Both  as  the  same]  Staunton  :  This  is  oddly  expressed.  Can  *  as  *  be  a 
transcriber's  slip  for  ag*df  The  context,—*  or  rather  ours  the  elder,* — favours  the 
sapposition. 

21.  Breeze]  Murray  {N,  E,  D,  s.  v.  Breeze.  sb^)i  A  gadfly  :  a  name  given  to 
various  dipterous  insects,  especially  of  the  genera  (Estrus  (Bot-fly)  and  Tabanus, 
which  annoy  horses  and  cattle. 

22.  Hoists  Sailes,  and  flyes]  Staunton  [A then.  26  Apr.  1873) :  To  say  nothing 
of  the  redundant  sibilants  in  this  line,  would  Shakespeare  have  described  a  nag,  as 
like  a  cow  stung  by  the  gad-fly,  hoisting  sails  ?  I  think,  to  sustain  the  similitude  and 
the  characteristic  roughness  of  the  speaker,  he  is  more  likely  to  have  written, — *  Hoists 
tail  and  flies.'  Those  familiar  with  old  typography  know  well  how  readily  *  sails* 
and  taile  would  be  confounded.  If  my  conjecture  has  any  weight,  it  shows  the  error 
committed  by  several  modem  editors  in  reading  hag  for  *  nag.* 

26.  looft]  Bradley  (A^.  E,  D.  s,  v.  Luff.  2.  trans.)  :  To  bring  the  head  of  a 


220  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  hi,  sc  x. 

The  Noble  ruine  of  her  Magicke^  Anthony ^  27 

Claps  on  his  Sea-wing,  and  ( like  a  doting  Mallard  ) 

Leauing  the  Fight  in  heighth,  flyes  after  her : 

I  neuer  faw  an  Aftion  of  fuch  fhame  ;  30 

Experience,  Man-hood,  Honor,  ne're  before,  | 

Did  violate  fo  it  felfe. 

Yjiob.    Alacke,  alacke. 

^nUr  Camidius. 

Cam.     Our  Fortune  on  the  Sea  is  out  of  breath,  35 

And  finkes  moft  lamentably.   Had  our  Generall 
Bin  what  he  knew  himfelfe,  it  had  gone  well  : 
Oh  his  ha's  giuen  example  for  our  flight, 
Moft  g^oflely  by  his  owne. 

'^nob.     I ,  are  you  thereabouts  ?    Why  then  goodnight  40 

indeede. 

Cam.    Toward  Peloponnefus  are  they  fled.  42 

28.  and'\  Om.  Pope,  +  .  Dyce>  Sta. 

29.  heighih'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Cap.  41.  indeede\  Indeed  (as  separate  line 

37.  Bin'\  Been  F^.  of  verse)  Han.  Cap.  et  seq.  (except  Knt, 

38.  his  ka's\  hee  ha' 5  F,.   he  has  F^F^.         Dyce,  Sta.)     ittdeed^  Canidms  EUe. 
40»  41.   I t  ,„  indeede J\  [Aside.  Cap.  42.    Tbnwr^]  Ff,Rowe,  Pope,Theob. 

Knt,  Ktly.  Han.  Warb.  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.     Towards 

40.  /, ...  thereedxmts  /]  Separate  line,         Johns,  et  cet 

▼essel  nearer  to  the  wind.     [The  present  line  quoted.     The  word  occurs  more  than 
once  in  the  Life  of  Anthony  in  North's  Plniarch."] 

28.  Sea- wing]  No  mention  of  this,  as  a  nautical  term,  is  made  in  Smith's  Acci- 
dence  . .  .  Necessary  for  all  Young  Sea-men^  etc  1626,  nor  in  Smyth's  Sailor's  Word- 
Book,  1867.  The  Century  Dictionary  quotes  the  present  line,  and  gives  the  obvioiis 
meaning  *  a  sail,'  and  adds  that  it  is  '  Rare.'  It  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  as 
needing  comment  were  it  not  that  in  an  extremely  rare  little  volume,  I  find  the  fol- 
lowing, which  I  quote  for  what  it  is  worth  :  *  [Sea-wings]  are  two  rows  of  long  flat 
pieces  of  wood,  which  are  suspended  in  the  air  when  the  vessel  sails,  and  which  are 
let  down  in  concert  when  they  are  becalmed  or  have  the  wind  against  them. —  Vide 
Spectacle  de  la  NcUure,  vol.  4.' — John  Croft,  Annotations  on  Plays  of  Shakespear^ 
York,  1810.     This  particular  Spectacle  de  la  NcUure  I  have  never  seen. — Ed. 

38.  Oh  his  ha's  giuen  example,  etc.]  Thiselton  (p.  20) :  'His'  is  undoubt- 
edly the  correct  reading,  the  sense  being  *  his  general  (Cleopatra)  by  leading  him  off 
into  flight  has  set  us  the  example  for  flight'  [Does  this  accord  with  '  his  owne '  in 
the  next  line?— Ed.] 

40,  41.  I,  are  jtou  thereabouts  ?  .  .  .  indeede]  Hudson  :  <  If  that  is  what  70a 
are  thinking  about,  then  our  cause  is  lost,  or  our  game  is  up,  sure  enough.'  Enobar- 
bus  rightly  construes  what  Canidius  has  just  said  as  an  intimation  that  he  is  meditat- 
ing desertion  from  Antony,  since  Antony  has  deserted  himself. 


ACT  III,  sc.  xi.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  221 

Scar.    *Tis  eafie  toot,  43 

And  there  I  will  attend  what  further  comes. 

Camid.    To  Ccefar  will  I  render  45 

My  Legions  and  my  Horfe,  fixe  Kings  alreadie 
Shew  me  the  way  of  yeelding. 

"Eno.     He  yet  follow 
The  wounded  chance  of  Anthony ^  though  my  reafon 
Sits  in  the  winde  againft  me.  50 

\Scene  X/.] 

'Enter  Anthony  with  Attendants. 
Ant.     Hearke,  the  Land  bids  me  tread  no  more  vpon't, 
It  is  afham'd  to  beare  me.     Friends,  come  hither, 
I  am  fo  lated  in  the  world,  that  I 

Haue  loft  my  way  for  euer.     I  haue  a  ftiippe,  5 

Laden  with  Gold,  take  that,  diuide  it  :  flye, 

43.  /tfo^]  tt^t  FjF^.     way  Ktly  conj.  tinued,    Rowe,    Theob.   Warb.    Johns. 

44.  what  further  coMfs]  Separate  line,         Scene  IX.  Cap.  et  cet 

Han.  Var.  '78  et  seq.  Alexandria.    A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

further"]  farther  CoiX,  Gip.     ...in  Cleopatra's  Palace.  D3rce. 

47.  [Exit  Cap.  I.  Enter...]  Enter  Antony,  with  Eros 

50.  [Exeunt,  severally.  Theob.  Exit.         ...  Pope. 

Cap.  4.  lated]  'lated Cz.^.  (Errata.) 

Scene  XI.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  5,  9,  25.  /Aaw^] /*v^  Pope,+,  Dyce 
Scene  VIII.  Pope,   Han.     Scene  con-        ii.  iii. 

49.  The  wounded  chance  of  Anthony]  Johnson  :  I  know  not  whether  the 
author,  who  loves  to  draw  his  images  from  the  sports  of  the  field,  might  not  have 
written :  '  The  wounded  chase  of  Antony.'  The  allusion  is  to  a  deer  wounded  and 
chased,  whom  all  other  deer  avoid.  I  will,  says  Enobarbus,  follow  Antony,  though 
chased  and  wounded.  The  common  reading,  however,  may  very  well  stand. — 
Malone  :  The  wounded  chance  of  Antony,  is  a  phrase  nearly  of  the  same  import  as 

*  the  broken  fortunes  of  Antony.*    The  old  reading  is  indisputably  the  true  one.    So, 

•  Or  shall  I  show  the  cinders  of  my  spirits,  Through  th*  ashes  of  my  chance.'  [V, 
ii,  204.] — Steevens  :  Mr  Malone  has  judiciously  defended  the  old  reading.  In 
Othello  we  have  a  phrase  somewhat  similar  to  <  wounded  chance ' ;  vi2.  *  mangled 
matter.'  [I,  iii,  196.] 

50.  Sits  in  the  winde]  Capell  (i,  39)  :  The  word  *  sits '  shews  the  phrase  to 
be  taken  from  field-sports  ;  the  pursuers  of  which  know, — that  scents  coming  down 
the  wind,  or  from  game  that  sits  or  lyes  in  the  wind,  are  alwa]rs  the  strongest. 

2.  Hearke,  etc]  What  phenomenon  in  nature  was  it  to  which  Antony  here  refers, 
and  interprets  according  to  his  own  despairing  mood  ?  Can  it  have  been  the  wild 
tumult  on  land  caused  by  *  the  great  boisterous  wind,'  which,  according  to  Plutarch, 
troubled  Anthony's  ships  more  than  aught  else  after  he  had  deserted  them  ? — Ed. 

4.  lated]  Johnson:  Alluding  to  a  benighted  traveller.— Steevens :  Thus,  in 
Macbeth,  III,  iii,  10 :  *  Now  spurres  the  lated  traueller  apace.' 


222  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  in,  sc.  xl 

And  make  your  peace  with  Ca/ar.  7 

Omnes.     Fly  ?  Not  wee. 

Ant.  I  haue  fled  my  felfe,  and  haue  inftrufled  cowards 
To  runne,  and  (hew  their  (houlders.     Friends  be  gone^  10 

I  haue  my  felfe  refoluM  vpon  a  courfe, 
Which  has  no  neede  of  you.     Be  gone, 
My  Treafure's  in  the  Harbour.     Take  it :  Oh, 
I  followed  that  I  blufh  to  looke  vpon. 

My  very  haires  do  mutiny  :  for  the  white  15 

Reproue  the  browne  for  rafhnefle,  and  they  them 
For  feare,  and  doting.     Friends  be  gone,  you  (hall 
Haue  Letters  from  me  to  fome  Friends,  that  will 
Sweepe  your  way  for  you.     Pray  you  looke  not  lad. 
Nor  make  replyes  of  loathnefle,  take  the  hint  20 

Which  my  difpaire  proclaimes.     Let  them  be  left 
Which  leaues  it  felfe,  to  the  Sea-fide  flraight  way;  22 

8.  Omnes.]   Att   Cap.   Mai.  et  seq.        itself:  Cap.  et  seq. 
(subs.)  22.  (o  the]  to  Ff. 

Fly  /]  Fly  !  Rowe  et  seq.  Sea-fide  ftraigkl  way;'}  F^    sea- 

13.  it:  OA,"}  Ff.  it — OA,  Rowe,  Pope,  su/e  straigkt-we^.  Rowe,  P6pe,  Theob. 

Theob.  Han.  Waib.     it,  OA,  Johns,  et  Han.  Warb.  seaside,  Stra^ktway  Johns. 

cct  (subs.)  Var.  '73.     sea-side  straight  away;  Cap. 

21,  22.  them., .it  felfe,']  Ff,  Rowe  i.  feafidejlraightway:  F,F^  Var.  *78  et 

them   be   left    Which    leave   themselves.  seq. 

Rowe  ii,  +  .     that  be  left  Which  leaves 

9.  I  haue  fled  my  selfe]  Does  this  mean,  *  I  myself  have  fled,'  or  '  I  have  fled 
from  myself?  Romeo  says  (I,  i,  190):  <I  have  lost  myself.  I  am  not  here.* 
Further  on,  Anthony  says,  *  Let  [that]  be  left  which  leaves  itself.' — ^Ed. 

12.  Which  has  no  neede  of  jtou.  Be  i^one]  This  line  lacks  two  syllables. 
Several  ingenious  expedients  have  been  proposed  to  correct  this  serkms  error. 
Capell  reiterates  *  Be  gone  * ;  Stketens  suggested,  *  Be  gone,  I  say^ ;  Kkightlkt, 
•  Be  gone,  J  pray '  or  *I  pray  you.*  And  Abbott  (J  507)  asserts  that  *  the  best  way 
of  arranging '  it  is  to  print  *  Begone '  in  a  separate  line.  Is  it  to  be  supposed  that 
Shakespeare  was  unable  to  detect  the  loss  of  two  syllables,  and  that  his  resoniroes 
were  insufficient  to  supply  what  any  child  could  suggest  ?  Or  is  it  to  be  supposed 
that,  after  Shakespeare's  audience  had  shuddered  on  hearing  the  maimed  ntteranoe 
on  the  stage,  their  lacerated  feelings  were  soothed  by  seeing  '  Begone'  printed  as  a 
separate  line  ? — Ed. 

17,  18.  Friends  be  gone,  .  .  .  some  Friends]  On  the  supposition  that  there  is 
some  corruption  in  the  repetition  of  *  Friends,'  Walkrr  (Or/.  1, 288)  proposedt  'per- 
haps, ** FcHows,  begone"  {socii).*  Whereupon,  Dtcx  (ed.  ii)  comments:  *Here 
Walker  would  alter  what  an  earlier  line  (the  second)  ci  this  ^leech  proves  tobe  qnifee 
right.    Whether  or  not  there  be  any  error  in  **  some  friends  "  I  cannot  determine.' 

20.  replyes  of  loatbnesse]  Wordsworth  :  As  if  you  were  loath  to  do  what  I  saj. 

21,  22.  Let  them  be  left  Which  leaues  it  selfie]  Of  his  own  emeadntioQ  ( 


ACT  in,  sa  xi.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


223 


I  will  poflefle  you  of  that  (hip  and  Treafure. 
Leaue  me,  I  pray  a  little :  pray  you  now, 
Nay  do  fo  :  for  indeede  I  haue  loft  command, 
Therefore  I  pray  you,  He  fee  you  by  and  by.     Sits  downe 
Enter  Cleopatra  led  by  Charmian  and  Eros. 

Eros.     Nay  gentle  Madam,  to  him,  comfort  him. 

Iras.    Do  moft  deere  Queene. 

Char.     Do,  why,  what  elfe  f 

Cleo.     Let  me  fit  downe  :  Oh  luno. 

Ant.     No,  no,  no,  no,  no. 

Eros.     See  you  heere.  Sir  ? 

Ant.     Oh  fie,  fie,  fie. 

Char.     Madam. 

Iras.     Madam,  oh  good  Empreffe. 

Eros.     Sir,  fir. 

Ant.     Yes  my  Lord,  yt,s  \  he  at  Philippi  kept 


23 


25 


30 


35 


38 


24.  funo^   funty—  Rowe,  4  .      new : 
Cap.  et  seq. 

26.  you^'\you — Rowe,  +  .  y(m:Qx^, 
et  fteq. 

Sits  downe]  Exeunt  Att  Throws 
himself  on  a  Couch.  Cap.  Om.  Varr.  Mai. 
Ran. 

27.  Enter...]  Enter  Eros,  with  Cleo- 
patra... Cap. 

28.  himy'\  him,  Johns,     him:  Van. 
Mai. 

3a  /?<?,]  Do ?  Rowe  ii,  + .   Do!  Cap. 
et  seq. 

Char.  Do...el/el'\  Om.  Words. 

30,  31.  Char.  Do... el/el  Cleo.  Let"] 
Geo.  Do  f...ehe  f  let  Han. 


30,  31.  Do.,.me\  Separate  line,  Han. 

31.  y7/...Iuno.]  Separate  line,  Ktly. 
downe  .*]  down.  Var.  '78  et  seq. 
[sitting  down.  Coll.  ii. 

35,  36.  Char.  Madam.  Iras.  Madam, 
...Empreffe. '\  Om.  Words. 

35.  Madam,'\  Yi,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han. 
Madam  !  Glo.  Cam.  Madam —  Theob. 
et  cet.  ( subs. ) 

36.  oh  good  "l  good  CaL"^. 
Emprejfe.'\  empress, —  Cap.  Dyce. 

empress  I  Glo.  Cam. 

37.  ^r.]  sir,  my  Lord!  Han.  sir! 
Glo.  Cam.    sir, —  Cap.  et  seq.  (subs.) 

38-41.  Mnemonic,  Warb. 

38.  my  Lord,']  Om.  Han. 


Text.  Notes)  Capell  complacently  remarks  that  it  is  one  *  which  the  modems  had 
done  well  to  have  made ;  instead  of  altering,  as  they  have  done,  *'  itself  **  into  them- 
selves.^    Collier's  MS  also  made  the  same  emendation. 

25.  I  haue  lost  command]  Johnson  :  I  am  not  roaster  of  my  own  emotions. — 
Stsbyens  :  Surely,  he  rather  means, — I  entreat  you  to  leave  me,  because  I  have  lost 
all  power  to  command  your  absence.     [Unquestionably.] 

38.  Yes  my  Lord,  yes]  Capell  (i,  39)  :  These  words  puzzVd  the  Oxford  editor 
[Hanmer],  and  some  others  besides  him  ;  and  that  for  want  of  duly  reflecting  upon 
the  situation  of  the  person  who  speaks  them :  Bury'd  in  thought  and  sightless,  with- 
out knowledge  of  what  is  said  to  him  or  where  he  is,  he  just  hears  a  voice ;  replies  to 
it,  as  it  had  come  from  some  courtier  or  other  great  person,  and  relapses  immediately 
into  the  same  train  of  thinking  that  engag'd  him  before  ;  nor  is  he  wak'd  out  of  it, 
'till  Eros  (either  raising  his  voice,  or  shaking  him)  says — <  Sir,  the  queen.^ — [line  54. 


224  ^^^   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  xi. 

His  fword  e'ne  like  a  dancer,  while  I  flrooke  39 

39.  e'n€\  Ff,  Rowe,  +,  Var.  *2i.  Coll.  y^.Jtrookeytrook F^F^, Row^+,Cap. 

Sing.  Dyce,  Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.    even        struck  Var.  '73. 
Cap.  et  cet 


Capell  is  right,  I  think,  in  his  interpretation  of  these  words.  Anthonj  is  utterlj 
unconscious  of  the  world  about  him;  but  roused,  for  a  second,  by  the  voice,  or, 
possibly,  the  respectful  hand  of  Eros,  he  answers  at  random  with  instinctiTe  courtesy, 
which,  indeed,  is  pathetic  in  the  circumstances,  <  Yes,  my  lord,  yes.'  STAUirroN, 
£iowever,  apparently  hears  in  the  expression  a  somewhat  petulant  tone.  '  This  kind 
of  rejoinder,'  he  remarks,  *  sometimes  in  play,  sometimes  in  petulance,  b  not  onfre- 
quent  in  our  old  dramas.  See  Mer,  of  Ven,  II,  ix,  89,  90,' — where  a  Messenger 
enters  and  asks,  <  Where  is  my  LAdy  ?  '  and  Portia  gaily  replies,  <  Here,  what  would 
my  Lord?'  As  instances  similar  to  this  reply  of  Portia,  Dyce  {Remarks^  p.  55) 
quotes  ad  loc,  from  /  Hen,  IV:  II,  iv :  •  Hostess,  O  Jesu  I  my  lord  the  prince. 
P.  Henry,  How  now,  my  lady,  the  hostess.'  From  Huh,  II:  V,  v :  •  Groom. 
Hail,  royal  prince !  King  Richard,  Thanks,  noble  peer^  And  from  The  Hogge 
hath  Lost  his  Pearle^  16 14,  sig.  H  :  *  Enter  Peter  with  a  candle,  Peter,  Where  are 
you,  my  Lord?  Hog,  Here,  my  Lady,^  Of  these  three  instances,  that  from  Rich, 
II,  should  be  eliminated,  I  think.  There  is  neither  gaiety  nor  petulance  in  Richard's 
reply  to  the  Groom,  but  sarcasm,  as  the  context  shows.  In  his  note  on  this  same 
reply  of  Portia,  Staunton  sa3rs :  *  a  dozen  instances  may  be  cited,  where  a  similar 
expression  is  used  by  an  individual  of  station  to  one  of  very  inferior  rank ' ;  but 
he  merely  repeats  those  already  given  by  Dyce,  without  any  addition.  In  default, 
therefore,  of  more  examples,  we  can  hardly  accept  these  three,  Portia's,  Prince 
Hal's,  and  Hog*s,  as  sufficient  to  warrant  the  belief  that  this  mode  of  expression 
was  common;  and  the  fact  that  in  all  of  them  there  lies  banter  or  sarcasm,  is 
quite  enough  to  deprive  them  of  any  similarity  to  Anthony's  present  words,  which,  I 
think,  stand  quite  alone,  and  have  been  rightly  interpreted  by  Capell.  Hudson, 
however,  gives  a  different  meaning  to  them.  '  Antony,'  he  says,  *  is  muttering  to 
himself  under  an  overpowering  sense  of  shame.  In  "  Yes,  my  lord,  yes,"  he  is 
referring  to  Caesar :  '*  Yes,  Qesar,  you  have  done  me  now,  and  can  have  things  all 
3rour  own  way."  * — Ed.] 

38,  39.  he  at  Philippi  kept  His  sword  e'ne  like  a  dancer]  Johnson  :  In  the 
Morisco,  and  perhaps  anciently  in  the  Pyrrhick  dance,  the  dancers  held  swords  in 
their  hands  with  the  points  upward.— Steeyens  :  I  believe  it  means  that  Csesar 
never  offered  to  draw  his  sword,  but  kept  it  in  the  scabbard,  like  one  who  dances 
with  a  sword  on,  which  was  formerly  the  custom  in  England. — Malone  :  That  Mr 
Steevens's  explanation  is  just,  appears  from  a  passage  in  AlPs  Well;  Bertram, 
lamenting  that  he  is  kept  from  the  wars^  says — *  Creaking  my  shoes  .  .  .  Till  honour 
be  bought  up,  and  no  sword  worn.  But  one  to  dance  with.'  [II,  i,  31.]  The  word 
worn  shows  that  in  both  passages  our  author  was  thinking  of  the  English,  and  not 
of  the  Pyrrhick,  or  the  Morisco,  dance  (as  Dr  Johnson  supposed),  in  which  the 
sword  was  not  worn  at  the  side,  but  held  in  the  hand  with  the  point  upward. — 
Staunton  (Note  on  Airs  Well,  II,  i,  31)  :  As  it  was  the  fashion  in  Shakespeare's 
time  for  gentlemen  to  dance  with  swords  on,  and  the  ordinary  weapon  was  liable  to 
impede  their  motions,  rapiers,  light  and  short,  were  made  for  the  purpose  : — *  when 
our  Gentlemen  went  simply  .  .  .  without  Cuts  or  gards,  bearing  their  heauy  Swordes 


ACT  III,  SC.  xi.]      ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  22$ 

The  leane  and  wrinkled  Cojffius,  and  'twas  I  40 

That  the  mad  Brutus  ended  :  he  alone 

Dealt  on  Lieutenantry,  and  no  praftife  had 

In  the  braue  fquares  of  Warre  :  yet  now  :  no  matter.  43 

41.  mad']  sad Hau.  /ad or mt/d Thtoh,  43.  new:  no  matter]  now — no  matter 

conj.  (Nichols  ///.  ii,  $03)  withdrawn.  — Rowe,  +  ,  Var. '73.  iww — No  matter, 

man  Cap.  conj.  (Notes ,  i,  40;  also  Gar.  Cap.  et  cet.  (sabs.) 
p.  100)  withdrawn. 

and  Buckelers  on  their  thighes,  in  sted  of  cuts  and  Gardes  and  light  daunsing  Swordes* 
—Stafford's  Briefe  Conceipt  of  English  Pollicy,  1581. 

38-43.  Hazlitt  (p.  100) :  The  passage  after  Antony's  defeat  by  Augustus  where 
he  is  made  to  [utter  these  words]  is  one  of  those  fine  retrospections  which  shew  us 
the  winding  and  eventful  march  of  human  life.  The  jealous  attention  which  has 
been  paid  to  the  unities  both  of  time  and  place  has  taken  away  the  principle  of  per- 
q)ectiTe  in  the  drama,  and  all  the  interest  which  objects  derive  from  distance,  from 
contrast,  from  privation,  from  change  of  fortune,  from  long-cherished  passion  ;  and 
contracts  our  view  of  life  from  a  strange  and  romantic  dream,  long,  obscure,  and 
infinite,  into  a  smartly  contested,  three  hours'  inaugural  disputation  on  its  merits  by 
the  different  candidates  for  theatrical  applause. 

41.  the  mad  Brutus]  Upton  (p.  296)  :  Why  does  Antony  call  Brutus  *mad'  ? 
Plato  seeing  how  extravagantly  Diogenes  acted  the  philosopher,  said  of  him  That 
he  was  Socrates  run  mad.  There  is  also  a  maxim  drawn  from  the  depth  of  philoso- 
phy by  Horace,  Epist.  I,  vi,  15  :  ^  Insani  sapiens  nomen  ferat,  sequus  iniqui.  Ultra 
quam  satis  est  virtutem  si  petat  ipsam.'  Now  if  this  be  the  opinion  of  philosophers 
themselves  concerning  philosophy,  that  it  may  be  pursued  with  so  much  ardor  and 
enthusiasm,  that  even  the  over-strained  pursuit  may  border  on  madness  ;  how  agree- 
able  it  is  to  the  character  of  the  wild,  undisciplined  Antony,  to  call  even  Brutus  Mad^ 
the  sober  Brutus,  the  philosopher  and  patriot  ?  Such  as  Antony  look  on  all  virtue 
and  patriotism  as  enthusiasm  and  madness. 

42.  Dealt  on  Lieutenantry]  Johnson  :  I  know  not  whether  the  meaning  is, 
that  Caesar  acted  only  as  lieutenant  at  Philippi,  or  that  he  made  his  attempts  only  on 
lieutenants,  and  left  the  generals  to  Antony. — Steevens  :  I  believe  it  means  only, — 
'  fought  by  proxy,'  made  war  by  his  lieutenants,  or  on  the  strength  of  his  lieutenants. 
So,  in  a  former  scene,  Ventidius  observes — <  Caesar  and  Antony  have  ever  won  More  in 
their  officer^  than  person.' — [III,  i,  20.] — Malone:  In  the  Life  of  Antony  y  Shakspeare 
found  the  following :  *  — they  were  alwa)rs  more  fortunate  when  they  made  warre  by 
their  lieutenants^  than  by  themselves '  ; — [see  III,  i,  16]  which  fully  explains  the 
present  passage.  The  subsequent  words  also — *  and  no  practice  had,'  etc  show  that 
Mr  Steevens  has  rightly  interpreted  this  passage. — M.  Mason  :  Steevens's  explanation 
of  this  passage  is  just,  and  agreeable  to  the  character  here  given  of  Augustus.  Shak- 
speare represents  him,  in  the  next  Act,  as  giving  his  orders  to  Agrippa,  and  remain- 
ing unengaged  himself :  '  Go  forth,  Agrippa,  and  begin  the  fight .  .  .  .'  Again  :  <  Go, 
chaxge,  Agrippa.' — Staunton  :  Or  it  may  mean  traded  in  war's  theory: — •  I  met 
just  now  a  usurer,  that  only  deals  upon  ounces.' — The  Witty  Fair  One,  V,  i. — 
Schmidt  (Lex.  s.  v.  Deal) :  Acted  by  substitutes. 

43.  squares  of  Warre]  Century  Dictionary  ( j.  v.  Square,  9)  :  A  body  of 
troops  drawn  up  in  quadrilateral  form.    The  formation  used  in  the  sixteenth  century 

IS 


226  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  xi. 

Cleo.    Ah  ftand  by. 

Eros.    The  Queene  my  Lord,  the  Queene.  45 

Iras.     Go  to  him,  Madam,  fpeake  to  him, 
Hee's  vnqualited  with  very  (hame. 

Cleo.     Well  then,  fuftaine  me  :  Oh. 

Eros.     Moft  Noble  Sir  arife,  the  Queene  approaches. 
Her  head's  declined,  and  death  will  ceafe  her,  but  50 

44.  Ah]  Ah  me  !  Cap.  47.  Heis]  Walker.     HeisYi  tX  seq. 
Jland  by,]  stand  you  by  [To  Eros.  vnqualiUd]   unquaHHed  Theob. 

Words.  et  seq. 

[rising.  Cap.  48.  then^  then^ —  Cap.  et  seq. 

45.  Queene.]  queen —  Rowe,  + .  Oh.]  Oh  ! —  Rowe.    oh  /  Theob. 

46.  47.   Go  ,,.  vnqualited]  One  line,  0/Cap. 

Cap.  Walker,  Words.  [Rising.  Coll.  it 

46.  fpeake  to  him^  speak  ;  Words.  50.  ceafe]  feize  Ff  et  seq. 

and  afterward  was  a  nearly  solid  body  of  pikemen,  to  which  the  harquebusiers,  cross- 
bowmen,  etc.  formed  an  accessory,  as  by  being  posted  on  the  flanks,  etc.  In  Shake- 
speare's time  troops  drawn  up  in  battle  array  were  primarily  in  squares. 

47.  Hee's  vnqualited]  Malonb:  I  suppose  she  means,  he  is  unsoldier'd. 
Quality ^  in  Shakspeare's  age,  was  often  used  for  profession. — Steevens  :  Perhaps, 
unqualitiedy  only  signifies  unmanned  in  general,  *  disarmed  of  his  usual  faculties,* 
without  any  particular  reference  to  soldiership. 

50.  cease]  Hudson  <  strongly  suspects  that  ** cease"  should  be  retained,'  because 
Shakesp>eare  <  repeatedly  uses  cease  as  a  causative  verb.'  [See  Text,  Notes  for  the 
accepted  reading.] 

50.  but]  Johnson  :  •  But  *  has  here,  as  once  before  in  this  play,  the  force  di  except 
or  unless,  [Johnson  refers,  probably,  to  I,  i,  57,  where  the  meaning  which  he  claims 
for  the  word  is  somewhat  doubtful.  See  also  IV,  xi,  2  ;  V,  i,  34.] — Malone  :  I 
rather  incline  to  think  that  <  but '  has  here  its  ordinary  signification.  If  it  had  been 
used  for  unless^  Shakespeare  would,  I  conceive,  have  written,  according  to  his 
usual  practices,  make. — [Possibly,  accepting  this  hint,  Dyce  conjectured  make; 
and  his  conjecture  was  adopted  in  the  text  by  Hudson  and  Wordsworth.  John- 
son is  so  far  right,  I  think,  in  his  interpretation  that  unless  seems  a  better  para- 
phrase than  only^  which  is  what  Abbott  (§  124)  gives,  with  the  remark  that  'this 
[present]  passage  illustrates  the  connection  between  "  but  **  meaning  only  and  •*  but " 
used  adversatively.*  See  notes,  especially  Walker's,  on  *  But  being  chaiig'd,'  IV, 
xi,  2,  where  <  But '  can  hardly  mean  only^  and  is  almost  uniformly  said  to  mean 
unless.  In  the  present  passage  Franz  (§  414,  b.  a.)  observes  that  *but*  is  equiva- 
lent Xo  if  .  .  ,  not ;  that  is,  *  death  will  seize  her,  if  your  comfort  does  not  make  the 
rescue';  and  quotes  a  parallel  passage  in  Twelfth  Night  (III,  i,  40)  where  Feste 
says,  *  I  would  be  sorry,  sir,  but  the  Foole  should  be  as  oft  with  your  master,  as  with 
my  Mistress ; '  again,  in  Love's  Lab.  Lost  (IV,  i,  106)  where  Boyet  says,  *  I  am 
much  deceived,  but  I  remember  the  style.'  Where  shades  of  meaning  are  in  question, 
it  is  folly  to  be  dogmatic.  Yet  if  choice  must  be  here  made  between  the  three  mean- 
ings :  *  but '  adversative,  and  *  but '  as  equivalent  to  unless^  only,  and  *  but  *  as  equiv- 
alent to  1/ .  .  .  not,  the  last  seems,  I  think,  the  best     The  use  of  the  indicative 


.  ,_  *i. J     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  227 

Your  comfort  makes  the  refcue.  S  ^ 

Ant.     I  haue  offended  Reputation, 
A  moft  vnnoble  fweruing. 

Eros.     Sir,  the  Queene. 

Ant.     Oh  whether  haft  thou  lead  me  Egypt,  fee  55 

How  I  conuey  my  (hame,  out  of  thine  eyes. 
By  looking  backe  what  I  haue  left  behinde 
Stroy'd  in  diflionor.  S^ 

51.  makes\  make  Dyce  conj.  Hods.  55.  Oh  whither]  O  whi/her  Ff  tt  seq. 
Words.  ^iyp^,]   Egypt  f    Rowe  el  scq. 

refcue]  rescue  presently  V^OT^,  (subs.) 

52,  53.  Reputation.. .fweruing]  Sepa-  [starting  up.  Cap. 
rate  line,  Ktly.                                                     5^.  [Rising.  Coll.  ii. 

52.  Reputation,]   Ff.      reputation^—  57-  what]  Ff,  Coll.  Sing.  Dyce,  Wh. 

Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  reputation  ;  Rowe  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.     on  what  Rowe  et  cet. 
etcet  /haue] /*ve  Tope, -\-. 

$2'  fweruing.]  Ff.  swennng—Kowt,  58.  Strcytt]  'Stroud  Pope,-»-,  Cap. 

+  ,  Var.  *73.    swerving:  Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.  Stecv.  Varr.  Coll.  Wh. 

•  makes '  after  the  conditional  *  but,*  Franz  (J  487,  b.  Indikativ)  ascribes  to  the 
sureness,  the  reality  of  the  conclusion. — Ed.] 

52.  Reputation]  That  is,  *  reputation '  in  the  abstract.  Compare  Othello  (II,  ii, 
291,  of  this  ed.)  where  Cassio  exclaims  :  '  Reputation,  Reputation,  Reputation  :  Oh 
I  haue  lost  my  Reputation.  I  haue  lost  the  immortall  part  of  myselfe,  and  what 
remaines  is  bestiall.' 

53.  A  most  vnnoble]  Collier  (ed.  ii) :  The  MS  here  has,  <  By  most  unnoble,* 
but  it  can  hardly  be  called  a  necessary  emendation,  although  it  is  very  likely  what 
the  actor  spoke. 

55  and  62.  Egypt]  Coleridge  (p.  236)  says  that  *the  stage  in  Shakespeare's 
time  was  a  naked  room  with  a  blanket  for  a  curtain ;  but  he  made  it  a  field  for 
monarchs.'  And  moreover  taught  those  monarchs  the  right  royal  mode  of  addressing 
each  other.     •  Who  is  it  thou  dost  call  usurper,  France  ?  * — King  John,  II,  i,  120 ; 

•  England,  thou  hast  not  saved  one  drop  of  blood.' — Ibid.  II,  i,  342  (there  is  many  and 
many  an  instance  in  this  same  play  of  King  John,  where  monarchs  are  the  chief  actors). 

•  Myself  am  Naples  *  Ferdinand  says  in  The  Tempest.  There  have  been  already  two 
or  three  instances  in  this  present  play  where  Anthony  addresses  Cleopatra  as  *  Eg3rpt,' 
and  there  are  others  in  the  scenes  to  come ;  notably  where  Anthony  is  djring. — Ed. 

56.  How  I  conuey  my  shame,  etc.  ]  Johnson  :  How,  by  looking  another  way, 
I  withdraw  my  ignominy  from  your  sight. — STAUNTON  imparts,  better,  perhaps,  than 
Johnson,  the  subtle  meaning  of  *  convey  *  by  paraphrasing  the  sentence  thus :  *  How 
I  pass  by  sleight  my  shame  out  of  thy  sight,  in  looking  another  way.' 

57.  By  looking  backe  what  I  haue  left  behinde]  Abbott  (§  200)  quotes  this 
passage,  among  others,  as  an  instance  of  the  omission  of  the  preposition  *  after  some 
verbs  which  can  easily  be  regarded  as  transitive,'  and  thus  explains  it :  <  While  turn- 
ing away  from  Cleopatra,  Antony  appears  to  say,  that  he  is  looking  back  (for)  the 
fleet  that  he  has  left  dishonoured  and  destroyed.'  Again,  in  §  220,  he  interprets  the 
present  *  looking '  as  equivalent  to  looking  .  .  .  for. 

58.  Stroy'd]  Capell  (i,  40)  :  [This  word]  the  present  editor  was  greatly  tempted 


228  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  xL 

Cleo.    Oh  my  Lord,  my  Lord , 
Forgiue  my  fearfull  fayles,  I  little  thought  60 

You  would  haue  followed. 

Ant.     Egypt,  thou  kneVft  too  well. 
My  heart  was  to  thy  Rudder  tyed  by'th^ftringfs, 
And  thou  (hould'ft  ftowe  me  after.     OVe  my  fpirit 
The  full  fupremacie  thou  kneVft,  and  that  65 

Thy  becke,  might  from  the  bidding  of  the  Gods 
Command  mee. 

CUo.     Oh  my  pardon. 

AnU     Now  I  muft 
To  the  young  man  fend  humble  Treaties,  dodge  70 

And  palter  in  the  (hifts  of  lownes,  who 
With  halfe  the  bulke  o^thVorld  plaid  as  I  pleasM, 
Making,  and  marring  Fortunes.     You  did  know  73 

61.  foUowed^foUoiifd  Pope  et  seq.  i.  Coll.  Wh.  i.     Thy  full  Theob.  ii  et 

63.  ^M*]  by  th'  FjF^,  Rowe,  +  .    by        cct 

the  Var.  '73  et  seq.  68.  Oh'\  Oh,  Rowe.     O,  Cap. 

Jlrings]  string  Rowe  ii,  +  .  70.  TreatUs]  treaties  Cap.  Ktly. 

64.  Jlcwe\  towe  Rowe  et  seq.  (subs.)  71.  Jhifts'\  %hift  Rowe  ii,  Pope,  Theob. 

65.  Thifull^  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.         Han.  Warb. 

to  alter;  not  meerly  upon  account  of  it's  harshness  or  it's  uncommon  aphaeresis,  (for 
that,  perhaps,  might  be  justify' d  by  parallel  instances)  but  because  a  better  image 
presents  itself, — and  such  a  one  as  the  passage  seems  to  point  out  to, — by  the 
admission  of  a  word  very  near  it  in  character, — strtu/d  or  strozt^d.  The  following 
comment  will  shew  what  the  editor  thinks,  is  the  image  intended ;  and  which  is 
indeed  seen  in  the  words  as  they  stand,  but  more  plainly  \i  strorafd  be  admitted  :  . . . 

*  By  looking  back  on  what  I  have  left  behind,  Stron/d  in  dishonour,'  or  in  the  paths 
of  dishonour;  meaning — his  ruin'd  fortunes;  which,  as  they  had  been  riches^  or 
other  realities,  stroit^d  the  way  which  he  took  in  his  flight. 

63.  tyed  by'th'strings]  Johnson  :  That  is,  by  the  heart-strings, 

64.  thou  should'st]  See  Abbott,  §  326,  for  examples  of  this  Elizabethan  nse  of 
should^  where  we  now  use  might  or  would. 

64.  should'st  stowe]  Malone  :  This  is  one  of  the  many  corruptions  occasioned 
by  the  transcriber's  ear  deceiving  him. — [Was  it  the  *  transcriber '  or  the  compositor's 
reader? — Ed.] 

64.  spirit]  Walker's  pronunciation  of '  spirit '  as  a  monosyllable  would  be  intoler- 
able here  to  our  modem  ears.     See  I,  ii,  143. — Ed. 

65.  The  fiill  supremacie]  Dyce  {Remarks,  p.  247)  :  Read,  with  the  other 
modern  editors.  Thy.  In  such  a  case  as  this  the  authority  of  the  old  eds.  is  natJking, 
— [I  protest.     Not  for  the  sake  of  upholding  the  old  editions,  but  because  I  believe 

*  7^e  full  supremacy '  to  be  the  better  reading, — by  far  the  better  reading.  The 
emphasis  lies  on  '  full.'  *  The  full '  should  be  pronounced  as  the  perfect  iambus 
which  it  is,  with  the  lightest  possible  utterance  of  *  The ' :  *Th'  full.'  To  change  it 
to  *  Thy  full '  converts  it  to  a  spondee,  takes  the  emphasis  from  *  full,'  and  (which  is 


ACT  III,  sc,  xii.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA  229 

How  much  you  were  my  Conqueror,  and  that 

My  Sword,  made  weake  by  my  affection,  would  75 

Obey  it  on  all  caufe. 

Cleo.     Pardon,  pardon. 

Ant.     Fall  not  a  teare  I  fay,  one  of  them  rates 
All  that  is  wonne  and  lofl  :  Giue  me  a  kifle, 
Euen  this  repayes  me.  80 

We  fent  our  Schoolemafter,  is  a  come  backe  ? 
Loue  I  am  full  of  Lead  :  fome  Wine 
Within  there,  and  our  Viands  :  Fortune  knowes. 
We  fcome  her  moft,  when  moft  (he  offers  blowes.  Exeunt  84 

[Scene  XIL] 

Enter  Ccefar^  AgrippUy  and  DollabellOy  with  others. 

Ccef.     Let  him  appeare  that^s  come  from  Anthony. 
Know  you  him. 
Dolla,     Cce/arj  'tis  his  Schoolemafter,  4 

76.  on]  in  Walker  (Crii,  iii,  303).  '85,  Ran. 

cau/e]  causes  Cap.  Walker.  Scene   XII.    Dyce,   Sta.   Glo.  Cam. 

77.  Pardon"]  O,  pardon  Theob,  +  ,  Scene  VII.  Rowe.  Scene  VIII.  (mis- 
Rdy.  print)  Pope,  Warb.  Johns.     Scene  IX. 

78.  /ay,]  say;  Pope  ct  seq.  (subs.)  Han.     Scene  X.  Cap.  et  cet. 

80-83.  Euen  ,,.  knowes]    Lines  end,  Caesar's  Camp.  Rowe.    A  Camp  in 

sekoolmaster,  ...  lead;  ...  knowes,   Han.  Egypt*    Caesar's  Tent  Cap. 

Cap.  et  seq.  I.  Dollabello]  F,. 

80.  me]  Om.  Ff,  Rowe.  ...  with    others.]     Thidias,    with 

81.  a  come]  F,Fj.  he  come  F^  et  others.  Rowe.  Thjrreus,  with  others, 
sieq.  Theob. 

82.  Lead:]  lead.  Coll.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  2.  from]  for  Ff. 
Cam.  3.  Know]  Know  F,. 

83.  Within]  Om.  Han.  Cap.  Var.  '78,  4.  Schoolemajler]  soothsayer  Gar. 

of  importance),  weakens,  when  repeated,  the  emphatic  force  of  *Thy'  in  the  next 
line. — Ed.] 

76.  cause]  Abbott  (§  453)  :  If  the  diphthong  *  cause'  be  pronounced  as  a  dis- 
syllable, the  difficulty  [in  the  scansion  of  the  line]  will  be  avoided.  *  P&rdon,  p4r- 
don  *  is,  perhaps,  an  instance  of  two  consecutive  trochees.  (There  seems  no  ground 
for  supposing  that  'pardon '  is  to  be  pronounced  as  in  French.)  [Is  not  Capell's 
emendation, ratif^'j,  upheld  by  Walker  [Crit,  iii,  303)  'for  granmiar's  sake,'  far  pref- 
erable to  the  pronunciation  ca-use? — Ed.] 

78.  Fall  not  a  teare]  Abbott  (§291)  includes  <  fall '  in  a  list  of  intransitive  verbs 
which  are  sometimes  converted  into  transitive.  FrAnz  ($476,  c.)  explains  this  con- 
version by  detecting  in  the  verb  a  causative  force,  as  in  the  present  passage ;  and 
again  in  the  verb  '  quail,'  V,  ii,  104. 

78.  rates]  Staunton  :  That  is,  counts  for,  is  equivalent  to. 

I.  Agrippa]  Collier  :  Agrippa  does  not  appear  to  have  been  on  the  stage. 


230  THE   TR  AGED  IE  OF  [act  hi.  sc.  xii. 

An  argument  that  he  is  pluckt,  when  hither  5 

He  fends  fo  poore  a  Pinnion  of  his  Wing, 
Which  had  fuperfluous  Kings  for  Meflengers, 
Not  many  Moones  gone  by. 

Enter  Ambajfador  from  Anthony. 

Cctfar.    Approach,  and  fpeake.  10 

Amb.     Such  as  I  am,  I  come  from  Anthony : 
I  was  of  late  as  petty  to  his  ends. 
As  is  the  Morne-dew  on  the  Mertle  leafe 
To  his  grand  Sea.  14 

9.  Ambaffador]  Euphronius.  Cap.  ct  -dew  Ktly  conj. 

8cq.   Soothsayer.  Gar.   Freedman,  Eros.  13.  MertU  Uafe\  MyrtU  UafY ^,  Atyr- 

Kemble.  tie  Leaf  F^.    myrtU-leaf  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo. 

II.  Amb.]  Eup.  Cap.  Cam.  Ktly. 

13.  Morne-dew]  F^Fj.   Mom  dew  F^,  14.  his']  ike  Han.  Johns.  Wh.  i,  Huds. 

Cap.   mom-dew  Rowe  et  cet   morning-  this  Tyrwhitt,  Ktly. 


9.  Ambassador]  Capell  (i,  40) :  Finding  a  name  [Euphronius]  in  Plutarch  for 
[this  Ambassador]  that  is  more  determinate,  it  seemM  not  amiss  to  give  it  him  here. 
[See  Plutarch,  Appendix.] 

14.  To  his  grand  Sea]  Tyrwhitt  :  To  whose  grand  sea  ?  I  know  not.  Per- 
haps we  should  read :  *  To  this  grand  sea.'  We  may  suppose  that  the  sea  was  within 
view  of  Cesar's  camp,  and  at  no  great  distance. — Capell  (i,  40)  :  Meaning — the 
sea  that  he  (the  dew-drop)  arose  from.  [Steevens,  also,  gives  this  meaning,  and 
adds,  *"his"  is  used  for  its,'] — Steevkns:  «  His  grand  sea*  may  mean  his  *full 
tide  of  prosperity.'  So,  in  j  Hen.  VI:  IV,  viii,  54  :  *  You  are  the  fount  that  makes 
small  brooks  to  flow  ;  Now  stops  thy  spring ;  my  sea  shall  suck  them  dry.  And  swell 
so  much  the  higher  by  their  ebb.'     Again,  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen^  I,  iii,  6  : — 

•  though  I  know  His  ocean  needs  not  my  poor  drops,  yet  they  Must  yield  their  tribute 
there.'     Toilet  offers  a  further  explanation  of  the  change  proposed  by  Tyrwhitt: 

*  Alexandria,  towards  which  Oesar  was  marching,  is  situated  on  the  coast  of  the 
Mediterranean  sea,  which  is  sometimes  called  mare  magnum.  Sir  John  Maundeville 
[Cap.  xlvii.]  calls  that  part  of  the  Mediterranean  which  washes  the  coast  of  Palestine, 
'  the  grete  see.' — Ritson  :  If  « his '  be  not  used  for  i/j,  Shakespeare  has  made  a  per- 
son of  •  mom-drop.' — R.  G.  White  (ed.  i)  :  *  His,'  in  my  judgement  is  a  manifest 
typographical  error.  Hanmer  corrected  it.  But  of  late  years  *  his  *  has  been  retained 
on  the  supposition  that  it  alludes  to  the  sea  as  the  origin  of  the  dew-drop  !  [In  his 
ed.  ii,  White  retains  *his,'  without  comment.]—- Walker,  bodi  in  his  Crit.  i,  314 
and  in  his  Crit.  iii,  303,  approves  of  the  instead  of  *  his  * ;  at  the  latter  place, 
he  quotes,  in  support  of  his  approval,  the  same  passage  that  Steevens  quoted  from 
The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  ;  and  in  a  footnote  Lettsom,  Walker's  editor,  strenuously 
upholds  the.  *  It  is  astonishing,*  he  says,  *  that,  though  this  obvious  blunder  was 
corrected  by  Hanmer,  more  than  a  century  ago,  it  has  maintained  itself  in  all  the 
editions,  except  Johnson's,  that  I  have  consulted.  Steevens,  even,  has  defended 
his  by  quoting  the  very  passage  which  Walker  here  compares  on  account  of  the 
similarity  in  the  sense.     But  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  we  have  a  metaphor ;  in 


ACT  III,  sc.  xii.]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  23 1 

Ccb/.     Bee*t  fo,  declare  thine  office.  1 5 

Atnb.     Lord  of  his  Fortunes  he  falutes  thee,  and 

Requires  to  liue  in  Egypt,  which  not  granted 

He  Leffons  his  Requefts,  and  to  thee  fues 

To  let  him  breath  betweene  the  Heauens  and  Earth 

A  priuate  man  in  Athens  :  this  for  him.  20 

Next,  Cleopatra  does  confeffe  thy  Greatneffe, 

Submits  her  to  thy  might,  and  of  thee  craues 

The  Circle  of  the  Ptolotnies  for  her  heyres. 

Now  hazarded  to  thy  Grace. 

C(Bf.     For  Anthonyy  25 

I  haue  no  eares  to  his  requeft.     The  Queene, 

15.  Be^f^  Ff,  Rowc,  +  ,  Dycc,  Sta.         Gar. 
Glo.  Cam.     Be  it  Cap.  ct  cct  19.  breathl  F,,  Rowe,  Cap.     hreathe 

17.  Egypt ^"l    Egypt;   Rowe   ct  seq.         FjF^  ct  cct 

(sabs.)  23.  heyres\  heirs  F^F^. 

18.  LeJfoni\  Leffens  Ff.  24.  Grace"]  Gace  F,. 
Requefts.,  Jo  thee]  request. . .of  thee 

Ant.  &*  Cleop.^  a  simile,  liad  the  case  been  reversed,  the  writer  of  the  passage  in 
the  former  play  would  necessarily  have  said,  '*  He  no  more  needs  me  than  the  ocean 
needs  a  few  drops" ;  while  Shakespeare  would  have  said,  just  as  necessarily,  **I  am 
a  dew-drop  to  his  grand  sea."  ' — [There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  sentence  is  intelli- 
gible. Hanmer*s  emendation  is,  I  think,  logically  just.  It  is  extremely  probable 
that  the  error  is  Shakespeare's.  But  it  is  one  which  demands  some  little  mental 
analysis  to  detect  and  correct,  in  which,  if  we  indulge,  while  sitting  at  the  play, 
Enphronias  will  have  delivered  his  message  and  departed  before  we  have  settled 
the  propriety  of  his  opening  speech.  And  there  are  minds  of  a  cast  so  ignoble  as  to 
prefer,  where  the  sense  is  perfectly  obvious,  an  incorrect  word  of  Shakespeare  to  a 
correct  one  of  Hanmer. — Ed.] 

17.  Requires]  Deighton:  This  verb  is  seldom  used  in  Shakespeare  in  the 
peremptory  sense  the  word  would  now  have  in  such  a  context ;  compare  Hen.  VIII: 
11,  iv,  144,  *  Most  gracious  sir,  In  humblest  manner  I  require  your  highness.  That 
it  shall  please  you  to  declare,*  etc.,  said  by  Wolsey  to  the  king. 

17.  which  not  granted]  See  Abbott  (§377)  for  other  instances  of  the  use  of  the 
participle  *  to  express  a  condition,  where,  for  perspicuity  we  should  now  mostly  insert 
•*  if."  '     See  « not  petty  things  admitted,'  V,  ii,  169. 

18.  He  Lessons]  Thiselton  (p.  20) :  *  Lessons '  is  undoubtedly  Shakespeare's 
word  here  in  the  sense  of  schools  or  disciplines.     The  initial  capital  indicates  an 
emphasis  which  the  feeble  lessens  would  hardly  carry,  but  which  the  metaphorical 
« Lessons'  carries  easily.     The  fact  that  the  ambassador  is  on  this  occasion  a  school- 
master should  have  been  sufficient  to  have  warded  off  the  sacrilegious  hand  of  the 
«mendator. 

23.  The  Circle  of  the  Ptolomies]  Johnson:  The  diadem;  the  ensign  of 
toyalty. 

24.  hmsarded]  Schmidt  (Z^x.)  :  That  is,  staked  and  lost  to  thee,  as  at  gaming. 


232 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  m,  sc  xiL 


Of  Audience,  nor  Defire  (hall  faile,  fo  (hee 
From  Egypt  driue  her  all-difgraced  Friend, 
Or  take  his  life  there.    This  if  (hee  performe, 
She  (hall  not  fue  vnheard.     So  to  them  both. 

Amb.     Fortune  purfue  thee. 

Ccef,     Bring  him  through  the  Bands  : 
To  try  thy  Eloquence,  now  'tis  time,  difpatch, 
From  Anthony  winne  Cleopatra^  promife 
And  in  our  Name,  what  (he  requires,  adde  more 
From  thine  inuention,  offers.     Women  are  not 
In  their  beft  Fortunes  (Irong ;  but  want  will  periure 
The  ne're  touchM  Veftall.     Try  thy  cunning  Thidias^ 
Make  thine  owne  Edi£l  for  thy  paines,  which  we 
Will  anfwer  as  a  Law. 


27 


30 


35 


40 


29.  This\  This,  Rowc,  Pope. 

31.  thee,^  th€€  I  Theob.  ct  seq.  thee^ 
Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

33.  Bands  .■]  bands.  Han.  Cap.  et  seq. 
[Exit  Ambassador.  Rowe.  Exit 
Euphronius,  attended.  Cap. 

33.  [To  Thidias.  Rowe,  Pope.  To 
Thyreus.  Theob.  ct  seq. 

new  ^tis  time\  nirufs  the  time  Cap. 
conj. 

time^  time  ;  Theob.  Warb.  et  seq. 

difpatch^  dispatch  :  Cap.  Var.  '78 
et  seq.  (subs.) 

34.  Qeopatra,    promife'\     Cleopatra 


Rowe  ii.  CleoptUra, promise,  Pope,  Han. 
Cleopatra  t  promise  ;  Theob.  Warb.  Cleo- 
patra ;  promise^  Johns.  Cap.  et  seq. 

35.  ^ame,"]  name;  Han. 
what"}  when  Ff,  Rowe,+. 

35 »  36.  more  From'\  more;  Frame 
Kinnear. 

36.  From  thine  inuention,  offers."]  As 
thine  invention  offers,  Han.  [From  thine 
invention)  offers.  "Warb.  Offers  from 
thine  invention.  Ktly,  Huds. 

38.  ne're  touched]  nier'touck*d  Pope 
et  seq. 

Thidias]  Thyreus  Theob.  et  seq. 


27.  nor  Desire]  See  Abbott  (§  396)  for  other  examples  of  the  *  ellipsis  oi  Neither 
before  Nor.^ 

35,36.  adde  more  From  thine  inuention,  offers]  Walker  {^Crit.  i,  253): 
Read  :  *  and  more.  From  thine  invention,  offer.^—K.  G.  White  (ed.  i) :  The  inver. 
sion  in  this  sentence  is  so  distracting  and  so  needless,  that  it  seems  to  me  quite  prob- 
able, at  least,  that  there  has  been  accidental  transposition,  and  that  Shakespeare  may 
have  written  : — *  promise  What  she  requires ;  and  in  our  name  add  more  Ofiezs  from 
thine  invention.*— [See  Text.  Notes,  for  the  text  of  Keichtley  and  Hudson. 
White  (ed.  ii)  retained  the  text  of  the  Folio,  with  the  remark  that  it  b  «a  fine 
example  of  Shakespeare's  utter  recklessness  in  the  use  of  language.'] — Dkighton  r 
The  position  of  *  offers '  seems  to  be  intentionally  emphatic 

38.  Thidias]  Theobald,  here  and  throughout,  changed  this  name  to  Thyreus, 
on  no  other  authority  than  because  the  name  of  the  ambassador  is  so  given  in  Nortfa*s 
Plutarch  ;  and  he  has  been  herein  followed  by  every  editor. — Ed. 

39,  40.  Make  thine  owne  Edidt  . .  .  answer  as  a  Law]  Deighton  :  That  is, 
fix  your  own  reward,  if  you  succeed,  and  I  will  consider  its  payment  as  binding  upon 
me  as  a  law. 


ACT  ni.  sc.  xiu.]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  233 

Tkid.     Ccefarj  I  go.  41 

Ccefar.     Obferue  how  Anthony  becomes  his  flaw, 

And  what  thou  think'ft  his  very  a£tion  fpeakes 

In  euery  power  that  mooues. 

Thid.     Ca/ary  I  (hall.  exeunt.  45 

[Scene  XIIL] 

Enter  Cleopatra j  EnobarbuSj  Ckarmian^&  Iras. 
Cleo.     What  fhall  we  do,  Enobarbiis  ? 
Eno.     Thinke,  and  dye.  3 

41.  45.  Thid.]  Thyr.  Theob.  et  seq.  Scene  VIII.  Rowe.    Scene  IX.  Pope, 

42.  flaw^  Yiy  Rowe,  Pope,  Han.  Coll.  Warb.  Johns.  Scene  X.  Han.  Act  IV. 
Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  flaw;  Theob.  Sc.  i.  Coll.  (MS).  Scene  XI.  Cap.  et  cet. 
et  cet  Alexandria.  Rowe.   A  Room  in  the 

43.  tkinkfl'\  thinkeft  Ff,  Rowe.  Palace.  Cap. 

45.  exeunt.]  Exent.  F,.  2.  </<?]  Om.  Steev.  conj. 

Scene  XIII.  Dyce,  Su.  Glo.  Cam. 

42.  how  Anthony  becomes  his  flaw]  Johnson  :  That  is,  how  Antony  conforms 
himself  to  this  breach  of  his  fortune. — Staunton:  This  is  not  very  clear. — 
Drighton  :  In  '  flaw '  there  is,  perhaps,  an  allusion  to  another  meaning  of  the  word, 
common  in  Shakespeare,  viz.  sudden  bursts  of  wind. 

45,  44.  his  very  adtion  speakes  In  euery  power  that  mooues]  Steevens  : 
So,  in  Troil,  6r»  Cress.  IV,  v,  57  :  '  her  foot  speaks ;  her  wanton  spirits  look  out  At 
every  joint  and  motive  of  her  body.* 

2.  Enobarbus]  Walker  (  Vers,  186)  :  This  name  in  this  play  is  frequently  used 
as  if  it  were  a  trisyllable,  in  whatever  way  the  anomaly  is  to  be  explained.  [See  IV, 
V,  23  ;  IV,  vi,  26;  IV,  ix,  12,  14.] 

3.  Thinke,  and  dye]  In  North's  Plutarch  mention  is  made  of  a  convivial  club, 
presumably  founded  by  Anthony  after  the  battle  of  Actium,  the  members  whereof 
agreed  that  they  would  die  together.  (See  Appendix.^  Supposing  that  an  allusion 
is  here  made  to  this  club,  Hanmer  changed  <  Thinke '  to  Drink,  an  emendation 
which  has  had  but  two  admirers  :  Warburton  and  Capell.  Both  adopted  it  in  their 
text,  and  the  latter  pronounced  it  ^most  true  and  ingenious.'  Johnson  did  '  not 
advance  it  into  the  page,  not  being  convinced  that  it  is  necessary.  "Think  and 
die" ;  that  is,  Reflect  on  your  folly  ^  and  leave  the  worlds  is  a  natural  answer.' — Tyr- 
WHITT  (p.  9)  :  I  grant  it  would  be,  according  to  [Johnson's]  explanation,  a  very 
proper  answer  from  a  moralist  or  a  divine ;  but  Enobarbus,  I  doubt,  was  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other.  He  is  drawn  as  a  plain,  blunt  soldier ;  not  likely,  however,  to 
offend  so  grossly  in  point  of  delicacy  as  Hanmer's  alteration  would  make  him.  I 
believe  the  true  reading  is  :  '  Wink,  and  die.*  When  the  ship  is  going  to  be  cast 
away,  in  The  Sea  Voyage  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  (I,  i),  and  Aminta  is  lamenting, 
Tibalt  says  to  her:  '  —  Go,  take  your  gilt  prayer-book,  and  to  your  business; 
Wink,  and  die  : '  insinuating  plainly,  that  she  was  afraid  to  meet  death  with  her  eyes 
open.  And  the  same  insinuation,  I  think,  Enobarbus  might  very  naturally  convey 
in  his  return  to  Cleopatra's  desponding  question. — Steevens  :  The  old  reading  may 


234  ^^^   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  in.  sc.  xiiL 

Cleo.     Is  Anthony y  or  we  in  fault  for  this  ? 

Eno.    Anthony  onely,  that  would  make  his  will  5 

Lord  of  his  Reafon.     What  though  you  fled, 
From  that  great  face  of  Warre,  whofe  feuerall  ranges 
Frighted  each  other  ?     Why  fhould  he  follow  ? 
The  itch  of  his  Affeflion  fhould  not  then 
Haue  nickt  his  Captain-fhip,  at  fuch  a  point,  10 

6.  though]    aithougk    Pope,   Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Cap.  Ktly.     k4^  follaw*d 

Han.  Warb.  Stccv.  Var.  '03,  *  13,  Ktly.  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

8.  a/'A^/']<>/>4/r,Coll.  Wh.  Cam.  Hal.  lo.  Captain-Jkip^captainship.^om^ 

Ktly.  captainship  Pope,   Han.      captainship; 

follow  /*]  follow  you  Pope,  Theob.  Theob.  Warb.  et  seq. 


be  supported  by  the  following  passage  in  Julius  Otsar :  *  all  that  he  can  do  Is  to 
himself,  take  thought,  and  die  for  Caesar.*  [II,  i,  187.]  Toilet  observes,  that  the 
expression  of  taking  thought,  in  our  old  English  writers,  is  equivalent  to  the  being 
anxious  or  solicitous,  or  laying  a  thing  much  to  heart.  Tyrwhitt,  however,  might 
have  given  additional  support  to  his  reading  from  a  passage  in  2  Hen,  IV:  I,  iii, 
33  :  Med  his  powers  to  death  And  winking  leap*d  into  destruction.' — ^Tyrwhitt  : 
After  all  that  has  been  written  upon  this  passage,  I  believe  the  old  reading  is  right ; 
but  then  we  must  understand  think  and  die  to  mean  the  same  9&  die  of  thought,  or 
melancholy.  In  this  sense  is  thought  used  below,  IV,  vi,  43,  and  by  Holinshed, 
Chronicles  of  Ireland,  p.  97 :  *  his  father  lined  in  the  tower — where  for  thought  of 
the  young  man  his  follie  he  died,*  There  is  a  {)assage  almost  exactly  similar  in  The 
Beggar's  Bush  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  :  '  Can  I  not  think  away  myself  and  die  ? ' 
[V,  i.] — Henley:  'Think  and  die.*  Consider  what  mode  of  ending  your  life 
is  most  preferable,  and  immediately  adopt  it. — Knight  :  Here  is  a  noble  answer 
from  the  rough  soldier  to  the  voluptuous  queen.  .  .  .  We  may  here  very  safely  trust 
to  the  original. — Craik  (p.  145)  :  To  think  or  to  take  thought,  seems  to  have  been 
formerly  used  in  the  sense  of  to  give  way  to  sorrow  and  despondency. — [Possibly, 
our  most  familiar  quotation  is,  *  Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow.  * — Matthew,  vi, 
34.] — Staunton  :  Despair  and  die. — Hudson  :  This  is  equivalent  to  grieve  our- 
selves to  death. 

6.  What  though]  Walker  {Crit.  ii,  156)  Read  metri gratia,  *  What  an  though'  ; 
unless* what  although*  be  allowable,  which  I  doubt. — Staunton  (Athemtum,  26 
April,  1873)  :  Something  is  missing  from  the  line.  Perhaps—*  What  though  you, 
timorous,  fled.* 

7.  whose  seuerall  ranges]  Staunton  :  The  commentators,  perhaps,  have  a  per- 
ception of  what  this  means,  since  they  pass  it  silently ;  to  us  it  is  inexplicable,  and 
we  cannot  choose  but  look  on  *  ranges  *  as  a  misprint  for  the  rages  of  grim-visag'd 
war. — Schmidt  {Lex.)  :  *  Ranges,'  that  is,  ranks.  [Compare,  'the  wide  Arch  Of 
the  raing'd  Empire,'  I,  i,  46.] 

10.  Haue  nickt]  Steevens  :  That  is,  set  the  mark  of  folly  on  it  So,  in  The 
Com.  of  Errors,  *  and  the  while  His  man  with  scissors  nicks  him  like  a  fool.'  [V,  i, 
175. — This  passage  of  itself  does  not,  I  think,  prove  that  the  hair  of  fools  was  inten- 
tionally cut  in  nicks;  Deighton  remarks,  *it  is  only  because  Pinch's  hair  was 
cut  in  this  disfiguring  way  that  he  is  made  to  look  like  a  fool.'     At  this  same  passage 


ACT  in,  sc.  xm.]  ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  235 

When  halfe  to  halfe  the  worid  opposed,  he  being  1 1 

The  meeied  queftion  ?  Twas  a  ihanie  no  lefle 

II,  12.  ke  hemg  Tke  mutr€d\  hef;ms        Cam.   m^^wy  Bnllorh    wurtst  Kmnear. 
The  mcrtalOrgja.   mmdht  Wmstlumure        mured  MaL  d  ceL 


Wofdft.  12.  qmtfiiom  /]  fuaid&m,  Rowe  et  seq. 

12.  imeered'\  Yt,  Pope,+,  Ca{».  Vair.         (sobs.) 


do.    jKArRove.    a£kv»/ Middrd  apu  '7sMj]7IfF^    *  Tu  F,F^  Rowe. 

in  Cms.  ef  Errwrs,  MalO!CX  gnres  m  qaoCation  which  he  deems  ocmcinsiTe ;  it  is  from 
The  Ckoue  of  Ckamge  .  .  .  by  S.  R.  Gent,  1598,  ms  follows :  '  Three  things  used  by 
monks,  which  pioroke  other  men  to  langh  at  their  follies.     I.  Thcj  are  sharen  and 
Dotdied  on  the  head,  like  foolea.'     It  is  probable  that  here  *fooles*  re£eis,  not  to  the 
domestic  or  '  allowed  fools,*  bot  to  idiots.     Doucx  (ii,  323),  in  his  ezhanstire  essay 
Om  tie  Qawm  mmd  Fools  tf  Shakespeare,  sajs  that,  *  The  head  was  frequently  shaTcd 
in  imitation  or  perhaps  ridicule  of  a  monk's  crown.    Thb  practice  is  very  ancient,  and 
can  be  tnced  to  the  twelfth  centory.    In  one  insfanrr,  the  hair  exhibits  a  sort  of  triple 
or  Papal  down.'   The  relierence,  in  the  present  line,  is  a  coarse  one,  bot  then  Enobarbos 
was  of  ooane  five.     From  what  we  know  of  the  neglected  personal  habits  of  Fools, 
the  inference  is  not  strained  that  they  were  liable  to  cntaneoos  ailments,  and  of  snch 
ailments  the  only  one  that  conld  '  nick '  anything  was  the  '  itch,'  and  the  only  thii^  it 
ooold  nick  was  the  hair.     Possibly,  this  nicking  was  so  common  among  Fools  as  to 
make  the  term  almost  synonymous  with  folly.    In  the  Pathology  of  those  dajrs  all  ini- 
fating  cntaneoos  diseases  were  called  the  *  itch,'  bot  this  term  b  ix>t  now  applied  to 
affections  of  the  scalp.    In  answer  to  my  qnesdon  on  the  subject,  I  received  from  my 
friend,  Dr  L.  A.  Duhung,  an  acknowledged  aathority  on  Cutaneous  Diseases,  the  fol- 
lowing reply : — *  The  affection  referred  to,  in  the  passage  yoo  qoote  from  Antony  and 
QeopatrOt  is  not  the  itch,  or  scabies,  but,  without  question,  the  common  *'  ringworm  of 
the  scalp,"  a  frequent  and  well-defined  affection,  which  causes  the  destruction  of  the 
bair,  giving  to  the  area  invaded  a  nicked  or  cropped  appearance,  and  in  my  works  I 
describe  the  hair  (as  do  many  other  writers)  as  seeming  to  have  been  "  nibbled  off" 
It  is  due  to  a  fnngos,  and  the  sensation  of  itching  accompanies  it.' — Ed.] 

II,  12.  be  being  The  meered  qaestion]  Johnson:  «The  mered  question'  is  a 
term  I  do  not  undersUnd.  I  know  not  what  to  offer,  except  *  The  mooted  question.* 
That  is,  the  disputed  point,  the  subject  of  debate.  Afere  is  indeed  a  boundary  ;  and 
the  meered  question,  if  it  can  mean  anything,  may,  with  some  violence  of  language, 
mean,  the  disputed  boundary. -^Steey^ss  :  So,  in  Stanyhurst's  translation  of  Virgfl, 
b.  iii.  1582 :  •  Wheare  too  ioynctlye  meaHng  a  cantel  of  lulye  nccreth.'  Barrett,  in  his 
Aivearie,  1580,  interprets  a  meere-^uaik^  by  Terminalis  lapis.  « Question '  is  certainly 
the  true  reading.  So,  in  Hamlet,  I,  i :  *  —  the  king  That  was  and  is  the  question 
oi  these  wars.'— M.  Mason  :  Possibly  Shakspeare  might  have  coined  the  word 
mieered,  and  derived  it  from  the  adjective  mere  or  meer.  In  that  case,  the  meered 
question  might  mean,  the  only  cause  of  the  dispute — the  only  subject  of  the  quarreL 
— Knight  :  Mere  is  a  boundary  ;  and  to  mere  is  to  mark,  to  limit. — Collier  (ed. 
2) :  It  is  altered  to  mooted  in  the  MS;  but  as  *  mered'  may  be  taken  in  the  sense 
of  soie^  or  mere  question,  we  make  no  change.— R.  G.  White  (ed.  i)  :  It  is  quite 
possibly  a  misprint  for  mooted. — Ibid.  (ed.  ii) :  An  amazing  participial  adjective, 
Ibfmed  from  mere. — [Sorely,  in  this  note  we  hear  the  voice  of  White's  •  washer- 
woman' whose  advice  he  said  he  took  (see  his  Preface,  p.  xii)  in  the  selection  of  his 


236 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  in,  sc.  xiii. 


Then  was  his  loffe,  to  courfe  your  flying  Flagges, 
And  leaue  his  Nauy  gazing. 

Cleo.     Prythee  peace. 

Enter  the  Atnbaffadar jwith  Anthony. 

Ant.     Is  that  his  anfwer?  Amb.     I  my  Lord. 

Ant.    The  Queene  fhall  then  haue  courtefie, 
So  fhe  will  yeeld  vs  vp. 

Am.     He  fayes  fo. 

Antho.  Let  her  knoVt.  To  the  Boy  Cafar  fend  this 
grizled  head,  and  he  will  fill  thy  wiflies  to  the  brimme, 
With  Principalities. 

Cleo.    That  head  my  Lord  ? 

Ant.     To  him  againe,  tell  him  he  weares  the  Rofe 
Of  youth  vpon  him  :  from  which,  the  world  (hould  note 


13 


15 


20 


25 


1 6.  Enter. . .  ]  Enter  Antony  with  Amb. 
Rowe.  Enter  Antony  with  Euphronius. 
Cap. 

17.  M«/]  this  Ff,  Rowe. 
I7»  etc.  Amb.]  Eup.  Cap. 

18-20.  The  Queene. ,.fo.'\  Lines  end, 
Queen,,. yield, „5o,  Han.  Cap.  Steev.  Var. 

'73.  *78. 

18, 19.  The  Queene... So  Jhe]  One  line, 
Mai.  Ran.  Var.  *2I,  Coll.  Sjng.  Dyce, 
Wh.  i,  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  KUy. 

The  Queene ...  yeeld '\  One  line, 


Knt. 

18, 19.  The  Queene... vs  tffi]  One  line, 
Sta. 

2a  J/e"]  My  Lord,  he  Han.  Cap. 

21,  22.  Let  her... brimme']  Lines  end, 
knau/t.  ...head J  ...brim,  Rowe  et  seq. 

21.  knov/t]  Ff,  Rowe, +  ,  Cap.  Dyce» 
Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  know  it  then  Steer,  conj. 
know  it  Var.  *  73  et  cet. 

25.  agedne,]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han. 
again.  Johns,     again  ;  Theob.  et  cet. 


comments.  He  himself  was  too  experienced  an  editor  to  be  <  amazed '  at  Shake- 
speare*s  freedom  in  forming  participles. — Ed.] — Staunton:  Possibly,  the  entire^ 
or  sole  question;  but  the  word  reads  suspiciously. — Abbott  (§  294):  The  word 
<  meered '  is  marked  as  corrupt  by  the  Globe ;  but  perhaps  it  is  the  verb  from  the 
adjective  meere  or  mere,  which  in  Elizabethan  English  means  entire.  Hence,  *  he 
being  the  entire  question,*  f.  e.  Antony,  being  the  sole  cause  of  the  battle,  ought  not 
to  have  fled. — Elton  (p.  141)  ;  The  tillage-lands  and  cow-pastures  were  protected 
by  banks  and  fences  called  meers ;  and  the  name  in  time  came  to  mean  a  '  marking 
off*  for  any  special  purpose.  Enobarbus  applied  it  to  Antony: — *The  meered 
question.' — [If  *  meered  *  means  marked  off,  as  Elton  would  have  it,  it  seems  to 
yield  a  meaning,  if  intelligible,  at  variance  with  the  drift  of  Enobarbus's  speech.  So 
far  from  Anthony's  being  marked  off  or  excluded  from  the  question,  he  was  the  very 
soul  of  it.     I  prefer  the  interpretation  of  Mason  and  Abbott. — Ed.] 

19.  So  she  will  yeeld  vs  vp]  For  an  exposition  of  the  process  whereby  j« 
assumes  the  function  of  a  conditional  conjunction,  see  Franz,  §  413. 

21.  the  Boy  Csesar]  The  battle  of  Actium  was  fought  almost  on  Csesar*s  faiith- 
day.  He  was  bom  on  the  23rd  of  September,  B.C.  63,  and  the  battle  took  place  on 
the  31st  of  September,  B.C.  31 ;  eight  days  after  he  had  entered  his  thirty-second 
year.     Anthony  was  just  twenty  years  older, — in  his  fifty-second  year. — Ed. 


ACT  ni.  sc.  xiu.]   ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  237 

Something  particular  :  His  Coine,  Ships,  Legions,  27 

May  be  a  Cowards,  whofe  Miniflers  would  preuaile 

Vnder  the  feruice  of  a  Childe,  as  foone 

As  iWCommand  of  Ca/ar.     I  dare  him  therefore  30 

To  lay  his  gay  Comparifons  a-part, 

And  anfwer  me  declined,  Sword  againll  Sword,  32 

28.  Mim/iers\  ministries  Cap.  Ran.  31.  a-part^  apart  F^F^. 

30.  J 'M*]  Vthe  Cap.  el  seq.  32.  d<cKn'd,^   decliH*d;   Coll.    Hal. 

31.  O>mparifons'\     caparisons    Pope,  declin^  d  %va%. 
Han.  Wh.  i.  Sing.  Ktly,  Huds. 

27.  particular]  Walker  ( Crit,  iii,  304)  :  That  is,  personal,  individual.  Ford, 
Lev^s  Sacrifice^  I,  i :  'If  singular  beauty,  unimitable  virtues,  honour,  youth,  and 
absolute  goodness  be  a  fortune,  all  those  are  at  once  offered  to  your  particular 
choice.  .  .  .  The  great  and  gracious  Lady  Fiormonda  loves  you,  infinitely  loves  you.' 
[p.  16,  ed.  Dyce.] 

28.  whose  Ministers]  Capell  (i,  41,  see  Text,  Notes)  :  That  is,  ministrations, 
services  administer'd ;  but  what  the  <  ministers  of  coins^  skips^  and  legions^  may  be, 
those  gentlemen  should  (methinks)  have  informed  us,  who  have  let  the  word  stand 
in  their  several  editions. — [The  volume  containing  this  play,  although  bearing  the 
number  8,  was  only  the  second  that  Capell  sent  to  press.  It  bears  the  mark  of  his 
'prentice  hand.  After  more  experience,  he  would  not  have  emended  the  text,  and 
we  should  not  have  had  the  foregoing  note.  It  would  have  occurred  to  him  that 
<  ministers '  here  means  the  agents  who  execute  the  purposes  of  coins,  ships,  and 
legions. — Ed.] 

31,  32.  gay  Comparisons  a-part,  And  answer  me  declin'd]  Heath  (p.  460) : 
That  is,  those  pleasing  comparisons  which  Caesar  would  naturally  make  between  his 
own  circumstances  and  those  of  Antony,  resulting  from  the  advantage  he  had  so  lately 
obtained.  *  And  answer  me  declin'd'  as  I  am,  in  power  and  reputation. — Capell 
(i,  41)  :  By  'comparisons,'  are  meant — those  advantages  which  put  the  world  upon 
making  comparisons  between  Caesar  and  himself :  these  advantages,  he  dares  Caesar 
to  lay  aside  or  decline y  and  then  to  answer  him,  <  sword  against  sword.* — Johnson  : 
I  require  of  Caesar  not  to  depend  on  that  superiority  which  the  *  comparison  *  of  our 
different  fortunes  may  exhibit  to  him,  but  to  answer  me  man  to  man,  in  this  <  decline ' 
of  my  age  or  power. — [Warburton  has  a  note  to  the  same  effect,  but  its  display  of 
his  knowledge  of  Italian,  as  fanciful  as  it  is  vainglorious,  excluded  it,  I  suppose, 
from  the  pages  of  the  early  Variorums.  Malone  remarks,  *  I  have  sometimes  thought 
that  Shakespeare  wrote, — "  gay  caparisons:'  *  It  is  truly  surprising  that  Malone 
should  not  have  been  aware  that  caparisons  is  the  text  of  both  Pope  and  Hanmer.] 
— Singer  (reading  caparisons')  :  To  *  gay  caparisons '  the  next  speech  gives  as 
an  equivalent,  'unstate  his  happiness,' — let  him  take  off  his  imperial  trappings. 
*■  Declin'd '  must  mean  inclined^  sloped^  as  swords  are  sloped  one  against  another  at 
the  commencement  of  a  combat.  The  word  is  technical  and  we  have  elsewhere : — 
Trail.  &*  Cress.  IV,  v,  189,  *  hung  thy  advanc'd  sword  i'the  air.  Not  letting  it  decline 
on  the  declined.' — R.  G.  White  (ed.  i)  :  Caesar  had  made  no  comparisons  of  any 
kind,  as  may  be  seen  by  reference  to  the  single  speech  which  he  addresses  to 
Euphronius  in  the  previous  Scene.    Antony,  however,  has  more  than  once,  and 


238  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  xiii. 

Our  felues  alone  :  He  write  it  :  Follow  me.  33 

Eno.    Yes  like  enough  :  hye  battelM  Ccefar  will 
Vnftate  his  happineffe,  and  be  Stag'd  to'th'fhew  35 

Againft  a  Sworder.  I  fee  mens  Judgements  are 
A  parcell  of  their  Fortunes,  and  things  outward 
Do  draw  the  inward  quality  after  them  38 

33.  [Exit  Ant.  Rowe.     Exeunt  Ant.  G)ll.  iii.     enoughy  „,  sworder,  Var.  '73 

and  Euph.  Cap.  et  cet. 

34-42.   Yes„Joo\  Aside,  Cap.  Dycc,  34.  hye  baUeVd^kye-battePdYL 

Glo.  Cam.  KUy.  35.  tdth'^  F,.     to  th'  FjF^.  Rowe,+. 

34-36.  enough  :.,. Sworder,"]  Ff,  Rowe,  r/Ae  Hal.     to  the  Cap.  et  cet 

+  ,Cap.   enough^  „.sworder.'T>yc^ySiBt^  36-39.  Mnemonic,  Warb. 

Glo.  Cam.  Ktly.     enough! .,, sworder !  38.  quality]  qualities  CoW,  VLS, 


just  before,  alluded  to  the  youth  and  gayety  of  Octavius,  and  he  now  summons  him 
to  lay  aside  everything  but  armor  and  a  sword,  and  meet  him  face  to  face  in  single 
combat.  [In  the  next  clause]  it  seems  to  me  that  there  has  been  an  accidental  trans- 
position, and  that  we  should  read  'sword  against  sword  declined.* — [Deighton, 
RoLFE  (who  *  suspects  that  caparisons  *  is  the  true  reading),  Wordsworth,  Her- 
FORD  all  give  good  paraphrases,  but  none  is,  I  think,  better  or  more  concise  than 
Collier  (ed.  ii),  as  thus :  '  That  is,  his  gay,  youthful,  and  triumphant  condition, 
as  compared  with  me,  in  my  declined  or  fallen  state.'  Deighton  justly  says,  *  there 
is  probably  a  special  allusion  to  Antony's  declining  years  as  compared  with  Caesar*s 
youth.'  That  Anthony  refers,  not  to  Csesar's  outward  trappings,  his  caparisons ^  but 
to  immaterial  conditions,  receives  confirmation,  I  think,  from  the  words  of  Enobarbus 
when  he  derides  the  thought  that  '  the  full  Caesar  will  answer  Anthony's  emptiness.' 
That  'declin'd '  has  nothing  whatsoever  to  do  with  swords,  is  clear,  I  think,  from  its 
use  in  the  very  same  sense,  as  I  believe,  in  Caesar's  lament  over  Anthony's  death, 
where  he  says,  <  I  must  perforce  Haue  shewne  to  thee  such  a  declining  day.  Or  looke 
on  thine,'  V,  i,  47.— Ed.] 

35.  Stag'd  to'th'sbew]  Henley  :  That  is,  exhibited,  like  conflicting  gladiators, 
to  the  public  gaze. 

36.  etc.  I  see  mens  ludgements,  etc.]  Thiselton  (p.  20) :  This  speech  is 
excellently  punctuated  in  the  Folio.  Modem  editors  not  seeing  that  <  that'  in  line 
39  introduces  the  ground  of  Enobarbus'  inference  (see  Abbott,  §  284),  and  in  their 
abhorrence  of  anything  like  a  long  sentence,  place  a  full  stop  after  *  alike,'  and  a  note 
of  exclamation  after  *  emptinesse,'  and  so  weaken  the  tension  of  the  style.  It  may 
be  safely  asserted  that  no  one  can  derive  an  adequate  conception  of  the  energy  of 
Shakespeare's  style  from  the  study  of  a  modem  text — [To  follow  here  the  punctu- 
ation of  Shakespeare's  printers  is,  I  think,  to  rob  the  speech  of  its  vigour,  and  convert 
into  a  philosophic,  didactic  observation  what  was  intended  to  be  indignant  astonish- 
ment. Rowe's  dramatic  instinct  revealed  to  him  the  derision,  nay,  almost  the  con- 
tempt,  which  lay  in  the  words,  *That  he  should  dreame,'  etc.  We  hear  the  same 
indignant,  derisive  tones  in  Geopatra's  *To  say  as  I  said  then  ! '  (I,  v,  88)  ;  or  in 
*  The  way  to  lose  him ! '  (I,  iii,  14) ;  or  *  so  tart  a  fauour  To  trumpet  such  good 
tidings ! '  (II,  v,  48.)— Ed.] 

37.  A  parcell  of  their  Fortunes]  Steevens  :  That  is,  as  we  should  say  at  pres- 
ent, are  of  a  piece  with  them. 


ACT  III,  sc.  xiii.]  ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  239 

To  fuffer  all  alike,  that  he  fhould  dreame, 

Knowing  all  meafures,  the  full  Cafar  will  40 

Anfwer  his  emptineffe  ;  Cafar  thou  haft  fubduMe 

His  iudgement  too. 

Enter  a  SeruanU 

Set.     A  Meffenger  from  Cafar. 

Cleo.    What  no  more  Ceremony  ?  See  my  Women,  45 

Againft  the  blowne  Rofe  may  they  ftop  their  nofe, 
That  kneelM  vnto  the  Buds.     Admit  him  fir. 

Eno.     Mine  honefty,  and  I,  beginne  to  fquare,  48 

39.  oiiAf^  that'\  alike.  That  Rowe  ct  46.  nofe^  noses  Walker,  Huds.  Words, 

seq.  47.  [Exit  Attendant.  Gip. 

41.  emptineffe  ;'\  emptiness  !  Theoh,  ti  48.  Eno.J  Eno.  [Aside.]  Han.  Cap. 
seq.  et  seq. 

42.  iudgement  ]  judegement  F,.  fquare^  square  ;  Rowe,  + .  square, 
46.  their'\  the  Kinnear.                                  Gip.  et  seq. 

39.  To  suffer]  Staunton  :  The  verb  is  apparently  used  here  in  an  active  sense, 
meaning  to  punish  or  afflict, 

40.  Knowing  all  measures]  Collier  (Notes,  etc.  p.  497,  ed.  ii)  records  miseries 
as  the  correction  of  his  MS  and  explains  that  thereby  *  Enobarbus  refers  to  the  woe- 
fol  plight  and  prospects  of  Antony  at  the  time  he  dared  Caesar  to  "  lay  his  gay  com- 
parisons apart,"  and  meet  him  "sword  against  sword."  ' — Anon.  (Blackwood,  Oct 
p.  467,  1853)  :  That  is,  it  is  surprising  that  Antony,  who  has  experienced  every 
measure  of  fortune,  has  drunk  of  her  fullest  as  well  as  of  her  emptiest  cup,  should 
dream  that  the  full  Caesar  will  answer  his  emptiness.  Here  the  words  full  and 
emptiness  prove  to  a  demonstration  that  <  measure  *  is  the  right  word ;  yet  Collier's 
MS  alters  it  to  miseries  ! 

40.  lull]  Thidias,  line  107,  calls  Caesar  *  the  fullest  man,'  i,  e.  the  most  perfect 

46.  blowne  Rose  .  . .  their  nose]  Walker  (Crit.  iii,  305)  :  Shakespeare  would 
not  have  tolerated  this  cacophony;  besides,  the  old  grammar  requires  noses. — Lettsom 
(Footnote  to  preceding) :  Walker  is,  I  think,  mistaken  [Unquestionably. — Ed.]  in  this 
latter  observation,  though  I  agree  with  the  preceding  part  of  the  note. — Staunton 
(Athenaum^  26  Apr.  1873)  •  Walker  has  noticed  the  insufferable  cacophony  of  'rose* 
and  •  nose,*  which  assuredly  Shakespeare  would  never  have  endured.  But  his  pro- 
posal to  read  noses  is  not  a  convincing  remedy.  My  belief  is  that  the  line  originally 
stood  *  —  may  stop  their  senseJ*  That  is,  their  sense  of  smelling ;  which,  not  being 
understood,  was  changed  into  'nose.* — [Hereupon  Staunton  gives  several  quotations 
where  sense  is  applied  to  seeing,  to  hearing,  to  smelling;  the  most  apposite  is,  *  You 
smell  this  business  with  a  sense  as  cold,*  etc. —  Wint.  Tale,  II,  i.  But  it  is  to  be  doubted 
that  any  number  of  quotations  would  justify  a  change  of  the  text.  The  cacophony 
may  be  possibly  softened,  if,  in  reading  the  line,  the  emphasis  be  strongly  laid  on 
•  blown ' : — *  Against  the  blown  rose  may  they  stop  their  nose.*  Was  it  not  for  this 
purpose  that  Shakespeare  threw  the  ictus  on  *  blown '  ? — Ed.  ] 

47.  Admit  him  sir]  An  instance  of  the  use  of  *  sir  *  in  addressing  persons  of 
humble  rank. — Ed. 

48.  beg^inne  to  square]  Peck  (p.  224)  is  reluctant  to  accept  for  'square'  the 


240 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  III,  sc  xiii. 


The  Loyalty  well  held  to  Fooles,  does  make 
Our  Faith  meere  folly  :  yet  he  that  can  endure 
To  follow  with  Allegeance  a  falne  Lord, 
Does  conquer  him  that  did  his  Mafter  conquer, 
And  eames  a  place  i'th'Story. 

Enter  Tkidias. 

Cleo.     Ccefars  will. 

Thid.     Heare  it  apart. 

Cleo.     None  but  Friends  :  fay  boldly. 

Thid.     So  haply  are  they  Friends  to  Anthony. 

Enob.     He  needs  as  many  (Sir)  as  C(sfar  ha's, 


50 


55 


59 


49.  The\  Th(^  Theob.  Han. 
53.  »»M»]  iUhe  Cap.  et  scq. 
55.  wilL'\  will?  Theob.  et  seq. 


57.  None^  None  here  Han. 
ncne  Ktly.     No  one  Walker. 
/ay\  say  on  Cap. 


Her^s 


de6nition  quarrel^  and,  after  quoting  passages  from  Mid.  M,  Dream,  Wmt,  Tale, 
and  TU.  And,  wherein  the  word  occurs  in  that  sense,  and  in  each  instance  pro- 
posing jar,  or  squall  as  a  substitute,  quotes  the  present  passage,  and  observes, 
'Yet,  upon  the  whole,  perhaps  Shakespeare  never  wrote  "square"  to  express  a 
quarrel.  For  I  am  sometimes  inclined  to  think  he  wrote,  in  most  of  these  places, 
sparre.'*     Be  it  remembered  that  Peck  wrote  in  1740. — Ed. 

49.  The  Loyalty  well  held  to  Fooles,  etc.]  Theobald  :  After  Enobarbos  has 
said,  that  hb  honesty  and  he  begin  to  quarrel,  (f .  e.  that  his  reason  shews  him  to  be 
mistaken  in  his  firm  adherence  to  Antony)  he  iounediately  falls  into  this  generous 
reflection  :  '  Tho'  lo3ralty,  stubbornly  preserved  to  a  master  in  his  declined  fortunes, 
seems  folly  in  the  eyes  of  fools ;  (t.  e.  men,  who  have  not  honour  enough  to  think 
more  wisely),  yet  he,  who  can  be  so  obstinately  loyal,  will  make  as  great  a  figure  on 
record,  as  the  conqueror.*  I  therefore  read :  '  Thd  loyalty,  well  held,  to  fools  does 
make  Our  faith  mere  folly,'  etc. — Johnson  :  I  have  preserved  the  old  reading : 
Enobarbus  is  deliberating  upon  desertion,  and  finding  it  is  more  prudent  to  forsake  a 
fool  and  more  reputable  to  be  faithful  to  him,  makes  no  positive  conclusion. — Capexx 
(i,  41)  :  The  change  of  *  The'  \vXo—Tho^,  robs  this  speech  of  it's  greatest  beauty  ; 
by  destroying,  or  lessening  at  least,  that  air  of  unsettledness  that  is  much  more  visible 
in  it  when  the  propositions  are  not  connected :  a  good  speaker  would  shew  this, 
sooner  than  words  ;  by  making  a  pause  after  '  folly,'  and  pronouncing  'yet'  with  mn 
ictus,  with  the  force  of — and  yet. 

53.  a  place]  Staunton  :  That  is,  a  seat  of  dignity. 

59.  Enob.  He  needs  as  many,  etc.]  Malone  :  I  suspect  that  this  speech  belongs 
to  Cleopatra,  not  to  Enobarbus.  Printers  usually  keep  the  names  of  the  persons,  who 
appear  in  each  scene,  ready  composed  ;  in  consequence  of  which,  sp>eeches  are  often 
attributed  to  those  to  whom  they  do  not  belong.  Is  it  probable  that  Enobaibns 
should  presume  to  interfere  here  ?  The  whole  dialogue  naturally  proceeds  betwecni 
Cleopatra  and  Thyreus,  till  Enobarbus  thinks  it  necessary  to  attend  to  his  own 
interest,  and  says  what  he  speaks  when  he  goes  out.  The  plural  number  (aa), 
which  suits  Cleopatra,  who  throughout  the  play  assumes  that  royal  style,  strengthens 


ACT  III,  sc.  xiii.]   ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  241 

Or  needs  not  vs.     If  Ccefar  pleafe,  our  Mafter  60 

Will  leape  to  be  his  Friend  :  For  vs  you  know, 
Whofe  he  is,  we  are,  and  that  is  Cafars. 

ThidSo.  Thus  then  thou  moft  renownM,  Ca/ar  intreats, 
Not  to  confider  in  what  cafe  thou  ftand'ft 
Further  then  he  is  Ccefars.  65 

61.  F(i>r  vs  you"]  For  as  you  ¥(,  Kowe,        et  seq.  (subs.) 

Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  63.  intreats']  entreats  Cap.  Mai.  Stee^. 

62.  that  w]   that^s  Pope,  + ,   Steev.         ct  seq.     entreats  thee  Ktly. 

Varr.  Coll  Sing.  Wh.  i.  65.  Cafars.]  Casar's.  Mai.  Ran.  Var. 

63.  .S^.]  Separate  line.  Pope  et  seq.  '21,  Coll.  i.     Ca/ar,  Ff  et  cet 
renorvn^df']  renowned ;  Han.  Cap. 

my  conjecture.  The  words,  '  our  master/  it  may  be  said,  are  inconsistent  with  this 
supposition ;  but  I  apprehend,  Cleopatra  might  have  thus  described  Antony,  with 
sufficient  propriety.  They  are  afterwards  explained:  'Whose  he  is,  «v  are.* 
Antony  was  the  master  of  her  fate. — Steevens  :  Enobarbus,  who  is  the  buffoon  of 
the  play,  has  already  presumed  to  interfere  between  the  jarring  Triumvirs,  and  might 
therefore  have  been  equally  flippant  on  the  occasion  before  us.  For  this  reason,  as 
well  as  others,  I  conceive  the  speech  in  question  to  have  been  rightly  appropriated 
in  the  old  copy.  What  a  diminution  of  Shakspeare's  praise  would  it  be,  if  four  lines 
that  exactly  suit  the  mouth  of  Enobarbus,  could  come  with  equal  propriety  from  the 
lips  of  Qeopatra ! 

6a  Or  needs  not  vs]  Heath  (p.  461) :  The  poet's  meaning  is  this:  In  his 
present  fortune  Antony  needs  as  many  friends  as  Caesar  hath,  or  else  he  needs  not 
even  us,  whose  small  number  and  want  of  power  render  us  incapable,  without  other 
assistance,  of  being  of  any  service  to  him.  If  Csesar  so  pleases,  our  master  will  leap 
to  be  his  friend;  for,  as  you  know  very  well,  though  we  are  indeed  our  master's 
friends,  yet  both  he  and  we  are  at  present  pretty  much  at  Caesar's  discretion. 

6a  Or  needs  not  vs.  If  Caesar  please,]  Warburton  :  All  sense  is  lost  in  this 
£dse  pointing,  which  should  be  reformed  thus :  *  Or  needs  not  us  if  Caesar  please.' 
That  is,  while  he  is  at  enmity  with  Caesar  he  needs  a  power  equal  to  Caesar's ;  but 
if  he  pleases  to  receive  Antony  into  his  friendship  he  will  then  want  no  other  sup- 
port. This  is  sensible  and  polite. — [For  all  its  sense  and  politeness,  no  editor  or 
commentator  has  paid  any  attention  to  it.] 

61.  For  vs  you  know]  Capell  (i,  41.  See  Text.  Notes.)  :  Upon  reading  this 
speech  in  former  editions,  the  annotator  was  struck  with  seeing,  in  the  last  line  but 
one,  a  consequence  drawn  from  premises  that  can  never  fairly  be  made  to  yield  it : 
he  observed  too,  that  the  causal  particle  *  For  *  was  printed  with  a  great  letter ;  and — 
concluding  from  both  these  circumstances,  that  no  consequence  was  intended, — 
thought  rashly  that  « For'  was  a  mistake,  and  to  be  amended  by — Or:  But,  looking 
into  the  folio's  again,  while  this  note  was  in  penning,  he  found  a  word  in  the  first 
of  them  (overslipt  in  collation)  that  makes  amendment  unnecessary,  and  even  injuri- 
ous; for  by  reading,  as  that  does,—*  For  us,*  (i.  e.  As  for  us,)  this  member  of  the 
speech  has  another  aspect,  and  is  so  clear  as  to  need  no  explaining. — [Which,  being 
interpreted,  means  that  he  withdraws  the  emendation  in  his  text :  Or^  as.] 

65.  Further  then  he  is  Caesars]  *  Caesars '  is  as  clearly  a  misprint  here  as  it  is 
in  « shee,  Eros,  has  Packt  Cards  with  Caesars.'— IV,  xiv,  24.  It  is  correctly  printed 
z6 


242  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi.  sc.  xiii. 

Cleo.     Go  on,  right  Royall.  66 

Thid.     He  knowes  that  you  embrace  not  Anthony 
As  you  did  loue,  but  as  you  feared  him. 

Cleo.     Oh.  69 

66.  on^  right'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  on, —        Huds. 

Right  Johns,    on  ; — right  Theob.  et  cet  68.  feared^  feared  Theob.  et  seq. 

(subs. )  69.  Oh. ]0h/  [Aside.]  Rowe, + .  Var. 

67.  fmh'ace']  embra^ dQjK^,  conj.  Ran.         '73. 

*  Caesar '  in  F,  which  has  been  followed  by  every  editor  except  three,  and  of  these  Col- 
lier (ed.  i)  is  silent,  and  Rann  is  an  echo  of  Malone,  whose  note  is  as  follows :  '  It 
has  just  been  said,  that  whatever  Antony  is,  all  his  followers  are ;  "  that  is,  Char's." 
Thyreus  now  informs  Qeopatra  that  Csesar  entreats  her  not  to  consider  herself  in  a 
state  of  subjection,  further  than  as  she  is  connected  with  Antony,  who  is  Casat^s : 
intimating  to  her  (according  to  the  instructions  he  had  received  from  Caesar,  to  detach 
Qeopatra  from  Antony),  that  she  might  make  separate  and  advantageous  terms  for 
herself.'  Rann's  note  is  as  follows :  '  Than  as  thou  art  connected  with  Antony  who 
is  now  at  Caesar's  discretion.'  Warburton,  adopting  'Caesar'  of  F,,  thus  para- 
phrases :  '  That  is,  Caesar  intreats,  that  at  the  same  time  you  consider  your  desperate 
fortunes,  you  would  consider  he  is  Caesar :  That  is,  generous  and  forgiving,  able  and 
willing  to  restore  them.'  Capell  (i,  41)  follows  thus:  *  Nor  will  Thjrreus*  address 
to  Qeopatra  be  conceiv'd  very  readily;  for,  being  a  tender  matter,  it  is  worded  with 
great  caution,  and  from  thence  it's  obscurity :  the  purport  of  it  is, — that  Caesar  would 
have  her  think,  that  she  is  in  the  hands  of  a  conqueror  ;  but  think  at  the  same  time, 
that  that  conqueror  is  Gesar,  one  unable  to  use  his  power  to  her  prejudice.* 

66.  Go  on,  right  Royall]  Daniel  (p.  82)  suggests,  with  probability,  that  'right 
Royair  belongs  to  Thidias.  If,  however,  it  is  spoken  by  Qeopatra,  as  it  now 
stands,  the  purpose  of  such  flattery  so  early  in  the  interview  is  somewhat  obscure, 
and  the  absolute  use  of  an  adjective,  *  Royall '  does  not  help  to  make  the  phrase  any 
clearer.  In  the  last  scene  of  the  play,  Caesar,  looking  on  Cleopatra's  fair  corpse,  says, 
« She  levell'd  at  our  purposes,  and,  being  royall.  Took  her  own  way.'  This  latter 
clause  has  been  interpreted  as  a  reference  to  *  Harts  Royal,'  which,  by  the  Forest 
Laws,  were  suffered  to  roam  where  they  pleased,  protected  from  all  molestation. 
To  the  majority  of  Shakespeare's  audience,  every  term  in  Venery  was  as  familiar,  I 
suppose,  as  the  names  of  vegetables.  Can  it  be  that  here,  in  'right  Royal '  there  is 
an  allusion,  readily  caught  by  the  audience,  to  •  harts  royall,'  the  undisputed  lords  of 
the  forest  ? — ^Ed. 

67.  that  you  embrace  not]  Capell  (i,  42)  :  It  does  not  seem  to  be  Thyreus* 
business,  to  insinuate— that  Antony  is  still  lov'd  by  Qeopatra :  therefore  *  embrace,' 
in  this  line,  should  \it-^mbra^d;  and  the  words  •fear'd'  and  'did  love,'  in  the 
next  line  absolutely  require  it. 

69.  Oh]  What  does  this  mean  ?  What  emotion  does  it  express  ?  It  b  the  key- 
note to  our  interpretation  of  Cleopatra's  bearing  during  this  interview.  And  how  is 
that  bearing  to  be  interpreted  ?  If  we  believe  that  she  is  here  playing  false  to 
Anthony,  this  *  Oh '  must  be  a  shudder.  If  she  is  true  to  Anthony,— and  nothii^^  in 
this  play  can  make  me  believe  otherwise, — and  is  merely,  with  consummate  skill, 
drawing  on  the  Ambassador  in  order  to  probe  to  the  bottom  Caesar's  plans  so  that 


ACT  III.  sc  xiii.]  ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA 


243 


Thid.     The  fcarre's  vpon  your  Honor, therefore  he 
Does  pitty,  as  conflrained  blemifhes, 
Not  as  deferued. 

Cleo.     He  is  a  God, 
And  knowes  what  is  mod  right.     Mine  Honour 
Was  not  yeelded,  but  Conquered  meerely. 

Eno.    To  be  fure  of  that,  I  will  aske  Anthony. \ 
Sir,  fir,  thou  art  fo  leakie 
That  we  muft  leaue  thee  to  thy  finking,  for 
Thy  deereft  quit  thee.  Exit  Enob. 

Thid.    Shall  I  fay  to  Ccefary 
What  you  require  of  him  :  for  he  partly  begges 
To  be  defir'd  to  giue.     It  much  would  pleafe  him, 
That  of  his  Fortunes  you  fhould  make  a  ftaflfe 
To  leane  vpon.     But  it  would  warme  his  fpirits 


70 


75 


80 


84 


70.  /carr^s]  fcarres  F^F^.    fears  F^. 

73.  He  is\  He^s  Walker,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

73-75.  He  ts  ..,  ineerely'\  Lines  end, 
right, ... meerly  Rowe.  Lines  end,  knows 
...yielded^ ,., meerly  Pope  et  seq. 

76.  Eno.]  Eno.  [Aside.]  Han.  Cap. 
et  seq. 

76,77.  To  be.,, leakie^  Lines  end, /Atf/, 
„Jeaiy  Pope  et  seq. 

77.  Sir^  Jir,  thou  art'\   Sir,  thou'rt 


Pope,  Thcob.  Han.  Waib.  Sir^  sir,  thou^rt 
Steev.  Varr.  Coll.  Sing.  Wh.  i,  HaL 

78.  to'\  Om.  Ff. 

81.  him  .•]  him  ?  Pope  et  seq. 

for'\  Om.  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

83.  Jhoutd"]  would  Rowe  ii,  +  ,  Varr. 
Ran. 

84-86.  To  leane ...  Land-lord "]  Lines 
end,  upon,  ,.,  me  .,.  yourself,,,  landlord 
Johns.  Var.  '73. 


she  can  protect  Anthony  and  herself,  then  this  <  Oh  *  is  shocked  surprise,  inadvertently 
escaping  from  her  at  the  bare  suggestion  that  she  feared  Anthony  more  than  she  loved 
him, — Anthony !  for  whom  her  love  was  without  a  bourn  I  With  whatever  tone  it 
was  uttered,  the  Ambassador  was  quick  to  interpret  it  not  otherwise  than  as  a  con- 
6rmation  of  his  insinuation. — Ed. 

72,  73.  Not  as  deserued.  He  is  a  God]  Walker  ( Crit.  iii,  305)  suggests 
that  the  'deserved'  of  the  Folio  be  retained  and  that  H^s  be  read  for  «He  is.* — 
[Attempts  to  force  broken  lines  into  r^jular  rhythm  deserve,  I  think,  but  little  heed; 
for  actors  they  are  valueless.  In  the  present  case,  which  is  the  better  emphasis : 
•  He's  a  God^  implying  astonishment,  and  that  the  knowledge  of  Caesar's  divinity 
has  just  dawned  on  the  speaker ;  or  *  He  is  a  God,*  implying  that  Caesar's  divinity  is 
well-known,  and  that  in  this  reluctant  assent  lies  a  fresh  and  convincing  proof  of  it  ? 
—Ed.] 

78,  79.  for  Thy  deerest  quit  thee]  Staunton,  by  referring  to  his  note  on  « For 
yon  sink'  (H,  vii,  69),  intimates  that  the  present  *for*  is  the  same  as  the  *for*  in 
that  passage  and  that  both  should  be  printed  *fore,  I  doubt  it  in  both  cases,— in  the 
piesent  case,  emphatically.  By  the  manner  in  which  Qeopatra  was  at  that  very 
minute  receiving  Thidias,  Enobarbus  imagined  that  he  saw  proof  that  she  had 
already  'quit*  Anthony. — En.] 

84.  spirits]   Possibly,  Walker's  rule  as  to  the  monosyllabic  pronunciation  of 


244 


THE   TRACE  DIE  OF 


[act  III,  sc.  xiii. 


To  heare  from  me  you  had  left  Anthony^ 

And  put  your  felfe  vnder  his  (hrowd,  the  vniuerfal  Land- 

Cleo.    What's  your  name  ?  (lord. 

Thid.     My  name  is  Thidias. 

Cleo.     Mod  kinde  Meflenger, 
Say  to  great  Cafar  this  in  difputation, 
I  Idfle  his  conqu'ring  hand  :  Tell  him^  I  am  prompt 


85 


90 


86.  Jhrcwd^  shroud  Theob.  ii,  Warb. 
Johns.  Var.  '73.  shrowd,  the  great  Han. 
Gip.  shrewdy  who  is  Co\L  ii,  iii  (MS), 
Kdy,  Huds.     stewardship  Bulloch. 

86,  87.  the  vniuerfal  Land\lord^ 
Separate  line,  Han.  Cap.  Var.  '78  et 
seq. 

Land'{lord'\  Landlord  (oppo- 
site line  89),  F,. 


^,  Thidias]  Thyreus  Theob.  et  seq. 

90.  this  in  di/putation^']  Ff,  Rowe, 
Pope,  this  ;  in  deputation  Theob.  Han. 
Warb.  Johns.  Cap.  Ran.  Sing.  Dyce,  Wh. 
GIo.  Cam.  Ktly,  Coll.  iiL  this ;  in  dis- 
putation Var.  '78,  '85,  Mai.  Steev.  Varr. 
Knt,  Coll.  i,  Sta.  Hal.  that  in  disputation 
CoU.  ii  (MS). 

91.  I  am\  Pm  Pope,+,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 


*  spirit  •  does  not  here  apply  ;  and  yet  the  verse  seems  to  require  it  See  I,  ii,  143. 
—Ed. 

86.  And  put  your  selfie  vnder  his  shrewd]  Abbott  (§  505)  :  Lines  with  four 
accents  are,  unless  there  is  a  pause  in  the  middle  of  the  line,  very  rare.  The  fol- 
lowing, however,  seem  to  have  no  more  than  four  accents. — [Among  the  examples 
then  given  by  Abbott  is  found  the  present  line  (it  has  been  printed  as  a  separate  line 
in  eveiy  edition  since  1778),  and  it  has  seemed,  apparently,  in  Abbott's  eyes  so 
unmistakeably  of  four  accents  and  pauseless  withal,  that  he  has  queried  if  it  be  not 
corrupt.  But  is  it  pauseless  ?  Is  Thidias  so  little  of  a  diplomatist  that  he  fiuls  to  feel 
his  way  ?  His  keen  eyes  are  reading  every  emotion  that  flits  over  Qeopatra's  face. 
He  has  won  her  ear.  He  has  represented  Csesar  as  almost  cringing  before  her.  He 
has  ventured  perilously  near  to  the  assertion  that  she  bears  no  love  to  Anthony,  and 
he  has  met  no  scornful  denial ;  and  now  approaches  the  supreme  moment,  the  sole 
object  of  his  mission,  when,  with  her  own  consent,  he  is  to  get  her  into  Caesar's  power. 
'And  put  yourself,'  he  slowly  says,  and  pauses,  watching,  and  would  hare  said 

*  beyond  temptation,'  or  *  far  from  Anthony's  power,'  or  anything  else  to  that  effect, 
had  he  read  a  trace  of  cold  suspicion  in  the  eyes  before  him.  But  what  he  read  so 
far  emboldened  him  that  he  then,  and  not  till  then,  dared  complete  the  sentence, — 
'  under  his  shrowd.'  I  venture  to  hope  that  a  dramatic  necessity  is  here  shown  for  a 
pause  long  enough  to  remove  the  line  from  Abbott's  list  of  anomalies  and  to  purge 
it  from  corruption. — Ed.] 

86.  shrowd]  Derived  from  Anglo-Saxon  scrUd^  a  garment,  clothing.  Secondly, 
a  winding  sheet,  etc.  In  the  present  line  it  means  protection. — Century  Dictionary. 
[The  only  instance  given  by  Schmidt  {Lex,)  of  this  noun  thus  used.  Compare 
Milton,  Comusy  147,  where  Comus  bids  his  troop,  <  Run  to  your  shrouds  within  these 
brakes  and  trees.' — Ed.] 

90,  91.  Say  to  great  Csesar  this  in  dispuUtion,  I  kisse  his  conqu'rinc^  hand] 
Theobald  :  The  poet  certainly  wrote :  *  Say  to  great  Csesar  this ;  in  deputation  I  kiss 
his  conqu'ring  hand : '  t.  e.  by  proxy ;  I  depute  you  to  pay  him  that  duty  in  my  name. 
— [Warburton  reprinted  this  note  in  his  edition,  word  for  word,  without  acknowledge- 


ACT  III.  sc.  xiU.]  ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  245 

To  lay  my  Crowne  at's  feete,  and  there  to  kneele.  92 

92.  at^5\   Ff,    Rowe,  +  y  Knt,  Coll.         a/ Am  Cap.  et  cet 
Sing.  Dyce,  Wh.  Sta.  Hal.  Glo.  Cam. 

ment ;  as  liis,  it  was  repeated  in  subsequent  editions,  and  to  him,  as  the  author,  it  is 
always  ascribed.  The  Cam.  Ed.^  while  according  the  first  appearance  of  deputation 
in  print  to  Theobald,  attributes  its  suggestion  to  Warburton  by  printing  his  name  in 
parenthesis  after  Theobald' s.  I  suppose  that  for  this  the  editors  of  that  edition  find  their 
authority  in  what  Theobald  says  in  his  note,  which  reads  thus :  *  The  Poet  certainly 
wrote  (as  Mr  Warburton  likewise  saw,  we  must  restore),'  etc.  I  cannot  but  believe 
that  Theobald  here  means  merely  that  he  had  submitted  the  emendation  to  Warbur- 
ton and  that  the  latter  had  appxx>ved  of  it  Never  would  Theobald  have  hesitated  to 
mnnounce  the  real  authorship,  had  it  not  been  his.  It  is  true,  I  have  searched  through 
the  voluminous  correspondence  of  the  two  men  and  have  found  no  mention  of  this 
passage;  but  all  the  correspondence  has  not  been  preserved. — Ed.] — Steevsns: 
I  am  not  certain  that  this  change  is  necessary.  '  I  kiss  his  hand  in  disputation ' — 
may  mean,  I  own  he  has  the  better  in  the  controversy.  I  confess  my  inabihty  to 
dispute  or  contend  with  him.  To  dispute  may  have  no  immediate  reference  to  words 
or  language  by  which  controversies  are  agitated.  So,  in  Macbeth  :  *  Dispute  it  like 
WL  man ;  *  and  Macduff,  to  whom  this  short  speech  is  addressed,  is  disputing  or  con- 
tending with  himself  only.  Again,  in  Twelfth  Night :  '  For  though  my  soul  disputes 
well  with  my  sense.'  If  Warburton's  change  be  adopted,  we  should  read — *  by 
deputation.' — M.  Mason  :  I  have  no  doubt  but  deputation  is  the  right  reading. 
Steevens  having  proved,  with  much  labour  and  ingenuity,  that  it  is  but  by  a  forced  and 
ttimatural  construction  that  any  sense  can  be  extorted  from  the  words  as  they  stand. 
^-BCalonb:  I  think  Warburton's  conjecture  extremely  probable.  The  objection 
founded  on  the  particle  in  being  used,  is,  in  my  apprehension,  of  little  weight  Though 
ty  deputation  is  the  phraseology  of  the  present  day,  the  other  might  have  been  com- 
mon in  the  time  of  Shakspeare.  I  have  found  no  example  of  in  deputation  being 
VMd  in  the  sense  required  here. — Collier  (ed.  i)  :  As  a  clear  meaning  is  afforded 
by  ^disputation,'  in  the  sense  of  controversy,  or  contest,  we  adhere  to  the  text  of  all 
the  old  editions.  At  the  same  time  the  plausibility  of  Warburton's  change  is  not  to 
be  disputed. — Ibid.  (ed.  ii)  :  Warburton's  suggestion  is  fully  confirmed  by  the  MS 
which  adds  that  we  must  also  read  that  for  *  this '  of  the  old  copies. — Staunton  : 
We  are  of  opinion  that,  as  in  II,  vii,  8,  disposition  was  misprinted  'disputation,'  the 
reciprocal  error  has  been  perpetrated  here,  and  that  the  poet  wrote  *  in  disposition^* 
that  is,  in  inclination,  willingly,  [Staunton  has  misquoted  his  own  note  at  II,  vii, 
8,  where  the  text  is  *  disposition,'  which  he  conjectured  should  be  disputation."] — 
R.G.  White  (ed.  i)  :  For  obvious  reasons  I  have  no  hesitation  in  adopting  Warbur- 
ton's reading. — Schmidt  [Lex.):  'Disputation'  is  perhaps  equivalent  to  'say  to 
Caesar  this,  as  the  plea  which  I  put  in.* — [It  is  not  easy  to  see  what  valid  objection 
there  can  be  to  'disputation.*  To  be  sure,  it  is  a  large  word  for  a  fair  woman's 
mouth,  but  it  was  not  too  large  for  poor  Lucretia's.  Possibly,  Geopatra  wished  to 
minimise  as  much  as  possible  the  uncomfortable  fact  that  she  had  been  actually  at 
war  with  Caesar,  so  she  called  her  warfare  a  '  disputation,'  which  it  certainly  was,  and 
a  good  deal  more ;  but  this  she  keeps  in  the  background.  Moreover, '  in  deputation ' 
is  undeniably  awkward  ;  and  besides,  can  a  kiss  be  sent  by  proxy  without  giving  it 
to  the  bearer  ?  I  ask  in  ignorance.  These  objections  are,  it  seems  to  me,  sufficient 
to  awaken  suspicion  of  any  emendation,  and  to  counsel  loyalty  to  the  Folio. — Ed.] 


246  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  xiii. 

Tell  him,  from  his  all-obeying  breath,  I  heare  93 

The  doome  of  Egypt 

Thid.     ^Tis  your  Nobleft  courfe  :  95 

Wifedome  and  Fortune  combatting  together, 
If  that  the  former  dare  but  what  it  can. 
No  chance  may  fhake  it     Giue  me  grace  to  lay 
My  dutie  on  your  hand. 

Cleo.     Your  Cce/ars  Father  oft,  •  icx> 

(When  he  hath  mus'd  of  taking  kingdomes  in) 
Beftow'd  his  lips  on  that  vnworthy  place. 
As  it  rainM  kiffes .  103 

93.  Tell  ,„  bretUh]  One  line,  Rowe,  96-98.  Mnemonic,  Warb. 

Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  loo.  oft,"]  Om.  Han.  [giving  her  hand. 

/rofn\  that  from 'Rawe^-{-,  Cap. 

aU-obeying'\   all-swaying   Anon.  lOO,  xoi.  oft,„in\  One  line,  Steev. 

ap.  Cam.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Knt,  Sing.  Ktly. 
95.  » Tis\  It  is  Han. 


93.  from  his  all-ol>e3dng  breath]  Johnson  :  <  Doom '  is  declared  rather  by  an 
aU'Commanding,  than  an  <  all -obeying  breath.'  I  suppose  we  ought  to  read — 'all- 
cbeyed  breath.' — Craik  {^Note  on  *  a  labouring  day,'  Jul.  Cas,  I,  i,  4) :  An  expressicm 
used  by  Cowper  (in  his  verses  composed  in  the  name  of  Alexander  Selkirk),  'the 
sound  of  the  church-going  bell '  has  been  passionately  reprobated  by  Wordsworth. 
'  The  epithet  church-going  applied  to  a  bell,'  observes  the  critic  (in  an  Appendix 
upon  the  subject  of  Poetic  Diction) ^  *  and  that  by  so  chaste  a  writer  as  Cowper,  is  an 
instance  of  the  strange  abuses  which  poets  have  introduced  into  their  language,  till 
they  and  their  readers  take  them  as  matters  of  course,  if  they  do  not  single  them  out 
expressly  as  matters  of  admiration.'  A  church-going  dell  is  merely  a  bell  for  church- 
going;  and  the  expression  is  constructed  on  the  same  principle  with  a  thousand 
otheis  that  are  and  always  have  been  in  familiar  use ; — such  as  a  marauding  or  a 
nght-seeing  expedition,  a  banking  or  a  house-building  speculation,  a  fox-hunting 
country,  a  lending  library,  a  fishing  village,  etc.  What  would  Wordsworth  have 
said  to  such  a  daring  and  extreme  employment  of  the  same  form  as  we  have  in  Shake- 
speare, where  he  makes  Cleopatra  say,  speaking  of  the  victorious  Caesar, — *  From  his 
all-obeying  breath  I  hear  The  doom  of  Egypt  ? '  But  these  audacities  of  language 
are  of  the  very  soul  of  poetry. 

96,  98.  Wisedome  and  Fortune  . .  .  may  shake  it]  That  is,  if,  when  wisdom 
and  chance  are  opposed,  the  former  ventures  to  exercise  all  its  power,  no  mischance 
can  thwart  it. 

98.  Giue  me  grace]  Johnson  :  Grant  me  the  favour. 

ICO.  Your  Caesars  Father]  Julius  Caesar  was  the  grand-uncle  of  OcUvius.  See 
note  on  the  relationship,  III,  vi,  7. 

loi.  taking  kingdomes  in]  Compare,  <Take  in  that  Kingdome,  and  Infranchise 
that,'— I,  i,  35,  or  « He  could  so  quickly  cut  the  Ionian  Sea  And  take  in  Troinc* — 
III,  vii,  28. 


ACT  III.  sc.  xiii.]  ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA 


247 


Enter  Anthony  and  Enobarbus. 

Ant.   Fauours?   By  loue  that  thunders.   What  art  thou 

Thid.   One  that  but  performes  (Fellow? 

The  bidding  of  the  fuUeft  man,  and  worthieft 
To  haue  command  obey'd. 

Eno.     You  will  be  whipt. 

-^/z/.Approch  there  :  ah  you  Kite.Now  Gods  &  diuels 
Authority  melts  from  me  of  late.     When  I  cried  hoa, 
Like  Boyes  vnto  a  muffe,  Kings  would  ftart  forth, 
And  cry,  your  will.     Haue  you  no  eares  ? 
I  am  Anthony  yet.    Take  hence  this  lack,  and  whip  him. 

Enter  a  Seruant. 

Eno.     'Tis  better  playing  with  a  Lions  whelpe, 


lOS 


no 


IIS 


Scene  X.  Pope,  Warb.  Johns.  Scene 
XI.  Han.  Scene  continued,  Theob.  Cap. 
et  seq. 

105.  [Seeing  Thidias  kiss  her  hand. 
Rowe. 

105.  Fauours ?"]¥(.  Favours  /  Kovre, 
+  .     Favours  J  Cap.  et  seq. 

105,  106.  Fauours ^...{FfUowFI  "Lines 
end,  thunders,  ...  Fellow?  F^,  Rowe  et 
seq. 

109.  whipt '\  Ff.  whipfd  Rowe. 
[Aside.  Cap.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 

1 10.  there  .*]  there —  Rowe,  + .  there  ! 
Var.»73. 

ah'\  ay,  Steev.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll. 
Dyce,  Wh.  i,  Hal. 

KUe.'\  Kite  f  Rowe  et  seq. 
Now...diuels'\  Separate  line,  F^. 


111-114.  Authority  ...  him,'\  Lines 
end,  I.., would.., ears  f ,,, him,  Han. 

III.  me  of  UUe,  IVhen"}  Ff,  Rowe, 
Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  me  of  late  : 
when  Cap.  me.  Of  late y  when  Johns,  et 
cet. 

hoa^  ho !  Cap. 

113,  114.  And  cry,,, I am^  Ff,  Rowe, 
+  ,  Knt,  Sta.  Cam.  Separate  line.  Cap. 
et  cet. 

113.  your  will.'}  your  will?  Pope  et 
seq.  As  a  quotation,  Han.  Johns,  et 
seq. 

114.  I  am"]  Pm  Pope, +  . 

115.  Enter...]  Enter  Attendants.  Cap. 
(after  line  113). 

116.  1 17.  '  Tis ...  dying\  Aside.  Cap. 
Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 


105.  Fauours  ?]  Can  any  sufHcing  reason  be  given  why  the  astonished  interro- 
gation of  the  Folio  should  be  deserted,  as  it  is,  by  all  editors  since  Capell  ? — Ed. 

107.  the  fullest  man]  Enobarbus  also  has  already  (line  40)  spoken  of  *•  the  full 
Caesar,'  i,  e.  the  complete,  in  every  way  endowed. 

no.  ah  you  Kite]  <What  beast  was  \  that  made'  Steevens  substitute  ay  for 
this  threatening  *  ah  *  ? —  Ed. 

112.  a  musse]  '  F&re  alia  gr&ppa  piii,  to  play  at  musse,  to  shuffle  and  scramble 
for.* — Florio  ;  New  World  of  Words. — *  Groie  :  f.  A  great  quantitie,  or  number  of 
stirring,  or  stirred  things ;  whence ;  A  lagroie.  The  bo3rish  scrambling  for  nuts,  etc.; 
cast  on  the  ground ;  a  Musse. ' — Cotgrave. 

114.  this  lack]  Schmidt  (Lex,)  supplies  many  examples  of  the  use  of  'Jack' 
as  <  a  term  of  contempt  for  saucy  and  paltry,  or  silly  fellows.' 

114.  and  whip  him]  Knight  (Supp.  Notice,  p.  358)  :  This  is  partly  jealousy: 
partly  the  last  assertion  of  small  power  by  one  accustomed  to  unlimited  command. 


248  THE  TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  hi.  sc.  xiu. 

Then  with  an  old  one  dying.  117 

Ant     Moone  and  Starres, 
Whip  him  :  wer't  twenty  of  the  greateft  Tributaries 
That  do  acknowledge  Cce/ary  fhould  I  finde  them  120 

So  fawcy  with  the  hand  of  (he  heere,  what's  her  name 
Since  fhe  was  Cleopatra?  Whip  him  Fellowes, 
Till  like  a  Boy  you  fee  him  crindge  his  face, 
And  whine  aloud  for  mercy.     Take  him  hence. 

Tfud,     Marke  Anthony.  \  25 

Ant,     Tugge  him  away  :  being  whipt 
Bring  him  againe,  the  lacke  of  Ccefars  fhall 
Beare  vs  an  arrant  to  him.  Exeunt  with  Thidius.  128 

118.  Siarres,"]  stars !  Kow^,  122.  Cleopatra/*]  Cleopatra — Rowe. 

119.  wer't'\  wert  F,.  were  F^F^,  125.  Anthony.]  Ff.  Antony!  Glo. 
Rowe,  Pope.                                                      Antony—  Rowe  et  cet. 

121.  of  Jhe'\  of  her  Han.     of — she  127.  againe^  again;  Theob.  et  scq. 

Coll.  Wh.  i.  (subs.) 

121,  122.  what's  ...  Cleopatra/']    In  the'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Knt,  Coll.  Wh. 

parenthesis,  Pope,  + ,  Cap.  i,  Hal.     this  Pope  et  cet 

121.  name'\  name^  Johns,  et  seq.  128.  arrant'\  errand  Y^, 

119.  Whip  him]  Abbott  (§  499)  finds  that  this  line  belongs  to  a  class  of  *  appar- 
ent Alexandrines,  which  are  sometimes  regular  verses  of  five  accents  preceded  or 
followed  by  a  foot,  more  or  less  isolated,  containing  one  accent'  <  Whip  him '  is 
the  isolated  foot  here,  as,  I  suppose, '  what's  her  name'  is  the  isolated  one  in  line 
121.  It  is  the  same  old  story;  Anthony,  even  in  the  whiff  and  wind  of  foaming  rage» 
will  pay  no  attention  to  his  rhythm.  ...  I  now  find  that  Abbott  (§  497)  has  a  differ^ 
ent  scansion  for  the  *  apparent  Alexandrine  '  of  line  121.  It  is  to  be  effected  by  *  the 
omission  of  unemphatic  syllables,'  thus  : — *  So  s&ucy  |  with  the  h&nd  |  of  sh6  |  here 
— wh&t's  I  her  name?' — Ed. 

121.  hand  of  she  heere]  'She'  instead  of  her  is  used  in  supreme  contempt. 
Collier's  dash  before  it  is,  I  think,  well  devised.  Hanmer's  ^ her  here'  is  to  me 
intolerable.— Ed. 

122.  Since  she  was  Cleopatra]  Abbott  (§  132) :  Perhaps  the  meaning  is 
*  Whip  him  for  being  saucy  with  this  woman,  since  (though  she  is  not  now  worthy 
of  the  name)  she  once  was  (emphatical)  Cleopatra.'  Else  *  What  is  her  new  name 
since  she  ceased  to  be  Cleopatra  ? '  If  *  since,*  in  the  sense  of  ago^  could  be  used 
absolutely  for  once,  a  third  interpretation  would  be  possible :  *  What's  her  name  ? 
Once  she  was  Cleopatra.' 

127.  the  lacke]  Pope  changed  *  the '  to  this,  and  has  been  followed  by  a  majority 
of  editors.  We  have  already  had  '  this  Jack '  where  Tbidias  is  regarded  as  simply 
an  offensive  menial  without  any  qualification  other  than  the  contemptuous  'this.' 
But  here  he  is  '  the  Jack  of  Caesar,'  and  it  is  because  he  is  Caesar's  Jack  that  he  is  to 
be  made  a  servile  messenger.  There  is  enough  contempt  in  the  fact  that  he  came  as 
Caesar's  ambassador  and  returns  as  an  errand-bearer.  It  seems  to  me  that  'the' 
should  be  retained.     The  ictus  falls  on  *  Jack.' — Ed. 


ACT  III.  sc.  xiii.]  ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  249 

You  were  halfe  blafted  ere  I  knew  you  :  Ha  ? 

Haue  I  my  pillow  left  vnpreft  in  Rome,  130 

Forborne  the  getting  of  a  lawfuU  Race, 

And  by  a  lem  of  women,  to  be  abus'd 

By  one  that  lookes  on  Feeders/ 

Cleo,     Good  my  Lord. 

Ant.  You  haue  beene  a  boggeler  euer,  13S 

But  when  we  in  our  vicioufnefle  grow  hard 
(Oh  mifery  on't)  the  wife  Gods  feele  our  eyes  137 

129.  Ba  r^  Ha  f  ¥.ovre,  137- /^^^O    F,.    /eale  F,.    feal  F^, 

132.  I^m]  F^.    Jemme  F^.    Jtm  F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.     seel 

Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Warb.    gem  Han.  Johns,  et  seq. 

134.  Lord.'\   Lord—  Rowe  et  seq.  137, 138.  <y«...^ii'/4,]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 
(sabs.)  Theob.  Han.  Johns,     ey es.,. filth  ;  Qz.^, 

135.  boggeler]  boggier  Rowe.  Knt     eyes:  ..filth  Warb.  et  cet  (subs.) 

136.  gronv]  grew  Ff,  Rowe. 


133.  By  one  that  lookes  on  Feeders  ?]  Johnson,  by  an  obliquity  that  will  some- 
times befall  the  keenest,  supposed  that  this  refers  to  Thidias,  and  that  Anthony  was 
abused  by  a  man  who  looked  on  while  others  were  feeding ;  consequently  he  para- 
phrased the  words  by  :  *■  one  that  waits  at  the  table  while  others  are  eating,'  which  is 
true  enough  if  the  words  are  taken  literally,  but  the '  one  that  looks  on '  (that  is,  looks 
on  with  favour)  is  Cleopatra,  and  *  feeders '  are  servants.  When  Corin  offers  to 
establish  Rosalind  and  Celia  in  their  cottage  he  says,  '  I  will  your  very  faithfull 
Feeder  be.' — As  You  Like  It,  II,  iv,  105. — Ed. 

135.  boggeler]  Murray  (iV.  £.  L>.):  The  verb  to  boggle  is  apparently  formed 
on  boggle,  a  variant  of  Bogle,  a  spectre  (such  as  horses  are  reputed  to  see).  In  later 
times  there  has  been  a  tendency  to  associate  the  word  with  bungle,  which  appears  in 
sense  4,  and  in  the  derivatives,  i.  intr.  To  start  with  fright,  to  shy  as  a  startled 
horse,  to  take  alarm,  etc.  2.  To  raise  scruples,  hesitate,  demur,  stickle  {at,  etc.). 
3.  *To  play  fast  or  loose,' — Johnson  ;  to  palter,  quibble,  equivocate.  4.  To  fumble, 
bungle,  make  a  clumsy  attempt.  [Hence]  Boggier  is  one  who  boggles,  or  hesitates ; 
a  stickler  [whereof  the  present  line  is  quoted  as  an  example]. 

136-139.  when  .  .  .  errors]  That  is,  when  we  become  hardened  in  our  vicious 
courses  the  wise  gods  so  blind  us  that  we  lose  the  power  of  judging  clearly  concern- 
ing our  own  moral  defilement,  and  end  with  adoring  our  very  errors.  I  am  haunted 
with  the  memory  of  a  sentiment  similar  to  this  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  mention  it 
in  the  trust  that  some  one  may  be  more  fortunate  than  I  in  recalling  it.  We  must 
remember  that  filth,  filthy,  etc.  are  much  stronger  terms  now  than  in  the  time  of 
Shakespeare. — Ed. 

137.  seclc  our  eyes]  Harting  (p.  69)  :  Turbervile,  in  his  Book  of  Falconrie, 
1575,  gives  the  following  directions  *how  to  seele  a  hawke': — 'Take  a  needle 
threeded  with  untwisted  thread,  and  (casting  your  Hawke)  take  her  by  the  beake, 
and  put  the  needle  through  her  eye-lidde,  not  right  against  the  sight  of  the  eye,  but 
somewhat  nearer  to  the  beake,  because  she  may  see  backwards.  And  you  must  take 
good  heede  that  you  hurt  not  the  webbe,  which  is  under  the  eye-lidde,  or  on  the 
inside  thereof.     Then  put  your  needle  also  through  that  other  eye-lidde,  drawing 


250  3^^^   TRAGEDIE   OF  [act  hi.  sc.  xiil 

In  our  owne  filth,  drop  our  cleare  iudgements,  make  vs         138 

Adore  our  errors,  laugh  at's  while  we  ftrut 

To  our  confufion.  140 

Cleo.     Oh,is*t  come  to  this  ? 

AnL     I  found  you  as  a  Morfell,  cold  vpon 
Dead  Cce/ars  Trencher  :  Nay,  you  were  a  Fragment 
Of  Gneius  PompeyeSy  befides  what  hotter  houres 
Vnregiftred  in  vulgar  Fame,  you  haue  145 

Luxurioufly  pickt  out.     For  I  am  fure. 
Though  you  can  gueffe  what  Temperance  fhould  be, 
You  know  not  what  it  is. 

Cleo.     Wherefore  is  this  ? 

AnU     To  let  a  Fellow  that  will  take  rewards,  1 50 

And  fay,  God  quit  you,  be  familiar  with 

138.  drop\     dark    Lettsom,     Huds.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.     tr  t/ Var. '73  et  cet. 
drown  Words.  1 44,  Gneius]  Cneius  Ff. 

139.  tf/*j]  FjF^,Rowe,  +  ,  Sing.  Dyce,  Pompeyes]  Pompey*sF^.  Pom- 
Sta.  Glo.  Cam.     als  F^.    at  us  Cap.  et  pey  Han. 

cet.  151.  God  quit  you]  As  a  quotatioiiy 

141.  wV]  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  Dyce,         Han. 

the  endes  of  the  thread  together,  tye  them  over  the  beake,  not  with  a  straight  knotte, 
but  cut  off  the  threedes  endes  neare  to  the  knotte,  and  twist  them  together  in  such 
sorte,  that  the  eye-liddes  may  be  raysed  so  upwards,  that  the  Hawke  may  not  see 
at  all,  and  when  the  threed  shall  ware  loose  or  untyed,  then  the  Hawke  may  see 
somewhat  backwardes,  which  is  the  cause  that  the  threed  is  put  nearer  to  the 
beake.* 

137.  our  eyes]  Surely  a  debt  of  gratitude  is  due  to  Warburton  for  his  punctuation 
here,  when  we  find  a  critic  as  keen  as  Walker  (Cril.  iii,  305)  'imagining,'  that 
Knight  was  *  right'  in  substantially  following  the  Folio.  In  the  circumstances. 
Walker  naturally  found  a  difficulty  in  forcing  *  drop '  to  assume  the  sense  of  make 
drop.     Whereas,  under  Warburton* s  corrected  punctuation,  the  subject  of  'drop*  is 

*  the  wise  Gods,'  just  as  it  is  of  *  make*  and  *  laugh.' — Ed. 

142,  143.  a  Morsel],  cold  vpon  ...  a  Fragment]  Whiter  (p.  136)  :  The 
rapid  imagination  of  the  unwary  Poet,  even  when  it  is  employed  on  sentiments  the 
most  tender  and  pathetic,  is  sometimes  imperceptibly  entangled  in  a  chain  of  imagery, 
which  is  derived  from  the  meanest  subjects  and  the  lowest  occupations.  [Hereupon 
follow  several  illustrations  of  the  way  in  which  an  image,  drawn  from  the  culinary 
art,  influences  the  train  of  thought ;  as  here  the  word  '  morsel '  leads  to  *  fragment.*] 

*  In  old  English,*  continues  Whiter,  * "  fragments  * '  and  broken  meat  were  synonymous. 
In  the  vulgar  translation  of  the  Bible  we  have,  <'  and  they  took  up  of  the  broken  meat 
that  was  left  seven  baskets." — Mark  viii,  8.  In  other  places  we  ^A  fragments  used 
for  these  broken  relicts.  * 

146.  Luxuriously]  In  Roman  Catholic  Moral  Theology  there  is  no  other  definitioa 
oi  luxury  than  'inordinatus  appetitus  rei  venerese.* 

147.  Though]  Staunton  :  *  Though  *  carries  here  the  sense  of  1/,  or  even  if. 


ACT  III.  sc.  xUi.]  ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  25 1 

My  play-fellow,  your  hand  ;  this  Kingly  Seale,  152 

And  plighter  of  high  hearts.     O  that  I  were 
Vpon  the  hill  of  Bafan,  to  out-roare 

The  horned  Heard,  for  I  haue  fauage  caufe,  155 

And  to  proclaime  it  ciuilly,  were  like 
A  haltered  necke,  which  do's  the  Hangman  thanke, 
For  being  yare  about  him.     Is  he  whipt  ? 

Enter  a  Seruant  with  Thidias, 

Ser,     Soundly,  my  Lord.  160 

Ant.     Cried  he?  and  begg'd  a  Pardon  f 

Ser,     He  did  aske  fauour. 

Ant.     If  that  thy  Father  Hue,  let  him  repent 
Thou  was't  not  made  his  daughter,  and  be  thou  forrie 
To  follow  Ccefar  in  his  Triumph,  fmce  165 

Thou  haft  bin  whipt.     For  following  him,  henceforth 
The  white  hand  of  a  Lady  Feauer  thee. 
Shake  thou  to  looke  on't.     Get  thee  backe  to  Ccsfarj 
Tell  him  thy  entertainment  :  looke  thou  fay 
He  makes  me  angry  with  him.     For  he  feemes  170 

153-158.  0„.hitn\  Om.  Gar.  168.  Shake  thou\   Shake  Ff,  Rowe, 

161.  ^eg^'d  a'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han.  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.     Shake  thee 

begg'd  a'   Tbeob.  Warb.   Johns.    Glo.  Mai.     Shake  but  Coll.  MS. 

begged  he  Cap.  et  cet.  Get'\  Go  get  Rowe,  Pope,  Tbeob. 

166.  bin\  been  Ff.  Han.  Warb. 

whipt.  For.., him ^'\  whipped,  for  170.  makes\  make  Vioyt^  W, 

...him,  Rowe  et  seq.  (subs.) 

152.  this  Kingly  Scale]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  The  MS  converts  *this*  mio  that; 
the  use  of'  this'  would  almost  imply  that  Antony  had  seized  Cleopatra's  hand. 

154,  155.  the  hill  of  Basan,  to  out-roare  The  homed  Heard]  Cruden's  Con- 
cordance gives  the  following  references,  where  mention  is  made  of  the  high  hill  of 
Bashan  and  of  its  bulls: — Psalms^  xxii,  12;  Ixviii,  15;  Ezekiei,  xxxix,  18;  AmoSy 
iv,  I.  By  way  of  excuse  for  these  quotations  from  the  Old  Testament  in  the  mouth 
of  Anthony,  Singer  suggests  that  *  probably  Antony  caught  them  from  his  friend 
Herod,  or  picked  them  up  when  he  was  at  Jerusalem  with  Qeopatra,  as  he  once  was.' 

158.  yare]  That  is,  adroit,  quick.     See  Shakespeare,  passim. 

167.  The  white  hand]  Can  it  be  that  it  is  an  unsavory  commentary  on  the  personal 
cleanliness  of  the  ladies  of  his  time  that  Shakespeare  lays  so  much  stress,  as  some- 
thing distinctive,  on  the  '  white  hands '  of  his  heroines  ?  Rosaline  has  a  *  white  hand; ' 
so  has  Rosalind,  also  Olivia;  the  Duke  of  Orleans  in  Henry  the  Fifth  swears  by  his 
'lady's  white  hand.'  Hermione's  hand  was  white,  so  also  Helen  of  Troy's,  hers 
was  'marvelous  white' ;  the  hand  of  Lucrece  was  a  'perfect  white,'  and  here  in 
the  present  line,  by  implication,  Cleopatra  has  a  'white  hand.'  The  respective 
references  may  be  found  in  Banlett's  Concordance. — EiD. 

167.  Feauer]  Used  causatively. 


252  THE    TRACED  IE   OF  [act  ill,  sc.  xiu. 

Proud  and  difdainfull,  harping  on  what  I  am,  171 

Not  what  he  knew  I  was.     He  makes  me  angry, 

And  at  this  time  moft  eafie  'tis  to  doo't  : 

When  my  good  Starres,  that  were  my  former  guides 

Haue  empty  left  their  Orbes,  and  (hot  their  Fires  175 

Into  th'Abifme  of  hell.     If  he  miflike, 

My  fpeech,  and  what  is  done,  tell  him  he  has 

HiparchuSy  my  enfranched  Bondman,  whom 

He  may  at  pleafure  whip,  or  hang,  or  torture, 

As  he  fhall  like  to  quit  me.     Vrge  it  thou  :  180 

Hence  with  thy  ftripes,  be  gone.  Exit  Thid. 

Cleo,     Haue  you  done  yet  ? 

Ant.     Alacke  our  Terrene  Moone  is  now  Eclipft,  183 

173.  doo't:'\   doot:  F,.     doU:  F  F^,  Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Sing. 
Rowe,  +  .    ddt^  Johns.  Coll.  Dyce,  Glo.  178.  enfranched^    Ff,   Rowe,   Pope, 

Cam.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.    enfranchid  Dyce. 

175.  Jhot^Jhut  FjF^.  enfranchised  Thcob.  et  cet. 

176.  th'Abifme']  the  Abifme  Ff  et  183-185.  AlackcJimef]  Lines  end, 
scq.                                                                     moon.., alone., Mme  f  Cap.   Var.  '78  et 

177.  done^'\   done;  Cap.  Varr.   Mai.         seq. 

175.  Orbes]  This  is  not  used  for  orbity  as  has  been  stated,  but  refers  to  the  nine 
concentric  crystalline  spheres,  in  which,  according  to  the  Ptolomaic  system,  the  seren 
planets  (of  which  the  sun  is  one),  the  fixed  stars,  and  the  Primum  Mobile  mored 
about  the  earth.  What  the  Primum  Mobile  is,  is  a  little  vague,  beyond  the  belief 
that  it  moved  and  controlled  the  rest.  Anthony's  *  good  stars '  were  probably  in  the 
eighth  Orb  of  fixed  stars ;  they  were  hardly  likely  to  be  in  any  of  the  planetary  Orbs. 
It  is  to  this  Ptolomaic  theory  that  Cleopatra  refers  when  she  says  *  Oh  Sunne  Borne 
the  great  Sphere  thou  mou'st  in,* — IV,  xv,  16,  and  again  *  His  voyce  was  propertied 
As  all  the  tuned  Spheres,' — V,  ii,  102,  in  the  next  line  Shakespeare  used  « Orbc ' 
for  the  whole  world,  as  he  does  in  Twelfth  Night  (and  probably  elsewhere)  where 
Feste  says  to  Viola  :  •  Foolery  sir,  does  walke  about  the  Orbe  like  the  Sun,' — III,  i, 
39.  Anthony  says  *  shot  their  Fires,'  to  which  there  is  a  similar  expression  in  Mid. 
N.  Dream^  where  Oberon  sa)rs,  *  And  certaine  starres  shot  madly  from  their  Spheares.' 
—II,  i,  158.— Ed. 

180.  to  quit  me]  Johnson  :  To  repay  me  this  insult;  to  requite  me. 

183.  our  Terrene  Moone]  Capell  (i,  42) :  This  will  be  understood  by  most 
readers,  of  the  moon  in  the  heavens;  which,  they  will  think,  might  be  call'd — 
'terrene,*  as  being  the  earth's  attendant,  or  satellite :  But  the  speaker  means  it  of 
Cleopatra,  who  was  call'd — the  new  Isis,  and  wore  often  the  attires  of  that  goddess; 
[III,  vi,  18]  and  she,  in  the  Egyptian  theology,  was  the  same  as  the  moon.  It  is  to 
this  circumstance,  in  part,  that  Cleopatra  herself  alludes,  in  these  words  of  hers, 
*  Now  the  fleeting  moon  No  planet  is  of  mine.* — [V,  ii,  291. — ^It  is  Warburton  who 
says  that  Cleopatra  in  the  last  Act  refers  to  Isis  when  she  si>eaks  of  the  *  fleeting 
moon,' — a  thoroughly  Warburtonian  suggestion;  and  evidently  the  source  whence 


ACT  III.  sc.  xUi.]    ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  253 

And  it  portends  alone  the  fall  of  Anthony. 

Cleo,     I  muft  ftay  hi  s  time  ?  185 

Ant,     To  flatter  Cce/ar,  would  you  mingle  eyes 
With  one  that  tyes  his  pointsJ 

Cleo.     Not  know  me  yet  ? 

Ant.     Cold-hearted  toward  me  ? 

Cleo.     Ah  (  Deere  )  if  I  be  fo,  190 

From  my  cold  heart  let  Heauen  ingender  haile^ 
And  poyfon  it  in  the  fourfe,  and  the  firfl  ftone 
Drop  in  my  necke  :  as  it  determines  fo 
Diflblue  my  life,  the  next  Caefarian  fmile, 

Till  by  degrees  the  memory  of  my  wombe,  195 

Together  with  my  braue  Egyptians  all, 
By  the  difcandering  of  this  pelleted  ftorme,  197 

185.   [to  her  Women.  Cap.  194.  lifij"]  life;  Rowe,  Pope,  Han. 

time  /*]  F,.     time.  F^F^  et  seq.  life !  Theob.  et  seq. 

187.  points,"]  points  ?  Rowe  et  seq.  Cafarian  fmile"]   Ff.       Casario 

189.  me?]  me!  Theob. +,  Var. '73.  wwi?^  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 
me —  Ktly.  Casarion  smite  Han.  et  cet. 

190.  Ah  (Deere)]  Om.  Han.  197.  difcandering]  Ff,  Knt.     discat- 

192.  poyfon  it]  poison* t  Pope,  + .  tering Rowe,  Pope.  discandyinglMxx^y^ 

193.  determines  fo]     determines^    so        Theob,  et  cet. 
Rowe  et  seq. 


Capell  received  the  idea,  which  would  never  else  have  occurred  to  his  sensible  mind. 
As  it  is,  he  yielded,  as  he  says,  only  *  in  part' — Ed.] 

187.  With  one  that  tyes  his  points]  Malone  :  That  is,  with  a  menial  atten- 
dant '  Points '  were  laces  with  metal  tags,  with  which  the  old  trunkhose  were 
£utened. — Da  vies  (ii,  354)  :  When  Mr  Hyde,  afterwards  Earl  of  Clarendon,  some 
time  before  the  beginning  of  the  civil  wars,  waited  upon  Charles  I.  at  Hampton 
Coart,  the  king  said  to  him,  *  So,  Ned  Hyde,  they  say  you  tie  my  points  1 ' 

193.  as  it  determines]  M.  Mason  :  That  is,  as  the  hailstone  dissolves. 

194.  Dissolue  my  life]  Collier  :  But  for  the  verse,  we  might,  perhaps,  more 
properly  and  intelligibly  read,  «as  it  dissolves,  so  determine  (or  end)  my  life.' 
•  Determine  *  and  « dissolve '  may,  however,  be  taken  as  convertible  terms. 

194.  next]  In  deciding  the  question  of  Cleopatra's  sincerity  or  insincerity  in  this 
enc,  has  full  weight  been  given  to  the  pathetic  tenderness  of  this  word  ?— Ed. 

194,  the  next  Caesarian]  Steevens:  Caesarion  was  Cleopatra's  son  by  Julius 
""•r. — Irving  Edition  :  Cleopatra  appears  to  apply  the  name  to  Anton)r*s  off- 
spring as  an  indirect  compliment;  as  if  she  had  said,  this  second  Caesar's  son.— [Or, 
rather,  is  it  not  a  wilful  and  artful  oblivion  that  she  had  ever  had  any  children  of 
whom  Anthony  was  not  the  father  ?— Ed.] 

195.  memory  of  my  wombe]  Capell  (i,  42)  :  That  is,  the  memorials  of  my 
womb,  the  things  by  which  it  will  be  remember'd,  and  means — her  children. 

197.  discandering]  Thirlby  {^Letter  to  Theobald,  1729,— Nichols,  Illust,  ii, 
228)  :  Possibly,  Shakespeare  wrote  *  discawd^ng. '     Sed  nihil  statuo.    If  you  please, 


254  ^^^   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  hi,  sc.  xiii. 

Lye  graueleffe,  till  the  Flies  and  Gnats  of  Nyle  198 

Haue  buried  them  for  prey. 

Ant.     I  am  fatisfied  .*  200 

CiBfar  fets  downe  in  Alexandria,  where 
I  will  oppofe  his  Fate.     Our  force  by  Land, 
Hath  Nobly  held,  our  feuer'd  Nauie  too 
Haue  knit  againe,  and  Fleete,  threatning  moft  Sea-like.  204 

198.  graueleffe^  Ff,  Rowe,  Var.  '73,  201.  in]  yore  Han. 

Coll.  Dyce,  Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  203.  Aeli/,}  held;  Pope  et  seq. 

graveless  ;  Pope  et  cet.  our\  and  Ff,  Rowe. 

200.  I  am]  Pm  Pope,  +  ,  Dyceii,  iii.  204.  Fleeie]  float  Rowe,+,  Var.  '73. 

201.  fets]  sits  Johns.  Var.  *73  et  seq.  a  fleet  Coll.  MS. 

and  it  be  worth  while,  consider  a  little  of  it ;  for  I  have  objections  against  it,  and  let 
me  know  your  opinion  of  it ;  and  whether  Shakespeare  ever  uses  the  word  discatter, 
— Theobald  :  From  the  corruption  [of  the  Folios]  both  Dr  Thirlby  and  I  saw,  we 
must  retrieve  the  word  with  which  I  have  reform' d  the  text  .  .  .  The  congealing  of 
the  water  into  hail  he  metaphorically  calls  candying ;  and  it  is  an  image  he  is  fond 
of.  So  in  the  next  Act  of  this  very  play : — •  The  hearts,  ...  do  discandy,  melt 
their  sweets/  etc. — Knight  :  But  how  is  *  discandy '  used  in  the  next  Act?  *  The 
hearts  ...  to  whom  I  gave  Their  wishes,  do  discandy^  melt  their  sweets.  On  blos- 
soming Caesar.'  The  expletive  melt  their  sweets  gives  us  the  peculiar  and  most  forci- 
ble meaning  in  which  the  word  is  here  used.  But  the  pelleted  storm,  which  makes 
Qeopatra's  brave  Egyptians  lie  graveless,  is  utterly  opposed  to  the  melting  into 
sweetness  of  the  word  discandying.  See  note  in  The  Mer.  of  Ven.  I,  iii,  upon  the 
passage  :  '  other  ventures  he  hath  squandered  abroad.'  To  squander  is  to  scatter ; 
and  so  Dryden  uses  the  word : — *  They  drive,  they  squander  the  huge  Belgian  fleet' 
To  dis'Scander,  we  believe  then,  is  to  dis  squander.  .  .  .  We,  therefore,  without  hesi- 
tation, restore  the  original  *  discandering,'  in  the  sense  of  dis- squandering, — [Dyce 
gives  the  reading  of  the  Folios,  and  then,  without  quoting  Knight's  note,  adds :  '  which 
Mr  Knight  "  without  hesitation  restores."  *  After  *  restores,*  Dyce  indulges  in  a 
good  heartsome  exclamation  mark,  which  saves  thought  and  does  not  spare  feelings, 
— Knight,  gentlest  of  men,  whose  epitaph  Douglas  Jerrold  said  should  be  *  Good 
Night,*  must,  sooner  or  later,  have  known  of  this  contemptuous  treatment  of  his  well- 
considered  opinion;  he  outlived  Dyce. — Ed.] 

197.  this  pelleted  storxne]  Staunton  {Athenaum,  26  April,  1873)  *  I  ^a^c  a 
suspicion  that  'pelleted'  is  wrong,  and  that  Shakespeare  wrote, — ^polluted  storm.' 
The  hail  was  to  be  poisoned^  and  kill  in  melting,  not  in  falling.  This,  however, 
may  be  thought  by  many  to  be  gilding  refined  gold.  'Pelleted'  affords  a  good 
sense,  and  in  any  other  writer  would  be  received  without  question. 

199.  Haue  buried  them  for  prey]  Deighton  :  That  is,  till  they  have  found  a 
grave  in  the  stomachs  of  the  flies  and  gnats  of  the  Nile.  Compare  Macbeth^  III, 
iv,  72,  *  If  charnel-houses  and  our  graves  must  send  Those  that  we  bury  back,  our 
monuments  {t.  e.  tombs)  Shall  be  the  maws  of  kites.' 

202.  I  will  oppose  his  Fate]  A  revelation  of  the  conviction  forced  on  Anthony 
both  by  the  Soothsayer  (II,  iii),  and  by  his  own  experience,  that  it  was  Caesar's  'fate* 
to  be  Anthcwiy's  superior. — Ed. 

204.  and  Fleete]  Capell  (i,  42) :    This  implies,  a  moving  with  nimbleness,  a 


ACT  III,  sc.  xiii.]  ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  255 

Where  haft  thou  bin  my  heart  f  Doft  thou  heare  Lady  ?         205 

If  from  the  Field  I  fhall  retume  once  more 

To  kiffe  thefe  Lips,  I  will  appeare  in  Blood, 

I, and  my  Sword,  will  eame  our  Chronicle, 

There's  hope  in't  yet. 

Cleo.     That's  my  braue  Lord.  210 

AnU     I  will  be  trebble-fmewed,  hearted,  breathM, 

And  fight  malicioufly  :  for  when  mine  houres 

Were  nice  and  lucky,  men  did  ranfome  liues  213 

205.  bin\  been  Ft  Stecv.  Varr. 

206.  yka//'\   should  Pope  ii,  Theob.  209.  yef^  Om.  Sta. 

Warb.  Johns.  VaiT.  Ran.  ^w,  trebble'/inewed'\    F,Fj.     treble- 

208.  our\  my  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Varr.  -finewedY^^  Rowe.    treble-sineu^dVo^ 

209.  There* s,.. in' i'\    There  is.., in  il  et  seq. 
Han.   Cap.   Var.  '78,    »85,   Mai.    Ran. 

skimming  lightly  on  water ;  as  in  this  line  of  Lodge's, — '  As  many  frie  [1.  e.  small 
pike]  as  Jleele  on  Ocean's  face.' — Euphties'  Golden  Legacy^  E,  2b,)  and  is  therefore 
fitter  than— 3^<Mz/,  a  word  the  moderns  have  chang'd  it  to,  which  carries  with  it  an 
idea  of  inaction  and  stillness. — Bradley  i^N.  E.  D.  s.  v.  Fleet) :  i.  To  float,  f  c  Of 
a  Tessel :  To  be  or  get  afloat ;  to  sail. 

204.  threatning  most  Sea-like]  Thiselton  (p.  21) :  The  Navy  is  here  regarded 
as  partaking  of  the  nature  of  the  Sea,  so  at  home  does  it  appear  to  be  in  that 
element 

205.  Where  hast  thou  bin  my  heart  ?  Dost  thou  heare  Lady  ?]  To  Anthony's 
first  question,  which  is  that  of  a  lover,  jealous  of  every  minute  passed  by  his  mistress 
while  out  of  sight,  Cleopatra  returns  no  answer.  Whereupon  follows  the  second 
question,  which  would  not  have  been  asked  had  she  not  evidently  been  lost  in  thought. 
During  her  interview  with  Thidias  she  had  been  true  to  Anthony  and  had  encouraged 
Caesar's  ambassador  only  that  she  might  discover  the  full  extent  of  his  master's  plans. 
But  now  this  outburst  of  Anthony's  Berserker  wrath  could  not  but  have  its  effect  on 
her,  and  give  her  food  for  reflection.  When  the  play  opens,  the  question  with  her 
was  how  she  should  keep  Anthony  by  her  side  ;  now  the  question  looms  up  whether 
or  not  she  should  keep  by  the  side  of  Anthony.  Caesar's  offer  was  perilously  attrac- 
tive. Small  wonder  that  she  was  so  abstracted  that  Anthony  had  to  say,  *  Dost  thou 
hear.  Lady  ?  *  She  emerges  from  this  reverie,  true  to  her  love,  and  from  this  hour 
her  fate  and  Anthony's  were  to  be  the  same. — Ed. 

207.  in  Blood]  That  is,  in  full  vigour,  in  perfect  condition,  a  phrase  derived  from 
the  chase.  See,  if  need  be,  the  note  (in  this  edition)  on  *  The  Deare  was  (as  you 
know)  sanguis  in  blood,' — Levis  Lab.  Lost^  IV,  ii,  4. — Ed. 

209.  There's  hope  in't  yet]  For  the  sake  of  the  metre,  Hanmer,  with  a  fol- 
lowing that  is  certainly  respectable,  changed  this  into  the  demure  and  deliberate 
*  There  is  hope  in  it  yet.'  Happily,  no  editor  since  Knight's  day  has  thus  trans- 
gressed.— Ed. 

211.  trebble-sinewed,  hearted,  breath'd]  M alone  points  out  that  'trebble' 
qualifies  both  *  hearted  '  and  *  breath'd.' 

213.  Were  nice  and  lucky]  Warburton  :  *Nice,'  for  delicate,  courtlyy  flowing 


2S6  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  in.  sc.  xiiL 

Of  me  for  lefts  :  But  now,  He  fet  my  teeth, 

And  fend  to  darkeneffe  all  that  ftop  me.     Come,  215 

Let's  haue  one  other  gawdy  night  :  Call  to  me 

All  my  fad  Captaines,  fill  our  Bowles  once  more  : 

Let's  mocke  the  midnight  Bell. 

Cleo.     It  is  my  Birth-day, 
I  had  thought  t'haue  held  it  poore.     But  fmce  my  Lord         220 
Is  Anthony  againe,  I  will  be  Cleopatra. 

Ant,     We  will  yet  do  well. 

Cleo.     Call  all  his  Noble  Captaines  to  my  Lord. 

Ant,     Do  fo,  wee'l  fpeake  to  them. 
And  to  night  He  force  225 

217,  218.  Bowles  once  more:  LetW\  222.  WewiUI  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Var. ' 73, 

Ff,  Knt,  Sing.  Glo.  Cam.  Ktly.    borwls;  Knt,  Coll.  Sing.  Dycc,  Wh.  Sta.   Glo. 

once  more  Lefs  Rowe  et  cet.  Cam.  Hal.      We'll  Cap.  et  cet 

220,  221.  /  ^<x^...  Cleopatra]   Lines  223.   Call ,..  Lord,'\    Call  my  lord's 

end,  is.,, Cleopatra  Han.  noble  captains.  Words. 

220.  t'hatie'\  Ff,  Rowe, +  ,  Sing.  Dyce  224-227.  Dofo,,,Queene'\  Lines  end, 
ii,  iii,  Ktly.     to  have  Cap.  et  cet.  force,,, Queen.  Rowe  et  seq. 

221.  againe'\  Om.  Steev.  conj.  224.  to  them'\  to  'em  Han. 

in  peace. — ^Johnson  :  *  Nice  *  rather  seems  to  be,  just  fit  for  my  purpose^  agreeahU  to 
my  wish.  So  we  vulgarly  say  of  any  thing  that  is  done  better  than  was  expected,  it 
is  nice, — Stkevens  :  *  Nice  '  is  trifling.  So,  in  Rom.  and  Jul,  V,  ii :  *  The  letter 
was  not  nicCy  but  full  of  charge.' — M ALONE :  Again,  in  Richard  III, :  *  My  lord, 
this  argues  conscience  in  your  grace,  But  the  respects  thereof  are  nice  and  trivial' — 
Douce  (ii,  94)  asserts  that  it  is  here  used  *in  a  sense  bordering  on  that  of  amorous 
or  wanton' — [Unquestionably,  <  nice  *  is  used  in  all  these  senses  and  in  several  others, 
— the  context  must  decide.  It  is  used  here,  I  think,  in  any  sense  other  than  in 
Douce's. — Ed.] 

216.  gawdy  night]  Bradley  (A''.  E,  D.)  defines  a  *  Gaudy-day*  as  a  *  day  of 
rejoicing,  a  festival  or  gala  day ;  especially  the  day  on  which  a  college  gaudy  is  held* ; 
and  refers  to  <  Gaudy,'  a  substantive,  which  is  '  an  adaptation  from  the  Latin  gaudium, 
joy.*  Hence  *  gaudy-night.' — Wright  (j.  v.  Gaudy,  substantive,  2.)  gires  an 
instance  of  'gaudy-night'  in  use  at  Oxford  as  late  as  1861. 

219.  It  is  my  Birth-day]  See  Plutarch,  Appendix. 

220,  221.  I  had  .  .  .  Cleopatra]  Walker  {Cril,  iii,  306)  :  Arrange, — ^*  I'had 
thought  t'  have  held  it  poor ;  |  But,  since  my  lord  is  Antony  again,  |  I  will  be  Cleo- 
patra.'— Corson  (p.  308)  :  There's  an  unconscious  and  pathetic  if  not  ludicrous 
irony  in  this  speech :  *  since  my  lord  is  Antony  again,'  really  means,  he  has  returned 
to  his  weak  and  sensual  self ;  *  I  will  be  Cleopatra,'  that  is,  she  will  be  again  the 
fascinating  serpent  of  old  Nile. — [Does  it  not  rather  refer  to  the  towering  passion  into 
which  Anthony  had  lashed  himself,  and  during  which  he  had  assailed  Qeopatza 
with  a  torrent  of  vile  abuse? — Ed.] 

222.  We  will  yet  do  well]  For  an  analysis  of  the  conditions  under  which  « will,' 
instead  of  shall,  is  used  to  express  simple  futurity,  see  Franz,  §  462. 


ACT  III,  sc.  xiu.]   ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  257 

The  Wine  peepe  through  their  fcarres.  226 

Come  on  (  my  Queene  ) 

There's  fap  in't  yet.     The  next  time  I  do  fight 

He  make  death  loue  me  :  for  I  will  contend 

Euen  with  his  peftilent  Sythe.  Exeunt.        230 

Eno.     Now  hee'l  out-ftare  the  Lightning,  to  be  furious 
Is  to  be  frighted  out  of  feare,  and  in  that  moode 
The  Doue  will  pecke  the  Eftridge ;  and  I  fee  ftill  233 

226.  fcarrei\  fkarres  F,.  ning;  Rowe  ii.  Pope,  Theob.  Hao. Warb. 

23a  Sythe\  scytht  F^.  lightning,  Johns,  et  cet 

Exeunt.]  Exeunt  Ant.  Qe.  Cha.  232.  Is  to  be\  Is  to  Cap.  (G>rrected 

In.  and  Att.  Cap.  in  Errata.) 

231-235.  Mnemonic,  Warb.  and'\  Om.    Cap.  Walker. 

231.  oui'ftare\  out/lare  Daniel.  233.  and'\  Chn.    Han. 

LigAtningf']  Ff,  Rowe  i.  /^At' 


230.  his  pestilent  Sythe]  Schmidt  {L^x.)  :  *  Pestilent  sythe '  is  here  equivalent 
to  the  scythe  of  pestilence,  the  deaths  occasioned  by  pestilence. — [That  is,  I  will  rival 
the  scythe  that  mows  down  victims  in  a  pestilence. — Ed.] 

230.  Exeunt]  Vischer  (p.  125) :  And  thus  Antony  commits  the  extraordinary 
blunder  of  allowing  himself  to  be  won  over.  But  how  ?  It  is  hardly  conceivable 
that  he  should  have  done  so,  after  Geopatra*s  baseness  in  yielding  herself  to  Csesar 
and  in  giving  his  messenger  her  hand  to  be  kissed.  The  question  arises  whether  or 
not  an  intermediate  scene  be  lost.  The  conclusion,  that  this  is  the  case,  is  almost 
inevitable.  And  why  does  Geopatra  here  display  so  little  charm  ?  Did  the  Poet 
intend  that  she  should  here  appear  insipid  ? — [Never  insipid,  but  dazed,  and  think- 
ing very  fast.     She  is  at  the  parting  of  the  ways. — Ed.] 

231,  232.  Now  hee'l  .  .  .  moode]  Walker  {Crit.  iii,  306)  :  Arrange,  *  Now 
he'll  outstare  |  The  lightning.  To  be  furious,  is  to  be  |  Affrighted  out  of  fear ;  and, 
in  that  mood,'  etc. 

233.  Estridge]  Douce  (i,  435,  note  on  '  estridges,*  /  Hen,  IV:  IV,  i,  97) : 
Although  it  is  admitted  that  the  ostrich  was  occasionally  denominated  estridge  by  our 
old  writers,  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  this  bird  is  here  meant.  Throughout  the 
many  observations  on  these  diflScult  lines,  it  has  been  quite  overlooked  that  estridge 
signifies  a  goshawk.  In  this  sense  the  word  is  used  in  [the  present  passage  in  Ant, 
Cf*  Cleop,"],  It  would  be  absurd  to  talk  of  a  dove  pecking  an  ostrich  ;  the  allusion  is 
to  the  practice  of  flying  falcons  at  pigeons.  Falconers  are  often  called  ostregers  and 
ostringers  in  the  old  books  of  falconry,  and  elsewhere.  Estridge  for  ostrich  or  ostridge 
is  a  corrupt  spelling  that  crept  into  our  language  at  the  conmiencement  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  reign,  and  it  appears  that  after  that  period  the  two  words  were  very  often 
confounded  together,  and  used  one  for  the  other. — Madden  (p.  155,  footnote)  : 
Douce  was  the  first  to  point  out  that  Shakespeare  wrote  of  the  estridge  or  goshawk, 
not  of  the  ostrich  [in  the  present  passage].  The  same  idea  was  present  to  the  mind 
of  Qifford  when  he  thus  taunted  Richard,  Duke  of  York :  *  So  cowards  fight  when 
they  can  fly  no  further ;  So  doves  do  peck  the  falcon's  piercing  talons.'— j  Hen.  VI: 
I,  iv,  40.  A  dove  pecking  an  ostrich  is  not  a  lively  image,  and  I  doubt  that  the  idea 
would  have  occurred  to  a  commentator,  had  he  been  aware  that  a  kind  of  hawk  in 

17 


258  THE   TRAGEDIE   OF  [act  iv,  sc.  i. 

A  diminution  in  our  Captaines  braine, 

Reftores  his  heart ;  when  valour  prayes  in  reafoHi  235 

It  eates  the  Sword  it  fights  with  :  I  will  feeke 

Some  way  to  leaue  him.  Exeunt,         237 

\A6lus  Quartus.    Scene  /.] 

Enter  Ccefar ,  AgrippUy  &  Mecenas  with  his  Army, 

Ccefar  reading  a  Letter. 

Ccef.     He  calles  me  Boy,  and  chides  as  he  had  power  3 

235.  prayes  in\  prays  in  F^.    preys  on  Alexandria.  Cap. 
Rowe  et  seq.  1-20.  Om.  Gar. 

237.  Exeunt]  Exit.  Rowe.  i.  Mecenas]  Mecaenas  F^. 

Act  IV,  Scene  i.  Rowe.    Scene  i.  Om.  with  his  Army]  Officers,  and  others, 

Kemble.  attending.  Cap.  et  seq.  (subs.) 
Caesar's  Camp.  Rowe.   Camp  before 

common  use  was  known  as  an  estridge. — [On  the  other  hand,  Bradley  (A^.  E,  Z>.) 
says  that  Estrich  or  estridge^  is  a  variant  of  ostrich^  and  gives  to  it  no  other  meaning 
than  the  latter  word  ;  the  present  passage  is  given  as  a  reference.  No  such  meaning 
as  goshawk  is  mentioned  by  him.  Every  reference  that  he  gives  clearly  refers  to 
the  ostrich,  except  the  present,  and  two  others,  of  which  one  is  dated  1450,  and  the 
second,  dated  1649,  is  doubtful.  The  derivation  which  Murray  (AT.  E,  D. )  gives 
of  Ostreger^  Ostringer^  has  no  reference  to  Estridges^  but  the  word  comes,  con- 
clusively, from  Asturia,  in  Spain.  The  image  of  a  dove  in  its  fright  pecking  at  an 
African  ostrich  is  to  me  so  infinitely  absurd  that  I  would  welcome  any  bird  or  beast 
that  can  prove  a  more  rational  substitute.  The  case  of  the  ostrich  is  by  no  means 
improved  when  the  quality  is  noted  for  which  it  is  chiefly  distinguished  in  the  days 
of  Shakespeare.  Some  of  the  examples  in  the  N.  E.  D.  of  the  use  of  estridge  refer 
to  its  plumes,  but  the  majority  to  a  comfortable  and  enviable  digestion,  which  success- 
fully copes  with  nails  and  horse-shoes.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  in  any 
allusion  by  Shakespeare  to  an  ostrich,  an  audience  of  his  day  would  be  at  once 
reminded  of  the  bird's  voracity,  and,  consequently,  should  a  dove  peck  at  an  ostrich, 
the  allusion  would  be  at  once  interpreted  as  referring  to  a  defence,  not  of  cg^  or 
young,  but  of  nails  or  horse  shoes.  After  all,  the  question  is  of  small  moment.  It  is 
enough  that  Enobarbus,  after  his  profoundly  true  saying  that  *  to  be  furious  Is  to  be 
frighted  out  of  fear,' — one  of  those  *  jewels,  five  words  long,*  which  sparkle  for  ever, 
—draws  his  illustration  from  the  image  of  a  dove,  the  type  of  timidity,  which  attacks, 
under  the  influence  of  fear,  that  from  which  it  would  otherwise  fly  in  tenor, — this, 
I  prefer  to  believe,  is  a  hawk,  the  dove's  most  terrible  foe. — Ed.] 

235.  in  reason]  R.  G.  White  (ed.  i)  :  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the  Folio  should 
not  here  be  followed  ; — *  in  *  having  the  sense  of  upon, 

235.  236.  when  valour  .  .  .  fights  with]  Halliwkll  {SeUd,  Notes,  p.  29) : 
This  passage  is  thus  given  in  Cotgrave's  English  Treasury,  1655  : — *  When  Talour 
preys  on  reason,  it  does  eat  |  The  sword  it  shovld  fight  with.* 

3.  as  he  had]  Equivalent  to  as  though  ;  see  Shakespeare,  passim. 


ACT  IV,  sc.  i.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  259 

To  beate  me  out  of  Egypt     My  Meffenger 

He  hath  whipt  with  Rods,  dares  me  to  perfonal  Combat  5 

C(Bfar  to  Anthony  :  let  the  old  Ruffian  know, 

I  haue  many  other  wayes  to  dye  :  meane  time  7 

5.  C<fmbat,'\  combat f  Rowe  et  seq.  Johns.  Cap.  Ran. 

6.  Jhunuy"]  know  Dyce,  GIo.  Cam.  7.  dye .']  die^  Coll  Hal.  Cam. 

7.  /  haut]    He  hcUh    Han.    Upton, 

7.  I  haue  many  other  wayes  to  dye]  Upton  (p.  240)  :  What  a  reply  is  this  to 
Antony's  challenge  ?  'tis  acknowledging  he  should  die  under  the  unequal  combat 
But  if  we  read,  *  He  hath  many  other  ways  to  die ;  mean  time  /  laugh  at  his  chal- 
lenge.'   By  this  reading  we  have  poignancy,  and  the  very  repartee  of  Caesar. — Capell 
(i,  42)  :  The  Plutarch  that  Shakespeare  dealt  with,  speaking  of  Antony's  challenge, 
says, — '  Casar  aunswered  him,  that  he  had  many  other  wayes  to  dye  then  so,'  which 
words  are  ambiguous,  and  might  be  taken  wrong  by  the  Poet,  and  occasion  that  reply 
which  is  in  all  the  editions  except  the  Oxford  one  [i.  e.  Hanmer's]  :    But  this  is  so 
nnfit  a  reply  to  be  made  by  Caesar,  that  the  editor  could  not  but  acquiesce  in  the 
Oxford  correction ;  which,  besides  that  it  is  not  violent,  gives  us  the  true  reply  as 
found  in  the  original.     <I'  in  the  next  line  [see  Text,  Notes']^  is  taken  from  the 
same  edition :  but  the  line  should  be  further  amended  by  the  insertion  of  another 
word,— y^i/,  between  *  his '  and  *  challenge ' ;  otherwise  the  metre  will  not  proceed 
light — ^Johnson:  I  think  this  emendation  [He  hath"]  deserves  to  be  received. — 
Farmer  :  Most  indisputably  this  is  the  sense  of  Plutarch,  and  given  so  in  the  modem 
translations,  but  Shakespeare  was  misled  by  the  ambiguity  of  the  old  one :  *  Caesar 
answered  him,  that  he  had  many  other  ways  to  die,  than  so.' — [Dyce  quotes  with 
approval  this  note  of  Farmer.] — Maginn  (Fraser^s  Maga.    Sept.  1839,  p.  264)  ;  I 
am  not  quite  so  sure  that  Shakespeare  wrote  [this  passage]  as  we  have  it     [Maginn 
here  quotes  it,  but  reads  line  9  as  *  Caesar  must  kncnv.^^     Taking  the  repartee  liter- 
ally as  it  appears  in  North,  Shakespeare's  ordinary  practice  may  afford  a  better  read- 
ing :  *  Let  the  old  ruffian  know  |  He  hath  many  other  ways  to  die  than  so.  |  Mean- 
time, I  laugh  at's  challenge.     Mec,  Caesar  must  know,'  |    ...  Is  it  any  very  violent 
conjecture  to  imagine  that  Shakespeare  had  seized  the  spirit  of  Plutarch  and  had 
written  the  exact  words  of  North,  without  alteration  of  a  letter,  except  the  necessary 
change  of  haJh  for  ha^/,  and  that  some  printing  or  editorial  blundering  has  jumbled 
the  pronouns.     The  supposition  is  in  complete  conformity  with  Shakespeare's  prac- 
tice, and  it  removes  the  metrical  difficulty. — [It  is  patent  that  North's  translation  is 
ambiguous.     It  makes  little  difference  whether  the  ambiguity  is  due  to  North  or  to 
Amyot;  there  it  is  in  North's  text,  and  Shakespeare  accepted  the  inteipretation 
which  he  preferred  as  most  in  harmony  with  his  idea  of  his  characters ;  I  do  not 
sec  what  right  we  have  to  change  his  words  because  we  happen  to  think  that  Caesar 
is  thereby  rendered  pusilanimous.     If  Shakespeare  represents  Caesar  as  conscious  of 
his  inferiority  in  single  combat  with  Anthony  (and  he  might  very  well  be  so,  he  was 
much  younger  and  in  delicate  health),  and,  therefore,  assured  that  he  would  fall,  was 
afraid  to  meet  Anthony,  have  we  any  right  to  change  Shakespeare's  words  and  remodel 
his  characters?      In  the  original  Greek   there  is  no    ambiguity  :—LX XV.   TiiOav 
^  *AvT6viof  iirtfiiref  Katoapa  fiovo^ax^ai  irpoKoXoiftevo^.     * ArroKpiva/ihov  d*  Ueivov, 
iroAAac  66ov^  *AvTtjvi<f)  napetvai  Oavarov^  avfjuppov^aCy  etc.     Nor  is  there  any  ambigu- 
ity in  the  Latin  version,  which,  it  is  said,  Amyot  followed  at  times : — « Porro  prooo- 


26o  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  iv,  sc.  i. 

Laugh  at  his  Challenge.  8 

Mece.     Cce/ar  muft  thinke, 
When  one  fo  great  begins  to  rage,  hee's  hunted  lo 

Euen  to  falling.     Giue  him  no  breath,  but  now 
Make  boote  of  his  diftrafUon  :  Neuer  anger 
Made  good  guard  for  it  felfe. 

Ccef.     Let  our  beft  heads  know, 
That  to  morrow,  the  laft  of  many  Battailes  1 5 

We  meane  to  fight.     Within  our  Files  there  are, 
Of  thofe  that  feru'd  Marke  Anthony  but  late, 
Enough  to  fetch  him  in.     See  it  done, 
And  Feaft  the  Army,  we  haue  (lore  to  doo% 
And  they  haue  eam'd  the  wafte.Poore  Anthony.    Exeunt  20 

8.  Laugh...  Challenge]  I  at  this  chal-         (Athen.  26  Apr.  1873.) 

lenge  laugh  ^^2^^.     I  laugh  at  his  chal-  14.  Z^/...^a</j]  Separate  line,  Theob. 

lenge  Upton,  Cap.  Ran.  et  seq. 

his]  this  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han.  15.  many]  Om.  Rowe  ii,  Pope. 

9.  muft]  needs  must  Ritson.  we  must  18.  done]  be  done  Pope,  + ,  Cap:  Steey. 
Walker,  Huds.     must  needs  Sta.  conj.  Var. '03, '13,  Ktly. 

cauit  denuo  per  nuntios  Antonius  Caesarem,  vt  solus  secum  certaret.  qui  respOdit,  Vias 
Antonio  multas  patdre  interritum.'  It  is  in  Amyot  that  the  ambiguity  is  to  be  found, 
and  North  is  exonerated : — '  Et  Antonius  envoya  une  austrefois  deffier  Caesar,  et  lay 
presenter  le  combat  d'homme  &  homme.  Csesar  luy  feit  response,  qu'il  avoit  beaucoup 
d^austres  moyens  de  mourir  que  celuy-ld* — p.  237,  ed.  1784.  Dryden  follows  Shake- 
speare :  Anthony  tells  Ventidius  that  Caesar's  answer  was,  '  He  had  more  wa3rs  than 
one  to  die.*  I  think  there  should  be,  in  the  present  line,  a  period  after  '  dye  * ;  it  con- 
cludes the  message.  '  Laugh '  is,  it  seems  to  me,  in  the  imperative,  and  the  sentence 
is,  in  effect,  <  In  the  meantime  Let's  laugh  at  his  challenge.' — Ed. 

12.  Make  boote  of]  Johnson  :  That  is,  take  advantage. 

14.  Let  our  best  beads  know,  etc.]  Theobald  :  I  might  very  reasonably  return 
Mr  Pope  one  of  his  own  Civilities  here,  and  say,  the  intermediate  Line  [namely, 
*  That  to-morrow  the  last  of  battels,*  as  Pope  has  it,  omitting  the  word  *  many ']  is  in 
his  Ear  a  Verse.  But  I  have  a  better  Opinion  of  his  Ear  than  I  have  of  his 
Industry^  one  of  the  Qualifications  necessary  to  a  good  Editor.  A  small  Observation 
of  the  Measure,  mix*d  with  a  little  Diligence  in  collating,  might  have  Uught  him  to 
regulate  the  Lines,  and  to  have  avoided  this  hobbling,  inharmonious,  Monster  of  a 
Verse. 

18.  See  it  done]  Dyce  (ed.  ii)  :  In  all  probability,  *  See  it  be  done.  [See  Text, 
Notes,] — Abbott  (§  484)  quotes  this  line  as  an  illustration  of  his  rule  that  nK>no- 
syllables  containing  diphthot^^s  and  long  vowels  are  often  so  emphasised  as  to  dis- 
pense with  an  unaccented  syllable.  Accordingly  he  scans  the  line  thus :  Eji6ugh  | 
to  ffctch  I  him  in.  |  Sie  \  it  d6ne.* — [It  is,  I  think,  the  necessary  pause  after  a  fixll 
stop  that  supplies  the  lacking  syllable.  And,  furthermore,  there  should  be  no 
emphasis  on  '  See  * ;  if  there  be  any  emphasis  in  so  trivial  a  command,  it  lies  on 
•done.* --Ed.] 


ACTiv,  sc.  u.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  26 1 

\Scene  11  \ 

Enter  Anthony ^  Cleopatra ^  EnobarbuSy  Chamtiany 

Iras  J  AlexaSjWith  others. 

Ant.     He  will  not  fight  with  me,  Domitian  ? 

Eno.     No  ? 

Ant.     Why  (hould  he  not  ?  5 

Eno. He  thinks,  being  twenty  times  of  better  fortune, 
He  is  twenty  men  to  one. 

Ant.     To  morrow  Soldier, 
By  Sea  and  Land  He  fight  :  or  I  will  liue, 

Or  bathe  my  dying  Honor  in  the  blood  lO 

Shall  make  it  liue  againe.     Woo't  thou  fight  well, 

Eno.     He  flrike,  and  cry,  Take  all. 
Ant.     Well  faid,  come  on  : 
Call  forth  my  Houfhold  Seruants,  lets  to  night 

Enter  3  or  4  Seruitors.  15 

Be  bounteous  at  our  Meale.     Giue  me  thy  hand, 

Scene  II.  Rowe  et  seq.  7.  He  is]  H^s  Popc,+,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

AlexaDdria.  Rowe.   Palace  in  Alex-  11.  JVoc^t]  ff^»7  Cap. 

andria.  Theob.  well."]  well?  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 

1-58.  Om.  Gar.  12.  Take  all]  As  quotation,  Theob. 

2.  Alexas,]  Om.  Cap.  14.  le/s]  lei's  FJF^. 

3.  Domitian/]  F,.  Domitian.  F^F^.  15.  Enter...]  Glo.  Cam.  Enter Serv- 
Dcmitius  ?  Han.  Knt,  Ktly.  Domitius.  ants.  Rowe.  Enter  some  Domesticks. 
Rowe  et  ceL  Cap.     After  meale^  line  16,  Dyce,  Sta. 

4.  Nof]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.  No.  Theob.  Glo.  Cam. 

et  seq.  16.  bounteous]  bountious  F  . 

4.  No?]  Capell  (i,  42):  <No.'  So  is  this  monosyllable  pointed  in  the  three 
latter  modems  [Theobald,  Hanmer,  Warburton],  and  rightly  ;  for  this  sullen  affirm- 
ative negation  expresses  admirably  the  state  of  the  speaker's  mind  at  this  time. 

6.  twenty  times  of  better  fortune]  For  other  instances  of  the  *  transposition  of 
adverbs,'  such  as  *  of  twenty  times  better,'  see  Abbott,  §  420,  and  Shakespeare, 
passim. 

IX.  Woo't  thou]  Abbott  (§  241) :  Thou  is  often  omitted  after  would' st,  or  per- 
haps merged,  in  the  form  '  woo't,'  as  '  wilt  thou '  becomes  wilta.  Sometimes  thou  is 
inserted  [as  here].  See  IV,  xv,  76. — Franz  (§  20  a)  :  The  sporadic  forms  wot^ 
wdt^  wodt  for  wilt^  and  wooll  for  will^  correspond  to  the  Middle  English  wolt  and 
wol :  in  the  following  list  [containing  the  present  passage]  the  /  is  suppressed,  as  in 
the  present  English  would. 

12.  Take  all]  Johnson  :  Let  the  survivor  take  all.  No  composition  ;  victory  or 
death. 


262  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  iv.  sc.  ii. 

Thou  haft  bin  righdy  honeft,  fo  haft  thou^  \^ 

Thou ,  and  thou,  and  thou  :  you  haue  feru'd  me  well, 
And  Kings  haue  beene  your  fellowes. 

Cleo.    What  meanes  this  ?  20 

Eno!Y\s  one  of  thofe  odde  tricks  which  forow  fiioots 
Out  of  the  minde. 

Ant.     And  thou  art  honeft  too : 
I  wifli  I  could  be  made  fo  many  men, 

And  all  of  you  clapt  vp  together,  in  25 

An  Anthony  :  that  I  might  do  you  feruice, 
So  good  as  you  haue  done. 

Omnes.  The  Gods  forbid. 

Ant.    Well,  my  good  Fellowes,  wait  on  me  to  night : 
Scant  not  my  Cups,  and  make  as  much  of  me  I  30 

As  when  mine  Empire  was  your  Fellow  too, 
And  fuffer'd  my  command. 

Cleo.     What  does  he  meane  ? 

Eno.    To  make  his  Followers  weepe.  34 

17.  bin]  beene  Ff.  Steev.  Varr.  Knt,  Sing.  Ktly. 

18.  Thou\  And  thou  Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  21.  tricks]  freaks  YldJi.  traits  Vfaxb, 
Varr.  Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Dyce  ii,  iii.  27.  }^ou  haue  done"]  yat^ve  d<me  me 
Thou  too  Anon.  ap.  Cam.  Walker,  Huds. 

you  haue]  you've  Pope,  +  ,  Dyce  28.  Omnes.]  Ff,  Ro we, +  .  Dom.C«p. 

ii,  iii.    you  have  all  Ktly.  All.  Glo.     Serv.  Mai.  et  cet. 

20-22.  [Aside.  Cap.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  32.  fuffer'd]  fuffered  Ff,  Rowe. 

Cam.  33,  34.  Aside,  Cap.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo. 

21.  [Aside.  Johns.  Varr.   Mai.   Ran.  Cam.  Ktly. 

x8.  Thou]  Of  Rowe,  who  reads  *And  thou,*  and  of  those  editors  who  follow  him, 
Knight  justly  says  :  <  They  cannot  understand  how  the  pause,  which  is  necessary  in 
addressing  various  persons,  stands  in  the  place  of  a  syllable.'  On  the  other  hand, 
Dyce  (ed.  ii)  dogmatically  asserts  that  Rowe's  addition,  ^if</  is  '  positively  required.' 
By  whom?    Apparently  not  by  Shakespeare. — Ed. 

21.  odde  tricks]  Warburton,  to  make  the  metaphor  suggested  by  < shooting' 
consistent,  changed  *  tricks  *  to  traits^  the  French  for  *  arrows,  shafts.' — Johnson  :  I 
know  not  what  obscurity  the  editors  find  in  this  passage.  *  Trick '  is  here  used  in 
the  sense  in  which  it  is  uttered  every  day  by  every  mouth,  elegant  and  vulgar ;  yet 
Warburton,  in  his  rage  of  Gallicism,  changes  it  to  traits. 

27.  you  haue  done]  Walker  ( Crit,  ii,  254)  :  Does  not  the  sense  imperatively 
require, — <  So  good  as  y'  have  done  me  V  (This  instance,  indeed,  might  perhaps  be 
otherwise  accounted  for ;  omissions,  at  least  at  the  end  of  the  line,  are  not  unfrequent 
in  the  latter  part  of  this  play. ) — Dyce  (ed.  ii)  quotes  the  foregoing  and  asks,  '  But 
is  not  "me"  implied  in  the  old  text?' — R.  G.  White  (Studies,  p.  371)  also  quotes 
Walker's  question,  and  replies,  *  Not  at  all.  The  sense  is  perfect,  like  the  rhythm, 
as  anyone  may  see.' 


ACT  IV,  sc.  ii.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  263 

Ant.     Tend  me  to  night ;  35 

May  be,  it  is  the  period  of  your  duty, 
Haply  you  fhall  not  fee  me  more,  or  if, 
A  mangled  fhadow.     Perchance  to  morrow, 
YouH  ferue  another  Mafter.     I  looke  on  you, 
As  one  that  takes  his  leaue.     Mine  honed  Friends,  40 

I  tume  you  not  away,  but  like  a  Mafter 
Married  to  your  good  feruice,  ftay  till  death  : 
Tend  me  to  night  two  houres,  I  aske  no  more. 
And  the  Gods  yeeld  you  for't. 

Eno,     What  meane  you(Sir)  45 

To  giue  them  this  difcomfort  ?  Looke  they  weepe. 
And  I  an  Afle,  am  Onyon-ey'd;  for  fhame, 
Transforme  vs  not  to  women. 

Ant,     Ho,  ho,  ho :  49 

36.  May\  *May  Theob.  38,  55.  to  morrow]  io-morrow  Pope. 
37»  38-  or  if.  A]  Ff.    or  if, — A  Theob.            43.  to  night]  to-night  Pope. 

Warb.     or  if  You  do,  a  Ktly.  44.  yedd]  shidd ]ohns. 

jl^.  Perchance]  It  may  chance  Vo^,-\-.  46.  they]  you  ¥ij  "Ro^t. 

Nay f  perchance  Steev.  conj.  47.  Onyon-ey* d;]  onion  eyd,  Johns. 

37.  or  if  ]  Johnson:  *Or  if  you  see  me  more,  you  will  see  me 'a  mangled 
shadow,'  only  the  external  form  of  what  I  was. — [For  instances  of  the  omission  of 
so  after  'if,*  see  Abbott,  §  64 ;  or  Franz,  §  297.] 

38.  Perchance]  Capell  (i,  43)  :  This  line  is  not  one  bit  the  better,  for  perfect- 
ing it  by  reading — *■  It  may  chance,'  instead  of  '  Perchance ' :  verses  wanting  measure, 
— that  is,  their  full  measure, — have,  upon  some  occasions,  a  singular  beauty ;  that  in 
question  is  one  of  them,  as  being  a  kind  of  painting  of  the  disturb' d  mind  of  the  per- 
son it  comes  from. — [It  is  well  worth  while  to  refer  here  to  North,  merely  to  see  how 
▼ery  closely  Shakespeare  has  followed  him  throughout  this  scene.] 

44.  yeeld  you]  That  is,  reward  you.  See,  if  needful,  *  God-eyld  vs,*  Macbeth 
(Revised  ed.),  I,  vi,  19  in  this  edition. 

47.  On3ron-ey'd]  Johnson  :  I  have  my  eyes  as  full  of  tears  as  if  they  had  been 
fretted  by  onions. — [This  is  the  second  time  that  Enobarbus  has  referred  to  this  effect 
of  onions.     See  I,  ii,  192.] 

49.  Ho,  ho,  ho]  Murray  (N.  E.  D.  s.  v.  Ho,  j^*,)  :  An  exclamation  express- 
ing, according  to  the  intonation,  surprise,  admiration,  exultation  (often  ironical),  tri- 
umph, taunting.  4.  Repeated  ho/  ho!  or  ho!  ho!  ho!  it  expresses  derision  or 
derisive  laughter.  As  in  Puck's  call  to  Demetrius :  *  Ho,  ho,  ho ;  Coward,  why 
com' St  thou  not?' — Mid.  N.  D.  Ill,  ii,  421.— [Boswell  says  that  this  laughter  of 
Anthony,  like  Cleopatra's  *  Ha,  ha,  give  me  to  dnnk  mandagora,' — I,  v,  4,  is  hysterical, 
which,  if  true  (and  I  doubt  hysterics  in  both  cases),  gives  us  no  clue  as  to  the  tone  in 
which  it  was  uttered.  To  me,  it  sounds  like  an  honest  laugh,  merely  somewhat 
forced,  with  no  tinge  of  derision  in  it, — how  could  there  be  any  derision  or  con- 
tempt, when  it  is  followed  by,  <  Grace  grow  where  these  drops  fall ! '     Under  <  Ho, 


264 


THE   TR AG  ED  IE   OF 


[act  nr,  sc.  iii. 


Now  the  Witch  take  me,  if  I  meant  it  thus. 

Grace  grow  where  thofe  drops  fall(  my  hearty  Friends  ) 

You  take  me  in  too  dolorous  a  fenfe, 

For  I  fpake  to  you  for  your  comfort,  did  defire  you 

To  bume  this  night  with  Torches  :  Kno\y  (my  hearts) 

I  hope  well  of  to  morrow,  and  will  leade  you. 

Where  rather  He  expefl  viflorious  life, 

Then  death,and  Honor.     Let^s  to  Supper,  come. 

And  drowne  confideration.  Exeunt. 

[Scene  ///.] 

Enter  a  Company  of  Soldiours. 

1 .  Sol.     Brother,  goodnight  :  to  morrow  is  the  day. 

2 .  Sol.     It  will  determine  one  way  :  Fare  you  well. 
Heard  you  of  nothing  ftrange  about  the  ftreets. 

1  Nothing  :  what  newes  ? 

2  Belike  'tis  but  a  Rumour, good  night  to  you. 
I  Well  fir,  good  night. 


50 


55 


58 


51.  fall(my„.Friend5y\  Ff.  fall;  my 
„, friends y  Rowe  ii,  Pope,  fall!  my.,, 
friatds,  Theob.  et  cet. 

52.  in  too]  a  too  Ft 

53.  For.„you'\  I speake  t*you  Pope  i. 
/  speak  f'you  Pope  ii.  /  spake  t^you 
Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Johns.  /  spake  to 
you  Cap.  Var.  '73,  Steev.  Var.  '03,  *I3. 

58.  End  of  Act  III.  Kemble. 
Scene  continued,  Rowe,  Pope.   Scene 
III.  Han.  Johns,  et  seq.     Om.  Kemble. 
A  Court  of  Guard  befoxe  the  Palace. 


Theob. 

1-35.  Om.  Gar. 

1.  Enter...]  Enter  two  Soldiers,  to 
their  Guard.  Cap.  Steer,  et  seq. 

2.  goodnight]  good  night  Ff,  Rowe. 
good-night  Pope. 

to  morrow]  to-morrow  Pope. 

4.  flreets.]  streets  f  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 

5-10.  Nothing. .  .goodnight  ]  Lines  end, 
rumour y  „, Soldiers,  ...good  night.  Steer. 
Var. '03,  '13,  Knt,  Sing.  Ktly. 

6.  to]  Om.  Rowe  ii. 


j^','  Murray  gives  the  definition  '  a  call  to  stop,  to  cease,'  etc.  (whence  our  teamster's 
whoa).  Having  found  certain  passages  where  ho  is  thus  used,  Holt  White,  in  the 
Var.  of  1821,  gives  a  long  note  to  prove  that  this  meaning  obtains  here. — Ed.J 

50.  the  Witch  take  me]  I  suppose  this  means,  may  the  very  spirit  of  sorcery, 
which  alone  could  so  pervert  my  words,  blast  me  if,  etc. — Ed. 

51.  Grace  grow]  Steevens  :  So  in  Rich.  II:  *  Here  did  she  faU  a  tear;  here 
in  this  place  I'll  set  a  bank  of  rue,  sour  herd  of  grace.*  [Ill,  iv,  105.] 

53.  For  I  spake  to  you  for,  etc.]  Walker  (Crit.  iii,  306) :  Rather, '  I  spoke 
t*you  for,'  etc. — [Theobald's  reading,  see  Text.  Notes.] 

57.  Then  death,  and  Honor]  Upton  :  That  is,  an  honourable  death. — [It  may 
be  so ;  but  it  is,  also,  possible  to  understand  the  sentence  as  meaning  *  I'll  expect  a 
victorious  life  rather  than  death,  and  I'll  expect  honour.' — Ed.] 


ACT  IV,  sc.  iii.]      ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 


265 


They  meete  other  Soldiers. 
2  Souldiers,haue  carefull  Watcfl. 

1  And  you  :  Goodnight,goodnight 

They  place  themfelues  in  euery  comer  of  the  Stage. 

2  Heere  we  :  and  if  to  morrow 

Our  Nauie  thriue^  I  haue  an  abfolute  hope 
Our  Landmen  will  (land  vp. 

1  'Tis  a  braue  Army,  and  full  of  purpofe. 

Muficke  of  the  Hoboyes  is  vnder  the  Stage. 

2  Peace,  what  noife  ? 

1  Lift  lift. 

2  Hearke. 

I  Muficke  i'th'Ayre. 

3  Vnder  the  earth. 

4  It  fignes  well,  do's  it  not  ? 


8 


10 


IS 


20 


22 


8.  They ...]  They  meet  with ...  Ff, 
Rowe.  Enter  two  other  Soldiers.  Cap. 
Mai.  et  seq. 

9.  Souldiers'\  Ff.     Soldiers  Rowe. 

10.  I  And^  3.  S.  And  Cap.  Mai.  et 
scq.  (subs.) 

you  :'\yoUt  Rowe  ii,  Pope,  Theob. 
you,  Johns.  Coll.  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam. 

11.  They...]  The  two  first  go  to  their 
Posts.  Cap.  Mai.  et  seq.  (subs.) 

in]  on  Johns.  Var.  '73. 

12.  2  Heere\  4.  S.  Here  Cap.  Mai.  et 
leq.  (subs.) 

we :\  we:  [going  to  theirs]  Cap. 
Mai.  et  seq.  (subs.) 

and  ifl  an  if  Walker  (Cri/.  ii, 

155)- 

14-18.   Our  Landmen  ...  liji.'\  Lines 

end,  army t  .,.  list !  Steev.  Varr.   Knt, 


Sing.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 

15.  1  *  Tw]  3.  S. '  Tis  Cap.  Mai.  et  seq. 
(subs.) 

'  Tis.„purpofe'\  Lines  end,  army^ 
...purpose  Cap.  Hal. 

16.  Hoboyes]  hautbo3rs  Pope. 

17.  2  Peace"]  4.  S.  Peace  Cap.  Mai.  et 
seq.  (subs.) 

19-24.  Hearke  ...  T  fay]  Lines  end, 
earth...! say  !  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam. 

19.  [advancing  from  their  Posts.  Cap. 

20.  Vth']ith'Y^^.   rM<r  Cap.  et  seq. 
20-24.  Muficke...meane  ?]  Lines  end, 

welly  ...mean  ?  Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Knt, 
Sing.  Sta. 
22.  4  //]  //  Ff,  Rowe,  +  . 

fignes]  F,,  Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 
finges  Fj.  ftngs  F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  signs 
Han.  Cap.  et  seq. 


16.  Musicke  ...  is  vnder  the  Stage]  Steevens  :  Holinshed,  describing  a  very 
carious  device  or  spectacle  presented  before  Queen  Elizabeth,  insists  particularly  on 
the  secret  or  mysterious  music  of  some  felicitous  n3niiphs,  'which,*  he  adds,  'sure 
had  beene  a  noble  hearing,  and  the  more  melodious  for  the  varietie  thereof,  and 
bicaose  it  should  come  secretlie  and  strangelie  out  of  the  earths — vol.  iii,  p.  1297. — 
[It  is  hardly  correct  to  say  that  the  spectacle  was  presented  before  Queen  Elizabeth  ; 
in  fact  the  show  did  not  come  off  at  all.  Just  as  the  queen  was  about  *  to  come  unto 
hir  coch, . . .  there  fell  such  a  showre  of  raine  (&  in  the  necke  thereof  came  such  a  ter- 
rible thunder)  that  euerie  one  of  vs  were  driuen  to  seeke  for  couert,  insomuch  . .  .  that 
it  was  a  greater  pastime  to  see  vs  looke  like  drowned  rats,  than  to  haue  beheld  the 
▼ttermost  of  the  shewes  rehearsed.' — Ed.] 

22.  It  signes  well]  Theobald  :  That  is,  is  it  a  good  omen  ?    Does  it  portend 


266  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  iv,  sc.  ir. 

3  No.  •  23 

1  Peace  I  fay  :  What  (hould  this  meane  ? 

2  'Tis  the  God  Hercules^  whom  Anthony  loued^  25 
Now  leaues  him. 

1  Walke,  let's  fee  if  other  Watchmen 
Do  heare  what  we  do  ? 

2  How  now  Maifters  ?  Speak  together. 
Otnnes.     How  now?  how  now?  do  you  heare  this  ?  30 
I  I,  is't  not  ftrange  ? 

3  Do  you  heare  Mafters  ?  Do  you  heare  ? 

I  Follow  the  noyfe  fo  farre  as  we  haue  quarter. 
Let's  fee  how  it  will  giue  off. 

Otnnes.     Content  :  'Tis  ftrange.  Exeunt.  35 

\Scene  IV\ 

Enter  Anthony  and  Cleopatraywith  others. 
Ant.     EroSy  mine  Armour  Eros.  2 

23.  3  NoJ]  2  Sold.  No.  Rowe,  +  .  30.  how  now  f  „. this  ^'^  Separate  line, 

24.  IVhat ,.,  meane P"]   Separate  line,  Cap.  Steev.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Djce. 
Dyce.  [several  speaking  together.  Mai. 

25.  whom  Knihouy  loued'\  Who  loved  et  seq.  (subs.) 

^«M<?ify  Rowe,-^,  Coll.  MS,  Huds.  31.  /,]  F,.  Om. F^F^, Rowe,  + .  Ay : 

27.  Walke,"]  Walk;  Cap.  et  seq.  (subs.)         Cap.  et  seq. 

28-3 1 .    Do  . .  .Jlrange  /]   Lines   end,  34.  it  will  ]  *  twill  Pope, + ,  Cap.  Steer. 

How  now?  ...strange?  Steev.  Var.  '03,  Varr.  Knt,  Sing. 

'13,  Knt.  gi^^]  go  Cap.  conj. 

28.  [going.  Cap.  35.  Omnes.]  Ff,  Rowe,+,  Coll.  Wh. 
do?]  do.  Theob.  et  seq.  All.  Glo.  Cam.  Sold,  [several  q>eak- 
[Enter  other    Soldiers,   meeting  ing]  Mai.  et  cet.  (subs.) 

them.  Cap.     They  advance  to  another  Scene  III.  Pope,  Warb.     Scene  IV. 

Post.  Mai.  et  seq.  (subs.)  Han.  Johns,  et  seq.     Om.  Kemble. 

29.  2  How]  I.  2.  3.  4.  How  Cap.  Cleopatra's  Palace.  Pope. 

Speak  together.]  Om.  Mai.  I.  Enter...]  Enter... Charmian,  Irms, 

30.  Omnes.]  Sold.  Cap.     All.  Glo.  and  others,  Att.  Cap. 


well  to  our  General ? — Walker  (^Crit.  iii,  306)  unaccountably  prefers  sings  (see 
Text.  Notes). 

25.  whom  Anthony  loued]  Capell  (i,  43)  :  The  words  are  right,  and  should 
not  have  been  chang'd  by  the  modems  into — who  lo^d  Antony  ;  for  thus  the  author 
who  fumish'd  them, — *  they  thought  that  it  was  the  god  unto  whom  Antonius  bare 
singular  devotion :  *  But  the  Poet  has  put  a  wrong  god,  and  perhaps  by  design ;  for 
Bacchus,  the  god  his  author  intended,  could  not  stand  in  his  verse  along  with  these 
words  :  Hercules,  he  knew,  was  honoured  by  Antony,  as  well  as  Bacchus ;  and  he 
might  think  it  a  matter  indifferent,  which  god  these  same  signs  were  ascrib'd  to :  'tis 
observable,  he  speaks  only  of  *  musick  * ;  and  has  omitted  the  other  signs  mentioQ'dt 
which  determine  them  to  have  proceeded  from  Bacchus. 


ACT  IV,  sc.  iv.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  267 

Cleo.     Sleepe  a  little.  3 

Ant.     NomyChucke.    £r^j,come  mine  Armor  ^^j. 

Enter  Eros,  5 

Come  good  Fellow,put  thine  Iron  on, 
If  Fortune  be  not  ours  to  day,  it  is 
Becaufe  we  braue  her.     Come. 

Cleo.     Nay,  He  helpe  too,  Anthony. 
What's  this  for  ?  Ah  let  be,  let  be,  thou  art  lO 

The  Armourer  of  my  heart  :  Falfe,  falfe  :  This,  this, 
Sooth-law  He  helpe  :  Thus  it  muft  bee.  12 

5.  Enter  Eros]  ...with  Armour.  Cap.  10,  ii.  Ah  let  be^  ...  this^  Ant  Ah, 

6.  good^  my  good  Kowe, -^  ,Csip.  Ktly.         /et  be^  ...  this.  Mai.  et  scq. 

thin/]  mine  Han.  Sing.  Dyce,  Coll.  12.  Sooth-law]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.  Sooth- 

ii,  iii  (MS),  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Ktly,  Wh.  ii.  -/a,  Thcob.  Warb.  Johns.     Sooth,  la  I 

8.  [Eros  arms  him.  Cap.  Coll.     Soothe  la.  Cap.  et  cet 

9.  Anthony.]   Oql    Han.   Johns,    et  Sooth4aruf ,,,  bee.]  QX^Xi,  Sooth-la^ 
seq.  ...be,  Han.  Johns,  et  seq. 

la  What^s  this  for?]  Continued  to  [Cleopatra  puts  the  armour  on 

Qeop.  Mai.  et  seq.  Antony.  Johns. 

ip,  II.  What's.„this,]  Ant  What's  Thus  it  muft  bee.]  Given  to  An- 

...this,  Han.  Johns.  Cap.  Varr.  thony,  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS). 


6.  Come  good  Fellow]  Dyce  (ed.  ii) :  That  the  word  which  has  dropt  out  of 
the  folio  in  this  line  was  my  (Rowe's  addition)  is  proved  by  Antony's  next  speech 
but  one,  *  Seest  thou,  my  good  fellow  ?  * 

6.  put  thine  Iron  on]  Malone  :  <  Thine  iron '  is  the  iron  which  thou  hast  in 
thy  hand,  that  is,  Antony's  armour. — Coluer  (Notes,  etc.  p.  498) :  Surely  'thine* 
ought  to  be  as  the  MS  renders  it,  '  Put  mine  iron  on.' — Anon.  {JBlackwood,  Oct 
1853,  p.  468,  thus  answers  Collier)  :  Not  at  all ;  either  word  will  do  ;  but  <  thine '  is 
more  consonant  with  ordinary  usage.  A  gentleman  asks  his  butler,  not  '  have  you 
cleaned  my  plate  ? '  but  *  have  you  cleaned  your  plate  ? '  meaning  my  plate  of  which 
ycu  have  the  charge.  Eros  had  the  charge  of  Antony's  armour. — Dyce  (ed.  ii)  : 
[•Thine'  of  the  Folio,  with  Malone' s  note,]  is  an  utterly  improbable  reading  and 
explanation,  since  just  before  Antony  has  twice  said  *  mine  armour.'  Nor,  as  the 
context  shows,  is  Antony  here  speaking  of  Eros' s  armour, — he  afterwards  bids  Eros 
'put  on  his  defences.' — [The  reason  given  by  Dyce  which  renders  « thine'  'utterly 
improbable '  is  to  me  precisely  the  reason  which  renders  it  extremely  probable.  It 
would  be  *  damnable  iteration '  indeed,  to  have  called  out  <  mine  armour '  three  times. 
Is  it  not  universal  that  an  exclamation  or  a  question  is  varied  at  the  second  or  third 
repetition  of  its  substance  ?  It  is,  to  me,  eminently  natural  that  Anthony  should  have 
changed  his  twice-uttered  impatient  summons,  '  mine  armour,'  into  '  thine  iron.'  If 
•  thine'  is  to  be  changed  to  mine  why  should  not,  by  Dyce's  rule,  *  iron '  be  changed 
to  armour  f  An  adequate  reason  why  •  thine'  refers  to  Anthony's  armour,  and  not 
Eros's,  is  given,  I  think,  by  *  Anon.'  who,  it  has  been  said,  was  Lettsom. — Ed.] 

9-12.  Nay,  He  helpe  too,  ...  it  must  bee]  Hanmer  was  the  first  to  attempt 
to  disentangle  these  lines  ;  this  he  did  so  far  as  to  remove  *  Anthony '  from  the  end  of 
Cleopatra's  speech,  and  give  it  to  *  Ant.'  by  placing  it  before  the  next  line,  where  it 


268  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  iv,  sc.  iv. 

Ant    Well,  well,  we  (hall  thriue  now.  13 

Seeft  thou  my  good  Fellow.     Go,put  on  thy  defences. 

Eros.     Briefely  Sir.  i  J 

Cleo.     Is  not  this  buckled  well  ? 

Ant.     Rarely,  rarely : 
He  that  vnbuckles  this,  till  we  do  pleafe 
To  daft  for  our  Repofe,  (hall  heare  a  ftorme.  19 

13.  Well,  well,']  Separate  line,  Han.  17.  Rarefy^']  Oh  I  rarefy,  Han.  Cap. 

Cap.  Var.  '78  et  scq.  Ktly. 

13.  14.  we  Jhall ,„  Fell<no\  One  line,  19.  dafi]doftYi,  </^7 Rowe,  Pope. 
Han.  Cap.  Var.  '78  et  seq.  doff  it  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.     daff't  Dyce, 

14.  Fellow,]  fellow  fThtoh,  et  seq.  Glo.  Cam.     dojgrt  Theob.  et  cet. 

15.  Eros.]  Eno.  F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  heare]  bear  CoU.  ii,  iii  (MS), 
Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Sing. 

was  almost  as  ill  placed  as  it  was  before.  Then  he  gave  line  12  :  <  Sooth-law  lie 
helpe :  Thus  it  must  bee  *  to  Cleopatra,  whose  it  has  remained  ever  since.  Capxll, 
in  his  text,  followed  Hanmer,  but  in  his  Notes  (i,  43)  he  says  that  he  *now  thinks' 
« Antony'  is  *  better  placed  before  «*  Ah,"  and  the  words  *«  What's  this  for? "  ghren 
to  Qeopatra,  who,  in  speaking  them,  takes  up  some  of  the  armour.*  Malx>nb 
(1790)  adopted  this  suggestion  of  Capell  (without  acknowledgement)  and  his  text 
has  been  followed  ever  since.  All  this  is  set  forth  piecemeal  in  the  Text,  Notes;  but 
it  is  satis&ctory  to  have  before  the  eyes  the  undissected  modem  text,  as  follows : 

•  Cleop,  Nay,  1*11  help  too. 

What's  this  for? 

Ant,  Ah,  let  be,  let  be  I  thou  art 

The  armourer  of  my  heart : — false,  false ;  this,  this. 

Cleop,  Sooth,  la,  1*11  help :  Thus  it  must  be.'— Ed. 

12.  Sooth-law]  Earle  (§  197):  'La'  is  that  interjection  which  in  modem 
English  is  spelt  lo.  It  was  used,  in  Saxon  times,  both  as  an  emotional  cry  and  as 
a  sign  of  the  respectful  vocative  .  .  .  The  *  la  *  of  Saxon  times  has  none  of  the 
indicating  or  pointing  force  which  lo  now  has,  and  which  fits  it  to  go  so  naturally 
with  an  adverb  of  locality,  as  «  Lo  here,'  or  « Lo  there.'  While  lo  became  the  liter- 
ary form  of  the  word,  *  la '  has  still  continued  to  exist  more  obscurely,  at  least  down 
to  a  recent  date,  even  if  it  be  not  still  in  use.  '  La  *  may  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of 
feminine  to  A?. — [Also  see  Twelfth  Night,  III,  iv,  104;  Lov^s  Lab.  Lost,  V,  ii, 
460;   IVint,  Tale,  II,  iii,  64,  where  the  foregoing  note  substantially  appears.] 

12.  Thus  it  must  bee]  Collier  (ed.  ii) :  These  words  have  usually  been 
assigned  to  Cleopatra,  but  it  appears  by  the  MS  that  they  belong  to  Antony,  who  is 
instructing  Cleopatra,  and  who  adds  <  well,  well,'  when  what  he  wished  has  been 
accomplished  by  her. — [Cleopatra  has  made  one  blunder,  and  then  having  adjusted 
a  piece  of  armour  correctly,  exclaims  exultingly :  *  Thus  it  must  be  I ' — Ed.] 

15.  Briefely  Sir]  Johnson  :  That  is,  quickly,  sir. — [Or  does  it  not  mean,  *in  a 
minute '  ?  or  *  presently,'  as  we  now  use  the  word  ? — Ed.] 

19.  daft]  See  Text,  Azotes. 

19.  heare  a  storme]  Coluer  (ed.  ii) :   The  MS  instructs  us  to  read  <  bear  a 


ACT  IV,  sc  iv.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  269 

Thou  fumbled  Eros^  and  my  Queenes  a  Squire  20 

More  tight  at  this,  then  thou  :  Difpatch,     O  Loue, 
That  thou  couldft  fee  my  Warres  to  day,  and  kneVft 
The  Royall  Occupation,  thou  fhould'ft  fee 
A  Workeman  in't. 

Enter  an  Armed  Soldier.  25 

Good  morrow  to  thee,  welcome. 
Thou  look'ft  like  him  that  knowes  a  warlike  Charge  : 
To  bufineffe  that  we  loue,  we  rife  betime. 
And  go  too^t  with  delight. 

Soul.     A  thoufand  Sir,  early  though't  be,  haue  on  their  30 

Riueted  trim,  and  at  the  Port  expeft  you.  Showt. 

Trumpets  Flourijh. 
Enter  Captaines^   and  Souldiers. 

Alex.    The  Mome  is  faire  :  Good  morrow  Generall.  34 

21.  thm  thou]  Om.    Ff,  Rowe.  '85.     Capt.  A  Dycc. 

24.  Mf*/]  in  it  Var.  '73.  30,  31.  ^  thou/and, „you,']  Lines  end, 

25.  Enter...]  Enter  an  Officer,  arm'd.  5iV,  ...  trim^  ...  you.  Rowe  ct  scq. 
Cap.  (after  line  23.)     Enter  a  Captain  30.  though' t]    though  it  Varr.   Mai. 
armed.  Dyce.  Ran.  Steev.  Var.  '03,  '  13,  Sing.  Ktly. 

29.  too't]  F,.     t€^t  FjF^.    to  it  Varr.  31.  Showt]  Shout  within.  Cap. 
Mai.  Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  34.  Alex.  The]  Capt.  The  Rowtf,  +  , 

30.  Soul.  A]  I.  O.  A  Cap.  Mai.  Steev.  Varr.  Ran.  Coll.  Sing.  Wh.  Glo.  Cam. 
Vair.  Knt,  Sta.  (subs. )   Off.  A  Var.  '78,  2.  O.  The  Cap.  et  cet.  (subs.) 

ftorm,'  in  reference  to  the  blows  the  man  must  receive  who  unbuckled  the  armour 
until  the  wearer  pleased. — [If  the  reference  be  to  the  blows  the  foe  must  receive, 
which  is  doubtful,  he  could  quite  as  well  *  hear '  them  pelting  on  his  armour  as  bear 
them. — Ed.] 

21.  More  tight  at  this]  Steevens:  'Tight'  is  handy,  adroit. 

25.  an  Armed  Soldier]  Dyce  :  What  is  said  to  him  by  Antony  shows  that  he  is 
not  one  of  the  common  file.     [See  Text.  Notes,] 

28.  betime]  For  the  varying  use  of  such  adverbs  as  afierward{s),  downward{s)t 
j0rward{s)f  betime(s\  etc.,  see  Franz  (§91)  where  the  conclusion  is  reached  that, 
in  colloquial  language,  the  modem  tendency  is  to  retain  the  j,  albeit  the  dropping  of 
die  s  still  continues,  especially  in  the  written  language.  See  also  §  262. — [With 
Shake^>eare's  printers  the  two  forms  seem  to  be  used  indifferently ;  see  '  betimes '  in 
fine  38.  Abbott  (§25)  does  not,  as  far  as  I  can  find,  include  betime{s)  in  his  list 
—Ed.] 

31.  Riueted  trim]  That  is,  their  equipment  or  armour  which  is  all  riveted. 
31.  Port]  That  is,  the  gate. 

34.  The  Mome  is  faire,  etc.]  Capell  (i,  44) :  This  speech,  in  the  folio's,  is  pre- 
ceded by  the  letters — A/ex.  meaning — Alexas;  in  the  modems,  by — Cdp.  mean- 
ing— captains :  The  first  was  set  aside  by  them,  and  rightly ;  for  Alexas  was  other- 
dispos'd  of,  as  we  find  in  [IV,  vi,  16]  ;  but  the  actor  of  that  part  having  nothing 


270 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  IV,  sc  iv. 


AIL     Good  morrow  Generall. 

Ant,     ^Tis  well  blowne  Lads. 
This  Morning,  like  the  fpirit  of  a  youth 
That  meanes  to  be  of  note,  begins  betimes. 
So,  fo  :  Come  giue  me  that,  this  way,  well-fed. 
Fare  thee  well  Dame,  what  ere  becomes  of  me, 
This  is  a  Soldiers  kiffe  :  rebukeable. 
And  worthy  (hamefuU  checke  it  were,  to  (land 
On  more  Mechanicke  Complement,  He  leaue  thee. 
Now  like  a  man  of  Steele,  you  that  will  fight. 
Follow  me  clofe.  He  bring  you  too't  :  Adieu.       Exeunt. 

Char,     Pleafe  you  retyre  to  your  Chamber  ? 


35 


40 


45 


36.  Lads\  Lad  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope. 

39.  Ma/,]  Ff,  Rowc.  that,—  Pope, 
Theob.  Warb.  Johns,  that.—  Han. 
that :  Cap.  et  cet 

this  way,  well-fed,  ]  what  ere  be^ 
conus  ofme^  Ff,  Rowe.  this  way — well 
/aid.  Pope  et  seq.  (subs.) 

40.  becomes^  become  F^. 

41.  [Kisses  her.  Johns. 

42.  checke"]  cheek  Theob.  ii,  Warb. 
(Corrected  in  MS,  N,  <Sr*  Qu,  8  Apr. 

'93). 


43.  Complement^']  compliment:  Theob. 
et  seq. 

43,  44-  Ihee,  Now,.. Steele ;\  Ft  tJkee, 
A'ow,  ...steel.  Rowe,  Pope,  thee  Now, 
...steel.  Theob.  et  seq. 

45.  Exeunt]  Exeunt  Eros,  Antony, 
Officers,  and  Alt  Cap. 

46.  you]  you,  Cap.  Var.  '78  et  seq. 
retyre]  to  retire  Rowe  ii,  Theob. 

Warb.  Var.  '73. 

Chamber/]  chamber.  Cap.  Coll. 
Dyce,  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal. 


more  to  do,  this  character  was  also  perform'd  by  him  ;  and  the  speech  that  is  given 
to't,  intitl'd  by  the  name  of  that  character  which  he  had  appear'd  in  before. — 
G.  Wtlkes  (p.  366)  :  The  mom  is  always  fair  in  Egypt.  1  have  been  assured  by 
£g3rptians  that  it  never  rains  above  Cairo,  on  the  Nile,  and  so  seldom  at  Alexandria 
(say  six  or  seven  times  a  year)  that  a  fair  sky  is  not  a  matter  for  remark.  Bacon 
would  not  have  fallen  into  this  mistake. 

36.  'Tis  well  blowne  Lads]  Delius  :  This  refers  to  the  Flourish  of  trumpets, 
which  make  themselves  heard. — [This  reference  to  the  Trumpets  is  followed  by 
Schmidt  {Lex.  s.  v.  Blow,  vb.  4),  by  Rolfe,  and  by  Wordsworth;  I  think 
rightly.  On  the  other  hand  Hudson  says  it  refers  *  to  the  morning  or  the  day  ;  the 
metaphor  being  implied  of  night  blossoming  into  day.'  Thus  also  Deightcw: 
'That  is,  in  full  blossom,  i.e.  the  sun  is  shining  brightly  in  the  sky.' — Ed.] 

37.  spirit]  In  the  present  line,  at  least.  Walker's  rule  for  the  monosyllabic 
pronunciation  of  *  spirit '  does  not  hold  good.     See  I,  ii,  143. — Ed. 

39.  Come  giue  me  that]  Wordsworth  :  This  is  addressed  to  Cleopatra.  •  That* 
is  another  piece  of  his  armour. 

39.  well-sed]  See  Schmidt  {Lex.  s.  v.  Say,  4,  2)  for  many  instances  where  this 
phrase  is  equivalent  to  *  well  done ! ' 

43.  On  more  Mechanicke  Complement]  Delius:  A  'mechanic  compliment' 
is  a  style  of  leave-taking  which  befits  the  common  people,  mechanics,  but  not  a  man 
of  steel,  a  warrior,  who  parts  from  his  mistress  only  with  a  soldier's  kiss. 


ACT  IV.  sc.  v.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


271 


Cleo.     Lead  me  : 
He  goes  forth  gallantly  :  That  he  and  Ccefar  might 
Determine  this  great  Warre  in  fingle  fight ; 
Then  Anthony ;  but  now.     Well  on.  Exeunt 


47 


SO 


\Scene  V\ 


Trumpets  found. 


Enter  Anthony ^and  Eros . 


Eros,     The  Gods  make  this  a  happy  day  to  Anthony. 


48,49.  might  Determine\  Might  finish 
Words. 

49.  A'*^/]  Ff,  Rowe,  Sing,    fight! 
Pope  et  cet 

50.  7>4^«  Anthony;  butn<yw,'\  Then 
Antony — but  nam —  Rowe  et  seq.  (subs. ) 

WeUim.'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob. 
u,  Warb.  Well  /—  On.  Johns.  Var. '  73. 
well^  on.  Theob.  i  et  cet.  (subs.) 


Scene  IV.  Pope,Waib.  Kemble.  Scene 
V.  Han.  Johns,  et  seq. 

Scene  changes  to  a  Camp.  Theob. 
Under  the  Walls  of  Alexandria.  An- 
tony's Camp.  Cap. 

1.  Eros.]    Eros;   a   soldier  meeting 
them.  Theob. 

2.  Eros.  The'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.    Off. 
The  Sta.     Sold.  The  Theob.  et  cet. 


49.  Determine]  Charles  Allen  gives  a  valuable  chapter  wherein  many  instances 
gathered  of  Shakespeare's  legal  knowledge  whereto  parallel  instances  are  to  be 

found  in  contemporary  writers  ;  from  which  the  conclusion  fairly  follows  that  Shake* 
spcare's  legal  knowledge,  on  which  much  stress  has  been  laid,  is  not  more  extraordi- 
nary  than  that  of  his  eminent  contemporaries.  On  p.  55  Allen  notes  that  *  "  Deter- 
mine*' is  twice  used  by  Shakespeare  in  its  legal  sense  as  signifying  the  end,  namely, 
in  Coriolanus  (V,  iii,  119)  :  **  I  purpose  not  to  wait  on  fortune  till  These  wars  deter- 
mine." [and  in  the  present  passage.]  A  similar  use  is  found  in  Jonson's  Alchemist: 
••For  here  Determines  the  indenture  tripartite."  (V,  ii.)  Donne  also,  in  Anatomy 
of  the  Worldy  says :  •*  Measures  of  times  are  all  determined."  (I,  §  40.)  ' 

50.  Then  Anthony;  but  now]  Kreyssig  (ii,  73)  :  To  this  woman  Anthony 
gave  more  than  any  man  should  dare  to  give :  his  honour.  He  cannot  complain  if 
he  is  taken  at  his  own  valuation.  The  recollection  of  the  flight  of  the  <  doting  mal- 
lard' from  the  sea-fight,  although  it  cannot  morally  justify  Cleopatra's  faithlessness, 
makes  it  aesthetically  endurable.  When  she  is  arming  him  for  his  last  battle,  her 
determination  is  already  taken.  She  knows  well  enough  that  what  must  here  decide 
is  not  the  heroic  courage  of  a  warrior,  but  w:ary  judgement  and  essential  superiority. 
But,  at  that  very  moment,  her  fine,  aesthetic  temperament  pays  homage  to  the  man  who 
is  even  in  that  instant  betrayed. — [The  Editor  begs  leave  to  remark  that  he  is  not 
responsible  for  the  opinions  of  commentators.] 

3.  Bros]  Theobald  :  'Tis  evident,  as  Dr  Thirlby  likewise  conjectured,  by  what 
Antony  immediately  replies,  that  this  line  should  not  be  placed  to  *  Eros,*  but  to  the 
Soldier,  who,  before  the  battle  of  Actium,  advised  Antony  to  try  his  Fate  at  land. — 
Capell  (i,  44)  :  [Theobald]  should  have  gone  a  step  further,  and  have  given  [to  the 
Soldier  the  speeches  (lines  5  and  10)]  which  are  no  less  certainly  his  than  that  [he 
has]  given  :  the  matter  of  them  shews — that  they  come  from  the  first  speaker,  ^d 


2/2 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  nr,  sc.  ▼. 


Ant.  Would  thou,  &  thofe  thy  fears  had  once  preuaild 
To  make  me  fight  at  Land. 

Eros.     Had'' ft  thou  done  fo, 
The  Kings  that  haue  reuolted,  and  the  Soldier 
That  has  this  morning  left  thee,  would  haue  ftill 
Followed  thy  heeles. 

Ant.    Whofe  gone  this  morning  ? 

Eros.    Who?  one  euer  neere  thee,  call  for  Enobarbus^ 
He  (hall  not  heare  thee,  or  from  Ccefars  Campe, 
Say  I  am  none  of  thine. 

Ant.     What  fayeft  thou  ? 

Sold.  Sir  he  is  with  Ccefar. 

Eros.  Sir,  his  Chefts  and  Treafure  he  has  not  with  him. 

Ant.     Is  he  gone  f 

Sol.     Moft  certaine. 

Ant.     Go  EroSy  fend  his  Treafure  after,  do  it, 
Detaine  no  iot  I  charge  thee  :  write  to  him, 
(I  will  fubfcribe)  gentle  adieu's,  and  greetings  ; 
Say,  that  I  wifli  he  neuer  finde  more  caufe 
To  change  a  Mafter.     Oh  my  Fortunes  haue 
Corrupted  honeft  men.     Difpatch  Enobarbus.  Exit 


5 


lO 


IS 


20 


23 


5.  Eros.  Had^'fil  Ff,Rowe,  +  ,  Varr. 
Ran.  Off.  Had'st  Sta.  SoL  HacTst 
Cap.  et  cet. 

8.  Followed '\  Follovfd  Pope  et  seq. 

9.  Whofe]  Who's  Ff  et  seq. 

10.  Eros.  Who  /]  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Varr. 
Ran.  Off.  Wi^/Sta.  Sol.  WhofQ^,^, 
et  cet. 

tfif^...  Enobarbus]  Separate  line, 
Pope  et  seq. 

thee^  call]  thee.  Call  Rowe  ii  et 
seq.  (subs.) 

12.  I.,, thine]  As  quotation,  Theob.  et 
seq. 

13.  fayeft]  Ff.     sa^st  Rowe  et  seq. 

14.  15.  he  is...  Treafure]  As  one  line, 


Theob.  et  seq. 

17.  Sol.  Moft]  Eros.  Most  Else. 

18.  after ^]  after;  Johns. 

20.  fubfcribe)  gentle]  subscribe^  g^ntU 
Rowe,  Johns,  sttbscribt  gentle  Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

23.  Difpatch  Enobarbus.]  Difpatch 
Eros.  F,.  Difpatch,  Eros.  F^F^,  Rowe, 
Wh.  i.  dispatch  my  Eros  Pope,  dis- 
patcht  my  Eros.  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 
Johns.  Despatch  !  To  Enodardtts  /  Johns. 
conj.  Dispatch. — O  Enobarbus  I  Cap. 
Eros!  dispatch.  Ran.  Ritson,  Steer. 
Var.  *03,  '13  (subs.)  Dispatch.  Eno- 
barbus !  Var. '  73  et  cet.  (subs. )  Domitims 
Enobarbus  !  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 


their  style  is  not  unfitting  for  him ;  but  most  unsuitable  to  the  dependent  condition 
of  Eros,  the  gentleness  of  his  manners,  and  his  extreme  love  of  his  master. — [This 
distribution  of  speeches  by  Capell,  in  lines  5  and  10,  was  adopted  by  Malone  (1790), 
and  followed  by  all  subsequent  editors.] 

23.  Dispatch  Enobarbus]   Capell  (i,  44) :    The  pathetick  exclamation   of 
Antony,  which  is  fetch' d  from  the  First  Folio,  is  such  an  improvement  of  the  scene. 


IT.  sc.  ^3    AATHoynr  aio}  cueofaiila  273 

\Scemt  VI\ 


Qgf.     Go  ibftii  4fFi^^^  2330  begia  the  figlit: 
Our  win  is  Amtkemj  be  lookc 
Make  it  fo  kxiovae. 


dial  tbe  ondcm  »e  lanSr  r— ''^^■^■^J^  for  tbor  *<tig«irt,  kt  Evds^*  cxjUtTd  a 
fiom  the  secsad. — SiiAiAJb :  Hcii  Wlace  Mypnsc%  tbat  *  Antaar,  bcm^  MKMttbei 
mt  tbe  news  of  tbe  de«iauB  rf  Eaobsfbas  aerdj  icxats  his  nuDe  ib  a  i»pe<if 
sorprise.'  In  taj  op-Tkc,  Atfonj  wxs  rtriigf  1  ofih-  ta  cafcroe  die  order  he  hftd 
mlieadj  gHea  to  Efos.  I  hsre  tbcrfcae  iioQowd  die  Seooad  Folia. — RnsoK :  It 
will  be  evident  to  anj  perKn,  vbo  rngHBlTT  tbe  Seooad  Folio  «i^  aOcntioa  «nd  cuk 
dour,  that  many  of  die  aktxitices  bbs  have  been  fuinabed  by  sohk  conected  oqpy 
of  tbe  Fixst  Foiio,  or  an  amboritr  of  eqnal  weigbt,  beins  snch  as  no  persoa.  —irh 
less  ooe  lo  ^nonnt  and  capricicas  as  die  EdilDr  has  been  represented,  cxMdd  have 
possibly  bit  npon^widioai  that  90ft  of  inSoBBatioa.  Amoeg  these  valnabieeaKadatkas 
is  the  present,  which  afibids  a  striking  improvcBent  bodi  of  die  sense  and  of  the 
metre,  and  dionld  of  ooooe  be  insened  in  die  text,  thus  *  Eros,  ifispatch.* — Kntort  : 
We  follow  the  words  of  the  ordinal,  bat  not  the  panctaabon.  [The  cwiginal]  auiy 
mean  dispatch  the  bosiness  of  Enocarbus;  but  it  is  more  probable  that  Antony^ 
addressing  Eros,  says  'dispotdi ' ;  and  then,  thinking  of  his  revolted  friend,  f«o> 
nonnces  bis  name. — R.  G.  White  :  Considering  the  rb3rdim  of  the  Hne,  die  a|^;>ffv>> 
priateoess  of  the  command,  and  the  great  probability  that  in  the  numnscript  there  stood 
only  E.,  I  have  no  hesitatioo  in  adopting  [tbe  reading  of  F,.] — [Kntgbt*s  note,  is  to 
me,  tbe  most  satislactory ;  in  substance  it  is  ibUowed  by  Coixnuu  Singkr,  HrnsoN^ 
and  Deighton.  We  can  hear  tbe  deep  sigh  with  whidi  the  name  *  Enobarbns  *  is 
breathed  forth.  It  is  Uke  OcUvins's  <  Fbor  Anthony ! '  at  the  dose  of  tbe  first  Scene 
of  this  Act.— Ed.] 

4.  Our  will  is  Anthony  be  tooke  aJine]  WAEBtniTOS :  It  is  obserrable  with 
what  judgment  Shakspeare  draws  tbe  character  of  Octavins.  Antony  was  his  hero ; 
so  the  other  was  not  to  shine  :  yet  being  an  historical  character,  there  was  a  necessity 
to  draw  him  like.  Bat  tbe  ancient  historians,  his  flatterers,  had  delivered  him  down 
so  fair,  that  he  seems  ready  cnt  and  dried  for  a  hero.  Amidst  these  difficulties  Shak- 
q>eare  has  extricated  himself  with  great  address.  He  has  admitted  all  those  great 
strokes  of  his  character  as  he  found  them,  and  yet  has  made  him  a  very  nnamiabW 
character,  deceitful,  mean-spirited,  narrow-minded,  proud,  and  revengefuL 

6.  I  shall]  See  Abbott  ($  315)  for  instances  of  *  shall*  used  for  wUL 
x8 


274  ^^^  TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  iv.sc.vL 

Ca/ar.    The  time  of  vniuerfall  peace  is  neere :  7 

Proue  this  a  profp'rous  day^  the  three  nook'd  world 

8.  proffrcus\  Ff,  Rowe,+,  Wh. 

three  nooJ^d]  three-nook'd  F^F^  et  seq. 

7.  The  time  of  vniuersall  peace  is  neere]  Capsll  (i,  44) :  The  Poet  had  not 
this  from  his  Plutarch,  but  from  ecclesiastical  histories  (probably)  or  some  bible  com- 
mentator :  The  return  of  Augustus  to  Rome  was  signalized  by  three  triumphs  in  the 
course  of  one  month,  for  victories  obtain'd  in  Dalmatia,  at  Actiom,  and  this  at  Alex- 
andria :  afler  which,  he  shut  up  the  temple  of  Janus,  in  token  that  all  wars  were 
over ;  an  event  which  those  histories  dwell  upon,  as  the  precursor  of  Christ's  birth, 
according  to  prophesy. 

8.  Proue  this]  For  instances  where  the  inversion  of  the  subject  indicates  a  con- 
ditional sentence,  see  Franz,  {  487,  Annurkung^  4.  c. 

8.  the  three  nook'd  world]  On  this  puzzling  phrase  we  get  but  small  light  from 
the  commentators.    It  is  not  difficult  to  draw  an  explanation  from  the  <  depths  of  one's 
consciousness,'  as  Theobald  and  Capell  seem  to  have  drawn  from  theirs,  and  say,  with 
them,  that  according  to  primitive  geography  there  were  but  three  countries  in  the  world: 
Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa,  and  that  these  made  the  '  three  angles.'    But  three  angles 
do  not  make  three  nooks ;  they  may  make  only  two.    From  Malone  to  the  present  day 
there  has  been  quoted,  as  parallel  to  the  present  passage,  the  closing  lines  in  Kingjohn^ 
where  the  Bastard  says,  *  G>me  the  three  comers  of  the  world  in  arms.  And  we  shall 
shock  them.'    But,  even  in  this  passage,  what  the  *  three  comers '  are,  is  very  doubtful ; 
it  has  been  even  suggested  that  they  may  have  been  the  Pope,  France,  and  Spain. 
Whatever  they  were,  England  is  supposed  to  be  the  fourth  comer,  which  alone,  I  think, 
removes  the  parallelism  with  <  three  nook'd.'     Again  it  has  been  surmised  that  the 
present  allusion  is  to  the  fact  that  the  world  had  been  divided  among  Caesar,  Anthony, 
and  Lepidus.     If  this  be  so,  it  is  extremely  difficult,  to  me  at  least,  to  imagine  why 
Caesar,  Anthony,  and  Lepidus  should  be  termed  '  nooks.'   There  is,  however,  one  pos- 
sible source  of  information,  namely,  in  Shakespeare's  supposed  familiarity  with  the 
Emblem  writers.  The  proofs  of  this  familiarity  which  Grsbn  has  gathered  on  this  snb» 
ject  are,  when  taken  singly,  of  doubtful  value,  but  become  respectable  by  accumulation. 
On  p.  350  of  his  Shakespeare  and  the  Emblem  Writers^  we  find  the  following :  *  Curious 
it  is  to  note  how  slowly  the  continent  which  Columbus  discovered  became  fully  recog- 
nised as  an  integral  portion  of  "  the  inhabited  world."  •  .  .  Brucioli's  Trattaio  delU 
Sphera,  Venice,  1543,  ...  in  dividing  the  globe  into  climates,  does  not  take  a  single 
instance  except  from  what  is  named  the  Old  World ;  in  fact  the  New  World  of  America 
is  never  mentioned.   Somewhat  later,  in  1564,  when  Sambucus  published  his  Emhiems^ 
and  presented  Symbols  0/ the  parts  of  the  Inhabited  Earthy  he  gave  only  three  [parts: 
Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa,  as  comprising  the  whole  world.]  .  .  .  Shakespeare's  geog- 
raphy, however,  though  at  times  defective,  extended  further  than  its  *< symbols"  bj 
Sambucus.     He  refers  to  America  and  the  Indies  in  Com.  of  Err,  III,  ii,  131,  and 
to  the  East  and  West  Indies  in  The  Merry  Wives,  I,  iii,  64.    Yet  in  agreement  with 
the  map  of  Sambucus,  [where]  the  three  Capes  prominent  upon  it,  are  the  Gibraltar 
Rock,  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  that  of  Malacca,  Shakespeare,  on  other  occasions, 
ignores  America  and  all  its  western  neighbours.     At  the  consultation  by  Octavius, 
Antony,  and  Lepidus  about  the  division  of  the  Roman  Empire,  Antony,  on  the 
exit  of  Lepidus,  asks,  '<  is  it  fit,  The  three-fold  world  divided,  he  should  stand  One 


ACT  IV,  sc.  vi.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA 


275 


Shall  beare  the  Oliue  freely. 

Enter  a  Meffenger. 

Mtf,    Anthony  is  come  into  the  Field. 

CtEf,     Go  charge  Agrippa^ 
Plant  thofe  that  haue  reuolted  in  the  Vant, 
That  Anthony  may  feeme  to  fpend  his  Fury 
Vpon  himfelfe. 


ID 


Exeunt. 


15 


Enob.    Alexas  did  reuolt,  and  went  to  leivry  on 


1 1.  Anthony]  Mark  Antony  Pope,  + . 
is  come  ...  Field '\   Separate  line, 

Cap.  Mai.  et  seq. 

12,  13.  Go  charge  Agrippa,  Plani'\ 
Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.  Go,  charge^  Agrippa  ; 
Plani  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Go,  charge 
Agrippa^  P/an/ Johns.  Sing.  Go,  charge 
Agrippa ;  Plant  Var.  '73,  Knt  (subs. ) 
Co^  charge  Agrippa,  Plant  Coll.  i,  Wh. 
i,  Hal.  Go  charge  Agrippa  Plant  Dyce, 
Glo.  Cam.  Coll.  Hi.  Go^  charge  Agrippa 
Plani  Cap.  et  cet. 


13.  Vanti  Var.  '78,  '85.  Van  Yi  et 
cet 

15.  Exeunt]  Exeunt  Caesar  and  Train. 
Cap. 

16.  Alexas  ...  lewry]  Separate  line, 
Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Knt,  Sing.  Coll.  ii. 
Cam.  Klly. 

did'\  doth  Rowe  ii,  Pope. 

reuolt y  and  went  1  revolt;  he  went 
Cap.  Ktly  (  subs. )  revolt ;  and  went  Var. 
*73  et  seq. 


of  the  three  to  share  it  ?  *^^-Jul,  Cas.  IV,  i,  12.  And  again  he  speaks  of  the  **  three- 
nook'd  world  "  '  [in  the  present  passage.  The  wood-cut  which  Green  gives  of  the 
map  of  Sambucus  presents  only  three  great  nooks  in  the  world,  one  is  formed  by  the 
Mediterranean,  a  second  by  the  Red  Sea,  and  a  third  is  hard  to  identify,  but  is  possi- 
bly the  Bay  of  Bengal.  According  to  this  small  map  or  Emblem  (for  the  three 
divisions  of  the  earth  are  dominated  by  animals),  the  world  can  assuredly  be  styled 
'  three  nooked.'  Whether  or  not  Shakespeare  ever  saw  it  is  a  question  which  is  open 
to  all  the  doubt  that  anyone  may  choose  to  apply  to  it.  That  Shakespeare  was,  at 
least,  familiar  with  Emblems  has  very  lately  received  a  conspicuous  proof  by  the  dis- 
covery of  a  pajrment  to  him  and  to  Burbadge  for  designing  an  impresa  for  the  sixth 
Earl  of  Rutland.— Ed.] 

9.  Shall  beare  the  Oliue  freely]  Warburton  :  That  is,  shall  spring  up  every- 
where spontaneously  and  without  culture. — M.  Mason  :  To  'bear*  does  not  mean 
to  produce,  but  to  carry ;  and  the  meaning  is,  that  the  world  shall  then  enjoy  the 
blcsdngs  of  peace,  of  which  olive-branches  were  the  emblem.  The  success  of 
Augustus  could  not  so  change  the  nature  of  things  as  to  make  the  olive-tree  grow 
without  culture  in  all  climates,  but  it  shut  the  gates  of  the  temple  of  Janus.  This 
explanation  is  supported  by  the  following  lines  from  2  Hen.  IV:  IV,  iv,  87,  where 
Westmoreland  says,  *  There  is  not  now  a  rebeVs  sword  unsheath*d.  But  peace  puts 
forth  her  olive  every  where.' 

12,  13.  charge  Agrippa,  Plant]  Dyce:  The  meaning  of  the  passage  is  obviously 
•  Go  and  enjoin  Agrippa  to  plant  those  that,'  etc. 

13.  Vant]  Thisklton  (p.  22) :  As  van  is  derived  from  the  French  avant  it  is 
unnecessary  to  expunge  the  terminal  /  here.  In  the  Prologue  to  Tro.  6*  Cress.,  line 
27,  the  same  word  is  spelt  *  vaimt.' 

16.  Alexas  did  reuolt,  etc.]  Capell  (i,  44)  :  The  revolt  of  Alexas  was  not  nor 
could  not  be  prior  to  his  going  to  Herod, — as  the  reading  of  all  former  copies  would 


2/6  THE   TRACED  IE  OF 

Affaires  of  Anthony^  there  did  diffwade 

Great  Herod  to  incline  himf  elfe  to  CtEfar^ 

And  leaue  his  Mafter  Anthony,     For  this  paines^ 

Cafar  hath  hang'd  him  :  Candndius  and  the  reft 

That  fell  away,  haue  entertainment,  but 

No  honourable  truft :  I  haue  done  ill, 

Of  which  I  do  accufe  my  felfe  fo  forely, 

That  Lwill  ioy  no  mote. 

Enter  a  Soldier  of  Cce/ars, 

Sol.     Enobarbus^  Anthony 
Hath  after  thee  fent  all  thy  Treafure,  with 
His  Bounty  ouer-plus.     The  Meffenger 
Came  on  my  guard,  and  at  thy  Tent  is  now 
Vnloading  of  his  Mules. 

Eno.     I  giue  it  you. 


[act  IV,  sc.  vL 


17 


20 


25 


30 


17.  Anthony,]  Antony ;  Roweet  seq. 
Antonys  ;  Ktly. 

diffwadf^  Ff,  Coll.  i,  Wh.  i.    per^ 
swade  Rowe  et  cet  (subs.) 

19.  this']  his  Han. 


20.  Camindius]  Canidius  Ff  et  seq. 

24.  mote]  more  Ff. 

25.  of  Caefars]  Om.    Cap. 

28.  ouer-plus]  overplus  Steev.  el  scq. 


make  it, — for  he  went  to  him  <  on  af&irs  of  Antony/  that  is — in  Antony's  behalf : 
The  passage  therefore  is  wrong,  both  in  one  of  it's  words  and  the  punctuation  :  it  is 
set  to  rights  by  the  change  that  is  now  made  in  them,  which  is  small,  and  in  rule. 
[See  Text,  Notes.] 

16.  went  to  lewry  on]  Abbott  (§  503,  *  Apparent  Trimeter  Couplets*)  :  *On* 
may  be  transposed  to  the  next  line  ;  or,  considering  the  licence  attending  the  use  of 
names  and  the  constant  dropping  of  prefixes,  we  might  perhaps  read  '  Alixas  |  did 
(re)v6lt  I  .* 

16,  17.  went  to  lewry  on  Affaires]  Franz  (§  342) :  *On'  'upon,*  after  verbs 
of  motion  or  direction,  have  a  causal  signification,  inasmuch  as  they  introduce  the  cir> 
cumstance  which  is  the  end  and  aim  of  an  action. — [Hereupon  follow  many  examples; 
among  them,  however,  I  can  find  none  which  is  parallel  to  '  came  on  my  guard,' 
in  line  29,  below,  where  there  is  a  verb  of  motion,  but  no  causal  signification  in  <  on.' 
—Ed.] 

17.  there  did  disswade]  Johnson  :  The  old  copy  has  *  dissuade,'  perhaps  rightly. 
— Malone  :  It  is  undoubtedly  corrupt.  The  words  in  the  old  translation  of  Plutarch 
are  :  *  for  where  he  should  have  kept  Herodes  from  revolting  from  him,  he  persuaded 
him  to  tume  to  Caesar,'  etc. — Dyce  (ed.  ii)  :  [This  quotation  from  North's  trans- 
lation] distinctly  proves  *  disswade*  to  be  wrong. 

21.  haue  entertainment]  That  is,  they  are  accepted  as  soldiers,  and  have  mili- 
tary pay.  See  Othello^  III,  iii,  294,  *  Note  if  your  Lady  straine  his  Entertainment,* 
that  is,  <  see  if  Desdemona  urges  the  acceptance  of  Cassio  as  a  soldier.* 

29.  Came  on  my  guard]  See  note  on  <  went  to  lewry  on  Affiures,*  lines  16,  17, 
above. 


ACT  IV,  sc.  vi.]      ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


277 


SoL     Mocke  not  EnobarbuSj 
I  tell  you  true  :  Bed  you  faf^t  the  bringer 
Out  of  the  hoafty  I  muft  attend  mine  Office, 
Or  would  haue  done't  my  felfe.     Your  Emperor 
Continues  (till  a  loue.  Exit 

Enob.     I  am  alone  the  Villaine  of  the  earth, 
And  feele  I  am  fo  mod.     Oh  Anthony^ 
Thou  Mine  of  Bounty,  how  would'ft  thou  haue  payed 
My  better  feruice,  when  my  turpitude 
Thou  doft  fo  Crowne  with  Gold.     This  blowes  my  hart, 


32 


35 


40 


32.  Mocke\  Mock  me  Theob.  Han. 
Warb.  Steev.  Var.  '03,  '  13,  Words.  / 
mock  Cap. 

Enobaibus]    Enobarbtu^  for  in 
this  Words. 

SZ^you/aft^  F,F^.  you/aftY^, 
you  safe  *t  Rowe  i.  you  sec  safe  Rowe 
ii,  Pope,  Cap.  you  sec  safe  V  Theob. 
Han.  Warb.  that  you  saf^d  Stcev.  Var. 
'03,  *  13.    you  safed  or  saf^d  Johns,  et 


cet.    you  saw  safe  Cap.  conj. 

34.  koajl,']   FjF^,  Rowe.     haoft,  F,. 
host,  Johns,  hoast :  Rowe  ii  et  cet.  (subs.) 

38.  And  feele  I  am  fo  mo/f]  Om. 
Words. 

39.  payed  1  Ff.    paid  Kowe, 

41.  d/oTves^  bows  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob. 
Han.  Warb.  Cap. 

hart^"]  heart  Ff.    heart;  Roweet 
seq. 


^^,  Best  jTOu]  Dyce  pronounces  Strevens's  emendation,  *  Best  that  70U,'  *  most 
probable.' 

37.  I  am  alone  the  VUlaine]  For  *  alone '  when  equivalent  to  beyond  all  others^ 
see  Abbott,  j  18.  For  *the*  betokening  preeminence,  see  Franz,  §  113,  or 
Abbott,  {  92. 

38.  And  feele  I  am  so  most]  M.  Mason  :  That  is,  and  feel  I  am  so,  more  than 
any  one  else  thinks  it. — Reed  :  Surely,  this  explanation  cannot  be  right  '  And  feel 
I  am  so  most,'  must  signify,  '  I  feel  or  know  it  myself,  more  than  any  other  person 
can  or  does  feel  it.'  — Drighton  paraphrases  it  concisely :  <  And  no  one  could  feel 
it  as  bitterly  as  I  do.' 

41.  This  blowes  my  hart]  Johnson  :  This  generosity  (says  Enobarbus)  swells 
ny  heart,  so  that  it  will  quickly  break,  <  if  thought  break  it  not,  a  swifter  mean.' — 
Strevrns  :  That  to  *  blow '  means  to  puff  or  swell,  the  following  instance,  in  V,  ii, 
419,  of  this  play,  will  sufficiently  prove :  *  on  her  breast  There  is  a  vent  of  Bloud, 
and  something  blowne.^ — [This  interpretation  of  *  blowe '  seems  to  me  weak,  and  far 
frcHn  adequate  to  Enobarbus' s  deep  emotion.  And  yet  I  have  none  better  to  offer, 
except  by  hermeneutical  torture.  To  give  it  force,  Dr  Johnson  has  to  add, '  so  that 
it  will  quickly  break,'  but  this  is  wholly  his  addition,  and  is  not,  of  necessity,  inherent 
in  the  simple  word  *  blows.'  Unquestionably,  Shakespeare  frequently  uses  '  blow ' 
in  the  sense  of  swell,  puff'  up,  etc. ;  and  there  is  a  passage  in  Lear  which  seems 
strongly  to  strengthen  this  sense  in  the  present  sentence.  It  is  where  Lear  says, '  O, 
how  this  mother  swells  up  toward  my  heart!' — (II,  iv,  54.)  And  yet  I  am  not 
satisfied.  The  hermeneutical  torture,  as  pedantic  schoolmen  would  say,  to  which  I 
referred,  is  based  on  the  right  to  use  any  extreme,  legitimate  interpretation.  Now 
Shakespeare  does,  once  or  twice,  use  '  blow '  in  the  sense  of  break,  shatter,  as  the 
result  of  an  explosion.     Hamlet  says,  *  'tis  the  sport  to  have  the  enginer  Hoist  with 


278 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  IV,  Sc  viL 


If  fwift  thought  breake  it  not :  a  fwifter  meane 

Shall  out-ftrike  thought,  but  thought  will  doo't     I  feele 

I  fight  againft  thee  :  No  I  will  go  feeke 

Some  Ditch,  wherein  to  dye  :  the  foul'ft  bed  fits 

My  latter  part  of  life.  Exit. 

{Scene  VII\ 

Alarum  yDrummes  and  Trumpets. 
Enter  Agrippa, 
Agrip    Retire,  we  haue  engaged  our  felues  too  forre  : 
Ccefar  himfelfe  ha's  worke,  and  our  oppreflion 


42 


45 


42.  not .']  not^  Rowe  et  seq. 
fwifter] /wified  Yf^  Rowe. 

43.  outflrike\  outstrike  Steev.  et  seq. 
thought^  thought :  Rowe  et  seq. 
doo't.  I  feele]  F,.    do't,  I  feele  F,. 

dt^t,  I  feel  F^.  dot,  I  feel,  Rowe  et  seq. 

44.  thee  .•]  thee  !  Rowe  et  seq. 

No]  No,  FjF^,  Rowe,  +  .     no; 
Cap.  et  seq. 

45.  wherein  to]  where  to  Ff.     where 


I  may  Rowe,  +  ,  Var.  '73. 

Scene  IV.  Rowe.     Scene  VI.  Pope, 

Warb.    Scene  VII.  Han.  Johns,  et  seq. 

Before  the  Walls  of  Alexandria. 

Rowe.     Between  the  Camps.    Field  of 

Battle.  Cap. 

2.  Agrippa]  Agrippa,  and  his  Forces^ 
Cap. 

4.  and  our  oppreffion]  our  opposition 
Han. 


his  own  petar ;  and  't  shall  go  hard  But  I  will  delve  one  yard  below  their  mines. 
And  blow  them  at  the  moon.'  I  know  the  phrase  here  is  *  blow  a/,'  which  differ- 
entiates it  from  <  blow/  used  absolutely.  Yet  the  drift  of  the  sentence  is  that  <  blow ' 
is  here  used  as  a  result  of  a  sudden  and  violent  force,  and  we  may  well  imagine  that 
its  effect  was  shattering.  Again,  to  return  to  the  interpretative  torture,  at  the  close 
of  Henry  the  Eighth,  the  Porter's  Man,  speaking  of  a  fellow  in  the  crowd  with  a 
fiery  nose,  sa3rs  *he  stands  there,  like  a  mortar  piece,  to  blow  us.' — V,  !▼,  48. 
Wherefore,  I  should  like,  on  this  faint  possibility,  to  found  a  belief  that  in  <  This 
blows  my  heart '  there  lies  in  <  blows '  a  meaning  stronger  than  swells, — one  that 
involves  the  idea  of  breaking.  It  is  possibly  noteworthy  that  the  punctuation  of  the 
Folio  after  '  heart '  and  '  not '  has  been  uniformly,  and  perhaps  justly,  discarded  for 
that  of  Rowe.  Although  the  punctuation  of  Shakespeare's  compositors  is  not,  in 
general,  of  an  all-commanding  value,  yet,  in  the  present  instance,  it  seems  to  imply 
that  the  thought  of  his  turpitude  will  break  his  heart,  if  it  be  not  already  broken  by 
swift  remorse. — Ed.  ] 

43.  thought]  Malone  :  <  Thought,'  in  this  passage,  as  in  many  others,  signifies 
melancholy, — [Why  not  say  pensiveness  at  once?  The  damning  *•  thought '  that  he, 
above  all  others,  is  the  greatest  villain  on  earth,  and  that  no  foul  ditch  is  foul  enough 
for  him  to  die  in,  is,  possibly,  sufficient,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  to  make  a  man 
occasionally,  now  and  then,  once  in  a  while,  a  trifle  depressed.  The  melanchoiy,  as 
Malone  would  have  it,  which  Enobarbus  feels  is  the  very  blackest  despair. — Ed.] 

4.  Csesar  himselfe  ha's  worke]  Schmidt  (Zrx.  s,v,  2) :  That  is,  Caesar  is  in 
great  straits. 


ACT  IV.  sc.  vii.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  279 

Exceeds  what  weexpe£led.  Exit.  5 

Alarums. 
Enter  Anthony y  and  Scarrus  wounded. 

Scar.     O  my  braue  Emperor,  this  is  fought  indeed, 
Had  we  done  fo  at  firft,  we  had  drouen  them  home 
With  clowtsabout  their  heads.  Far  off.  10 

Ant.     Thou  bleed'ft  apace. 

Scar.     I  had  a  wound  heere  that  was  like  a  T, 
But  now  'tis  made  an  H. 

Ant.    They  do  retyre.  14 

5.  £zit]Om.  Roweii.    Retreat.  Ex-  10.  Far  off.]  F^,  Rowe  i.     Farrc  off. 

cant  Cap.  ^a^j*    Retreat  afar  off.  Cap.  Cam.    Om. 

9.  drouen\  Yi^  Rowe,  + ,  Glo.  Cam.  Rowc  ii  ct  cet 

Ktly.     </nV^»  Cap.  et  cet  w-i^.hTA.Thou.^Bench'hoUs^Om, 

la  heads\  head  Ff,  Rowe.  Words. 

4.  our  oppression]  Steevens  :  That  is,  the  force  by  which  we  are  oppressed  or 
orerpowered. 

7.  Scarrus]  Capell  (i,  45)  :  It  is  worth  remarking,  concerning  this  Scarus, — 
that  his  name  is  of  the  Poet's  invention,  and  himself  a  person  of  his  creating  :  One 
(he  saw)  most  be  had,  to  be  about  Antony  when  deserted  by  Enobarbus  and  the 
rest,  and  no  fit  one  was  presented  by  story :  he  therefore  had  recourse  to  invention  ; 
and  by  bringing  in  his  foundling  before  among  Antony's  other  followers  at  the  battle 
of  Actium,  gives  his  introduction  in  this  scene  an  easy  appearance,  and  hides  it*s 
necessity.     [See  Dram,  Per5.'\ 

9.  drouen]  This  form  is  found  in  Shakespeare  only  here. 

10.  With  clowts  about  their  heads]  Schmidt  {^Lex,)  asks  whether  or  not 
'  clouts '  be  here  '  equivalent  to  cuffs/ — a  question  which  surely  requires  no  answer 
from  any  English  reader.     *  Qouts '  here  are  bandages  for  wounds. 

12.  that  was  like  a  T]  Delius  :  We  must  suppose  that  the  T  was  l3ring  on  its 
side,  H>  <ind  by  one  or  two  more  slashes  was  changed  to  an  H. — [This  is  certainly 
ingenious,  and  the  only  attempt  I  have  found  to  explain  the  conversion  of  the  letter 
T  into  a  letter  H.  Staunton  {^Athemtumy  26  Apr.  1873),  however,  gives  the  true 
interpretation,  namely,  that  there  was  no  actual  conversion  of  one  letter  into  another; 
the  pun  consists  in  that  Scarus  had  received  a  T-shaped  wound  which,  *  by  being 
undressed  and  exposed  to  the  air,  had  begun  to  pain  him.'  The  noun  ache  and  the 
letter  H  were  pronounced  alike ;  see  the  next  note. — Ed.] 

13.  now  'tis  made  an  H]  Steevens  (Note  on  Much  Ado,  III,  iv,  52)  :  Hey- 
wood  in  his  Epigrams,  1 566,  has  one  *  Of  the  letter  H  *  (p.  Ill,  Spenser  Soc.  Reprint), 
'  H  is  worst  among  letters  in  the  crosse  row.  For  if  thou  finde  him  either  in  thine 
elbow,  In  thine  arme,  or  leg,  in  any  degree.  In  thine  head,  or  teeth,  in  thy  toe  or 
knee,  Into  what  place  soever  H  may  pike  him.  Where  euer  thou  finde  ache,  thoa 
shalt  not  like  him.' — [The  verb  was  pronounced  ake;  the  noun  aitch,  like  the  letter, 
or,  possibly,  aieh.  For  a  fuller  discussion  of  this  pronunciation,  see,  if  need  be,  The 
Tempest,  I,  ii,  433  ;  Much  Ado,  III,  iv,  52,  of  this  edition. — Ed.] 


28o  THE  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  it.  sa  Tm. 

Scar.    WeeT  beat  ^em  into  Bench-holes,  I  haue  ydi  15 

Roome  for  fix  fcotches  more. 

Enter  Eros. 

Eros.    They  are  beaten  Sir,  and  our  aduantage  femes 
For  a  laire  vi<5lory. 

Scar.     Let  vs  fcore  thdr  backes,  20 

And  fnatch  'em  vp,  as  we  take  Hares  behinde, 
Tis  fport  to  maul  a  Runner. 

Ant.     I  will  reward  thee 
Once  for  thy  fprightly  comfort,  and  ten-fcdd 
For  thy  good  valour.     Come  thee  on.  25 

Scar.    He  halt  after.  Exeunt 

[Scene  y/IL] 

Alamnu    Enter  Anthony  agmu  in  a  March. 
ScarruSj  with  others. 

Ant.    We  haue  beate  him  to  his  Campe  :  Runne  one 
Before,  &  let  the  Queen  know  of  our  guefts :  to  morrow  4 

15.  'emi]  tkem  Ran.  tbe  walk  of  Alexaodiim.  Vbt.'tS. 

Bem^k-ksifs^  Id  est,  sdbe  fuBfl-  I.  Alaram.]  Om.   Otp. 


1%.   Thfrmrr^  TLyrr  IV)pe,<f  .Dyce  x.  Scvm]  Scuvs  FT. 


fi,  iii.  wiA  otbcn.]  with  o&er.  F^    aad 


15.  tkte]  rift.  HuL  3. 4-  <'>..-.As^rr]  Ooe  Kne,  Rove  ft 

^  Jf^iC^-yi    tfwitelt  Sterr.   Xwob. 


Rm,  SiBf .  Dtcc  Sia.  Gla  Cm.  4.  f^^  catt  Theob.  Has.  Waih. 

25.  tiff]  Ob.   Hsa  €^  Siic  ^>r»*  <^oQ-  n.  m  <MS},  Wh. 


Seme  cmtirQra,   Rove,  ^ .      Scok        Sbu  Gkx  Cm.  Kthr,  HaL 
VIII,  Cifi.  H  mn:^.  HwobL  osei.  (vitbtevs.) 

Gtfes  of  Aleraadna.  C^    Uoder 


i&  oar  •daaatic^  wniea]  Capqx  (i«  45) : 
Cxvcvr'd  dwn.  ax>d  ibcr  bad  arv  aa  cvfwRanitT  of  iJmiulm  *a  fur  vkkxy' ;  an 
ofmkta  dud  Scam  asseaAS  la.  ai»d  afiqaanb — Ajuobj,  aad  orrasinni  tbdr  exit :  As 
tbcT  ai«  stC!iLiTt  (be  ixxt  cvileresv  asd  tlua  ai  aaodMi  p&aoe,  sane  iaierval  mast  bt 
snpfKks^'d  lucuma  ibr  t^m  aceiaev  diat  sboaid  be  blTd  up  wixb  dnaiibi^fs  a&d  da- 
tknn  alanmuk 

15.  Ccofte  tbee  on]  For  aacy  eraiBpie^  of  ^  K&aSbAam  «k  oC  "dtee'  for 
rkdmi^  ftt^  AiOk'tTT,  §  SIS. 

4.  ipwsta']  Ttininim^:  Xl'bat  ''pieSF*  vas  die  Queea  to  Vaom  oC?     Aotooj 
16 1^^  «P^  «B  ibe  aM>rc>v  ;  anc  be  bad  aot  jpct  said  a  word  oC  maicblos  ^ 


ACT  IV,  sc.  viii.]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  28 1 

Before  the  Sun  fhall  fee's,  wee'l  fpill  the  blood  5 

That  ha's  to  day  efcapM.     I  thanke  you  all, 

For  doughty  handed  are  you,  and  haue  fought 

Not  as  you  feruM  the  Caufe,  but  as't  had  beene 

Each  mans  like  mine  :  you  haue  fliewne  all  Heilors. 

Enter  the  Citty,  clip  your  Wiues,  your  Friends,  10 

Tell  them  your  feats,  whil'ft  they  with  ioyfuU  teares 

Wafh  the  congealement  from  your  wounds,  and  kiffe 

The  Honour'd-gafhes  whole. 

Enter  Cleopatra. 
Giue  me  thy  hand,  IS 

To  this  great  Faiery,  He  commend  thy  a6ls, 

5. /r^f]   FjF^,  Rowe,  +  ,  Dyce,  Sta.  9.  Hwflors.]    Hectors,    Go,  Walker, 

Glo.  Cam.    fees  F,.     see  us  Cap.  et  cet.  Huds.     as  Hectors,  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

7.  doughty  handed^  doughty- handed  13-15.  The,..hand^  One  line,  Rowe 
Pope  et  seq.  et  seq. 

8.  the'\  my  Han.  13.  Honour^  d-gajhes"]  honoured gajhes 
as't'\  as  it  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.  Sleev.         F^  et  seq. 

Varr.  Coll.  14.  Cleopatra.]   Cleopatra,  attended. 

9.  you.,.all'\  you*ve  shewn  yourselves         Cap. 

«//Pope,Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Ktly.  you  15.  [To  Scanis.  Rowe  el  seq. 

kave  all  shewn  you  Cap.    you  all  have  16-23.   Mnemonic,  Warb. 

shown  aU  Hectors  Nicholson  ap.  Cam.  16.   Faiery]  Fairy  Johns,  et  seq. 

Alexandria,  and  treating  his  officers  in  the  palace.  We  mast  restore,  as  Mr  War* 
burton  likewise  prescribes,  *  our  gests,*  i.e.  res  gesta  ;  oar  feats,  oar  glorious  actions. 
It  is  a  term  that  frequently  occurs  in  Chaucer ;  and,  after  him,  in  Spenser ;  nor  did 
it  cease  to  be  current  for  some  time  after  our  Author's  da3rs. — ^Johnson  :  Antony, 
after  his  success,  intends  to  bring  his  officers  to  sup  with  Cleopatra,  and  orders  notice 
to  be  given  of  their  guests. — [Collier's  MS  also  gives  ^m/j,  and  for  a  time  received 
the  credit  therefor.  Whether  or  not  the  MS  Corrector  anticipated  Theobald  is  not 
here  open  to  question.  The  credit  is  to  be  given  to  him  by  whom  the  emendation 
was  first  published.  The  Text.  Notes  show  how  emphatic  is  the  preference  of  the 
best  editors  for  Theobald's  happy  change. — Ed.] 

9.  3rou  haue  shewne  all  Hedlors]  Walker  (Crit,  iii,  307)  :  I  think, — *you 
have  shown  all  Hectors.  Co.*  At  any  rate,  something  has  dropped  out  at  the  end 
of  the  line ;  as  after  *  haven,*  in  x,  9  ;  after  *  I  dare  not,'  in  xv,  32  ;  and  after  *  the 
round  worid,'  in  V,  i,  20. — [Abbott  (§  484)  thus  scans  the  line, « Each  m&n's  |  like 
mi  \ne:  yo4  |  have  shiwn  |  all  Hectors.'     This  is  solely  for  the  eye. — Ed.] 

10.  clip  3rour  Wiues,  your  Friends]  To  *clip'  is  embrace. 

11.  Tell  them  your  feats]  The  use  of  <  feats'  here  adds  strength  to  Theobald's 
conjecture  o(  gests  in  line  4  above ;  especially  if  *  them '  be  emphasised  in  accordance 
with  the  rhythm.  There  is  a  repetition  with  a  variation ;  *  let  the  Queen  know  of 
oar  gests  and  tell  your  friends,  too,  of  your  feats. — Ed. 

16.  Faiery]  Warburton  :  For  inchantress,  in  which  sense  it  is  often  used  in  the 


282  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  iv,  sc.  viiL 

Make  her  thankes  bleffe  thee.     Oh  thou  day  o'thVorld,  17 

Chaine  mine  arm'd  necke,  leape  thou,  Attyre  and  all 
Through  proofe  of  Hameffe  to  my  heartland  there 
Ride  on  the  pants  triumphing.  20 

Cleo.     Lord  of  Lords , 
Oh  infinite  Vertue,  comm'ft  thou  fmiling  from  | 
The  worlds  great  fnare  vncaught 

AnL     Mine  Nightingale, 
We  haue  beate  them  to  their  Beds.  25 

What  Gyrle,  though  gray 


17.  [To  Cleo.  Glo.  Dyce  ii.  24.  Mine\  My  Ff  et  seq. 

18.  ntcke^  neck;  Pope  et  seq.  25.  We  Aaue]   HVve  Pope,+,  Dyce 

19.  Aeari]  part  Ff.  U,  Ui. 

20.  pant5\  paints  FjF^.  25,  26.  We  -^-grayl  One  line,  Rowe 
23.  vneaughl."]  uncaught  t  Rowe  ii  et  et  seq. 

seq. 


old  romances. — [Hanmer,  Staunton,  and  seTeral  recent  editors  adopt  this  mean- 
ing.]— Capell  (i,  45) :  Giving  her  this  name  as  being  something  more  than  humanity, 
and  of  a  middle  nature  between  that  and  the  gods. — Johnson  :  Mr  Upton  has  well 
observed  that  *  fairy '  comprises  the  idea  of  power  and  beauty. — DsLius  :  Cleopatra 
is  a  fairy  inasmuch  as  she  is  the  bountiful  dispenser  of  that  good  fortune  which  is 
Seams' s  due.     [Which  seems  to  be  the  true  interpretation. — Ed.] 

18.  Chaine  mine  arm'd  necke]  Warburton  :  Alluding  to  the  Gothic  custom 
of  men  of  worship  wearing  gold  chains  about  the  neck. — Edwards  (p.  201,  after 
quoting  the  foregoing  note) :  Your  humble  servant,  Mr  Alderman  Antony — Your 
worship  is  so  fine  to  day;  that  I  vow  I  scarce  know  you.  But  jroa  will  hardly 
thank  Mr  Warburton,  for  the  honor  he  does  yon.  '  Chain  my  arm*d  neck  '  means» 
entwine  me,  armed  as  I  am,  in  thy  embraces.  A  chain,  which  a  gallant  man  would 
prefer  before  any  gold  one. 

19.  proofe  of  Hamesse]  Steevens  :  That  is,  armour  of  proof. 

20.  Ride  on  the  pants  triumphing]  Warburton  :  Alluding  to  an  Admind 
ship  on  the  billows  after  a  storm.  The  metaphor  is  extremely  fine. — Edwakj>s  (p. 
202,  after  quoting  the  foregoing  note)  :  There  are  some  points  which  our  Professed 
Critic  should  never  touch ;  for,  whenever  he  does,  he  only  shews  his  ignorance  about 
them.  He  quite  mistakes  the  nature  of  the  <  pants  *  here,  as  well  as  the  <  chain ' 
above.  But  why  triumphing  like  an  admiral  ship  after  a  storm  ?  I  thought  Tictories 
gained,  not  storms  escaped,  had  been  the  matter  of  triumphs ;  and,  I  suppose,  other 
ships  dance  on  the  billows,  just  after  the  same  manner  as  an  Admiral's  does. 

24.  Mine  Nightingale]  This  is  an  example,  even  more  striking  than  *yoar 
reproof '(II,  ii,  141),  of  confusion  of  sound  in  the  ear  of  the  compositor,  who  ^led 
to  detect,  in  the  pronunciation  of  his  reader,  the  difference  between  <  my  nightingale' 
and  *  mine  nightingale.*  See  also  '  Unarme  Eros,'  IV,  xiv,  45  ;  and  '  mine  Nailes,' 
V,  ii,  268;  *  hither,'  III,  vi,  14;  'your  so,'  III,  iv,  27,  etc.— Ed. 

24.  Nightingale]  Deighton  :  A  compliment  to  the  fascination  of  her  voice. 


ACT  IV,  sc.  viu.]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  283 

Do  fomthing  mingle  with  our  yonger  brown,  yet  ha  we  27 

A  Braine  that  nourifhes  our  Nerues,and  can 

Get  gole  for  gole  of  youth.     Behold  this  man, 

Commend  vnto  his  Lippes  thy  fauouring  hand,  30 

Kiffe  it  my  Warriour  :  He  hath  fought  to  day, 

As  if  a  God  in  hate  of  Mankinde,  had 

Deftroyed  in  fuch  a  fliape. 

Cleo.     He  giue  thee  Friend 
An  Armour  all  of  Gold  :  it  was  a  Kings.  35 

AnL     He  has  deferu'd  it,  were  it  Carbunkled 

27-29.  Do.,,man^  Lines  end,  brown^  29.  goU\  goal  Pope. 

,,,nerv€Sy  ..,man,  Johns.  Var.  '73,  Knt,  [Pointing  to  Scams.  Coll.  '53. 

Sing.  Ktly.  3a  /auouritig]  favouring  Theob.  ct 

27.  yonger\  younger  F^F^.   Om.  Han.  scq. 

Cap.  StecT.  Var.  '03/13,  Words.  32,  33.   Mnemonic,  Warb. 

ha'\  F.Fj.     ha'  F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  33.  Deftroyed^  Destroy d  Han.  Cap. 

Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Knt,  Djrce,  Wh.  et  seq. 
Sta.  Glo.  Cam.     have  Han.  et  cet 

27.  Do  ...  ha  we]  This  apparent  Alexandrine  is  pat  by  Abbott  (§  499)  in  a 
class  where  <  sometimes  regular  verses  of  Bye  accents  are  preceded  or  followed  by  a 
foot  [here  '  yet  ha'  we '],  more  or  less  isolated,  containing  one  accent.' 

27.  with  our  yonger  brown]  Stkkvens:  As  this  epithet  'younger,'  without 
improving  the  idea,  spoils  the  measure,  I  have  not  scrupled  ...  to  omit  it  as  an 
interpolation. — [In  general,  I,  too,  have  not  scrupled  to  omit  all  Steevens's  notes 
explanatory  of  his  arbitrary  metrical  changes ;  but  the  reckless  arrogance  of  the  fore- 
going deserves  to  be  pilloried.  And  yet,  in  this  instance,  Steevens  was  not  the  orig- 
inal offender. — Ed.] 

28.  A  Braine  that  nourishes  our  Nerues]  Anon.  (  The  TransailanHc,  Nov. 
187 1.  From  St.  Paul's  Afaga.) :  These  words  may  be  considered  somewhat  obscure, 
bat  underneath  them  lies  a  vast  substratum  of  meaning.  An  intellect  that  never  lies 
fallow,  a  heart  that  is  never  cold,  a  nervous  system  that,  though  never  quiet,  is  never 
nnstiang. 

29.  Get  gole  for  gole  of  youth]  Johnson  :  At  all  plays  of  barriers,  the  bound- 
ary is  called  a  goat;  to  win  a  goat,  is  to  be  a  superior  in  a  contest  of  activity. — 
Dkighton  :  That  is,  win  as  many  goals  as  younger  men ;  for  every  goal  they  get 
of  as,  can  get  one  of  them;  not  get  the  better  of  youth,  but  prove  their  equals. — 
[For  the  use  of  *of,'  see,  if  necessary,  II,  iii,  30.] 

30.  sauouring]  It  is  to  Theobald's  acuteness  that  we  owe  the  detection  of  the 
anbstitution  of  a  long  /  for  /. 

32.  Mankinde]  Rolfe  quotes  from  Schmidt  (Lex.)  that  this  word  is  <  accented 
mostly  on  the  last  syllable  in  Timon  of  Athens  ;  on  the  first  in  the  other  plays.* 

36.  Carbunkled]  Again,  in  Cymbeline,  there  is  a  reference  to  the  carbuncles 
in  Phoebus's  chariot,  where  lachimo  is  making  his  confession  and  says  that  Posthn- 
mas  *  stakes  this  ring ;  And  would  do  so,  had  it  been  a  carbuncle  of  Phoebus*  wheel.' 
I  had  hoped  that  by  the  reference  to  this  gem,  which  Golding  does  not  mention 


284 


THE   TRACE  DIE   OF 


[act  IV,  sc.  ix. 


Like  holy  Phcebus  Carre.     Giue  me  thy  hand, 

Through  Alexandria  make  a  iolly  March, 

Beare  our  hackt  Targets,  like  the  men  that  owe  them. 

Had  our  great  Pallace  the  capacity 

To  Campe  this  hoaft,  we  all  would  fup  together. 

And  drinke  Carowfes  to  the  next  dayes  Fate 

Which  promifes  Royall  perill,     Trumpetters 

With  brazen  dinne  blaft  you  the  Citties  eare. 

Make  mingle  with  our  ratling  Tabourines, 

That  heauen  and  earth  may  ftrike  their  founds  together, 

Applauding  our  approach.  Exeunt. 

[Scene  /X.] 

Euter  a  Centeriey  and  his  Company ,  Enobarbus  followes . 

Cent.     If  we  be  not  releeu'd  within  this  houre. 
We  muft  retume  to'th'Court  of  Guard  :  the  night 
Is  fhiny,  and  they  fay,  we  (hall  embattaile 
B}r'th'fecond  houre  i'th'Morne. 


37 


40 


45 


47 


5 


37.  hofy'\  glowing  Coll.  MS. 

41.  this\  his  Han.  ii. 

all  would'\  would  all  Theob.  ii, 
Warb.  Johns.  Van.  Ran. 

45.  with'\  with  it  Ktly. 

47.  approach'\  reproach  F  F^. 

Scene  V.  Rowe.  Scene  VII.  Pope, 
Warb.  Scene  VIII.  Han.  Johns.  Scene 
IX.  Cap.  et  seq. 

Caesar's  Camp.  Rowe.  Out-skirts 
of  Caesar* s  Camp.  Sentinels  upon  their 
Posts.     Enter  Enobarbus.  Cap. 


1.  Centerie,]  Century,  F^F^. 

2.  Cent.  If'\  Ff,  Rowe.   3.  S.  -5^  Cap. 

3.  toUh'^  F,.     to  th'  FjF^,  Rowe,  +  , 
Sing.  Wh.     to  the  Cap.  et  cet. 

3,40.  Court  of  Guard'^  court-of-guard 
Dyce  11,  111. 

4.  embattaile'^   F,.      embattel  Rowe, 
Pope,  Han.     embattle  F^F^  et  cet 

5.  ZryM']  F,.     Byth'  FjF^,  Rowe, 
+ ,  Wh.     By  the  Cap.  et  ceL 

«V>I»]  Ff,  Rowe,+.     i'the  Cap.  et 
seq. 


in  his  translation  of  Ovid,  it  could  be  shown  that  Shakespeare  had  quoted  from 
the  original.  But  chrysolites  are  alone  specified  by  Ovid,  Metam.  ii,  106-110. 
—Ed. 

39.  Beare  our  hackt  Targets,  like  the  men  that  owe  them]  Warburton: 
That  is,  hacked  as  much  as  the  men  to  whom  they  belong. — Johnson  :  Wby  not 
rather,  *  Bear  our  hackM  targets,'  with  spirit  and  exultation,  such  as  becomes  the 
brave  warriors  that  oTvn  them. — [Warburton*s  explanation  is,  I  think,  more  thoroughly 
in  accordance  with  Shakespearian  construction. — Ed.] 

45.  Make  mingle]  Daniel  (p.  82) :  Read  Make  V  tingle^ — f.  e.  Make  the  city's 
ear  tingle  with  our  rattling  tambourines. 

3.  Court  of  Guard]  Steevens  :  That  is,  the  guard-room,  the  place  where  the 
guard  musters. 


ACT  IV.  sc.  ix.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  285 

I.  Watch,   This  laft  day  was  a  fhreVd  one  too's.  6 

Enob.     Oh  beare  me  witneffe  night 

2     What  man  is  this  f  8 

6.  I.  Watch.  This\  Ff,  Rowe.     I.  S.  7-  night. '\  Ff,  Rowe.     night!  Pope, 

7:111  Cap.     I  Sold.  STiwVar. '78.  Thcob.   Warb.   Johns,      night  t    Han. 

Tliis  loft. ., too' 5\  Dividing  and  end-  night , —  Cap.  Mai.  et  scq. 

ing  the  line  at  was,  Han.  Cap.  ct  scq.  8.  2  Whafl  2.  What  F^F^.   2  Watch. 

Jkrew'd'\  F,.  JhreutdeF  .  Jhrewd  What  Rowe.    2.S.  What  Cap.    2  Sold. 

F.  ff»/x/Var.'85.   Third  Sold. /Tw  iwicr  / 

/^T* j]  /(^^ J  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Dyce,  Wh.  What  Words. 

Sta.  Glo.  Cam.     to  us  Cap.  et  cct.  8,  9.  What..Mm.]  Aside,  Cap. 


6.  a  shrew'd  one]  Craik  (p.  141)  :  Both  to  shrew  and  to  beshrew  are  used  by 
our  old  writers  in  the  sense  of  to  curse,  which  latter  verb,  again,  also  primarily  and 
properly  (from  the  A.S.  cursan  or  cursian)  signifies  to  vex  or  torment.  Now,  it  is 
a  strong  confirmation  of  the  derivation  of  shrewd  from  the  verb  to  shrew  that  we  find 
shrewd  and  curst  applied  to  the  disposition  and  temper  by  our  old  writers  in  almost, 
or  rather  in  precisely,  the  same  sense.  Shakespeare  himself  affords  us  several 
insUnces.  Thus,  in  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  (II,  i),  Leonato  having  remarked  to 
Beatrice,  *  By  my  troth,  niece,  thou  wilt  never  get  a  husband  if  thou  be  so  shrevtfd  of 
thy  tongue,'  his  brother  Antonio  adds,  assentingly,  '  In  faith,  she's  too  curst*  So,  in 
A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  (III,  ii),  Helena,  declining  to  reply  to  a  torrent  of  abuse 
from  Hermia,  says,  ' I  was  never  curst ;  I  have  no  gift  at  all  in  shrewishness*  And 
in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  (I,  ii),  first  we  have  Hortensio  describing  Katharine 
to  his  friend  Petruchio  as  *  intolerable  curst,  and  shrewd,  and  froward,'  and  then  we 
have  Katharine,  the  shrew,  repeatedly  designated  *  Katharine  the  curst.'  At  the  end 
of  the  Play  she  is  called  '  a  curst  shrew,'  that  is,  as  we  might  otherwise  express  it,  an 
ill-tempered  shrew.  ...  As  it  is  in  words  that  ill-temper  finds  the  readiest  rind  most 
frequent  vent,  the  terms  curst,  and  shrew,  and  shrewd,  and  shrewish  are  often  used 
with  a  special  reference  to  the  tongue.  But  sharpness  of  tongue,  again,  alwa3rs 
implies  some  sharpness  of  understanding  as  well  as  of  temper.  The  terms  shrewd 
and  shrewdly,  accordingly,  have  come  to  convey  usually  something  of  both  of  these 
qualities, — at  one  time,  perhaps,  most  of  the  one,  at  another  of  the  other.  The  sort 
of  ability  that  we  call  shrewdness  never  suggests  the  notion  of  anything  very  high  : 
the  word  has  always  a  touch  in  it  of  the  sarcastic  or  disparaging.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  disparagement  which  it  expresses  is  never  without  an  admission  of  some- 
thing also  that  is  creditable  or  flattering.  Hence  it  has  come  to  pass  that  a  person 
does  not  hesitate  to  use  the  terms  in  question  even  of  himself  and  his  own  judg- 
ments or  conjectures.  We  say,  <  I  shrewdly  suspect  or  guess,'  or  *  I  have  a  shrewd 
guess,  or  suspicion,'  taking  the  liberty  of  thus  asserting  or  assuming  our  own  intel- 
lectual acumen  under  cover  of  the  modest  confession  at  the  same  time  of  some  little 
ill-nature  in  the  exercise  of  it.  Even  when  shrewd  is  used  without  any  personal 
reference,  the  sharpness  which  it  implies  is  generally,  if  not  always,  a  more  or  less 
unpleasant  sharpness.  *This  last  day  was  a  shrewd  one  to  us,'  says  one  of  the 
Soldiers  of  Octavius  to  his  comrade,  in  [the  present  passage],  after  the  encounter  in 
which  they  had  been  driven  back  by  Antony  near  Alexandria. 

7-9.  Oh  beare  me  .  .  .  list  him]  Walker  {Crit.  iii,  307)  proposes  to  arrange 
these  two  lines  as  one,  wherein  I  can  discover  no  possible  gain,  either  to  eye  or  ear. 


286  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  iv,  sc  ix. 

1  Stand  dofe^and  lift  him. 

Enob.    Be  witnefle  to  me  (  O  thou  blefled  Moone  )  lo 

When  men  reuolted  fhall  vpon  Record 
Beare  hateful!  memory  :  poore  Enobarbus  did 
Before  thy  face  repent, 

CenL    Enobarbus  ? 

2  Peace  :  Hearke  further.  15 
Enob.     Oh  Soueraigne  Miftris  of  true  MelanchoUy, 

The  poyfonous  dampe  of  night  difpunge  vpon  me, 

That  Life,  a  very  Rebell  to  my  will. 

May  hang  no  longer  on  me.     Throw  my  heart 

Againft  the  flint  and  hardnefle  of  my  fault,  20 

Which  being  dried  with  greefe,  will  breake  to  powder, 

And  finifh  all  foule  thoughts.     Oh  Anthony^ 

Nobler  then  my  reuolt  is  Infamous, 

Forgiue  me  in  thine  owne  particular. 

But  let  the  world  ranke  me  in  Regifter  25 

9.  I  Stand^^  I.  StandY^^.    I  Walch.  14.  Cent]  3.  S.  Cap. 

Stand  Rowt,    I.  S.  Stand  CsLp,    I  Sold.  15.  2  /Var^]  3  Watch.  Peace  Rowe. 

Stand  Var.  '85.  2.  S.  Peace  Cap.    3  Sold.  Peace  Var.  '78. 

/^]  listen  to  Han.     list  to  SteeT.  /Var/ .*]  Separate  line,  Han.  Steer. 

Var.  *03,  *  13,  Ktly.  et  seq. 

12.  memory  •]  memory^  Cap.  Var.  '78  16-19.  Mnemonic,  Warb. 

et  seq.  17.  di/punge'\  disperge  Han. 

14,  15.  Enobarbus  ...further]  Aside,  20.  fault,']  fauit ;  Cap.  et  seq. 

Cap.  22.  [Lying  down.  Coll.  ii. 

It  seems,  on  the  contrary,  objectionable,  inasmuch  as  it  leaves  '  a  shrewd  one  to  us,' 
an  isolated  line,  which  certainly  requires  no  such  emphasis. — Ed. 

16.  Oh  Soueraigne  Mistris,  etc.]  Capell  (i,  45)  :  To  which  of  the  faboloos 
deities  is  this  prayer  of  Enobarbus  addressed  ?  It  cannot  be  Night ;  for  she  is  destr'd 
to  '  despunge,'  or  pour  down  upon  him,  *  the  poisonous  damp  of  night : '  it  must 
therefore  be  Hecate,  the  Night's  companion  in  dassicks,  and  in  Shakespeare  him- 
self.— [It  is  strange  that  Capell  did  not  see  that  Enobarbus  was  continuing  his 
address  to  the  moon. — Ed.] 

17.  dispunge]  Steevens  :  That  is,  discharge,  as  a  sponge,  when  squeezed,  dis- 
charges the  moisture  it  had  imbibed.  So  in  Hamlet^  *  it  is  but  squeezing  you,  and, 
sponge,  you  shall  be  dry  again.'    [This  is  the  earliest  reference  given  in  the  N.  £.  Z>.] 

19,  etc.  Throw  my  heart,  etc.]  Johnson  :  The  pathetick  of  Sbakspeare  too  often 
ends  in  the  ridiculous.  It  is  painful  to  find  the  gloomy  dignity  of  this  noble  scene 
destroyed  by  the  intrusion  of  a  conceit  so  far-fetched  and  unafiecting. 

24.  in  thine  owne  particular]  That  is,  in  your  own  separate  personal  capacity, 
or,  as  Deighton  says,  as  far  as  you,  individually,  are  concerned.  See  '  my  more  par- 
ticular,' I,  iii,  69. 

25.  Register]  That  is,  in  its  record,  list,  catalogue.     But  Blades,  who  endeav- 


ACT  IV,  sc  ix.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 

A  Mafler  leauer^  and  a  fugitiue : 
Oh  Anthony !  Oh  Anthony  \ 

1  Let's  fpeake  to  him. 

Cent.     Let's  heare  him,  for  the  things  he  fpeakes 
May  conceme  Ca/ar, 

2  Let's  do  fo,  but  he  fleepes. 

Cent.     Swoonds  rather,  for  fo  bad  a  Prayer  as  his 
Was  neuer  yet  for  fleepe. 
I     Go  we  to  him. 


287 
26 


30 


34 


26.  Mafter  leauer\  Majter-Uaver  F^ 
et  seq. 

27.  [Dies.  Rowe  et  seq. 

28.  I  Zrf'j]   I  Watch.  Let^s  Rowe. 
I.  S.  Let's  Cap.    i  Sold.  Let's  Var.  '78. 

28-33.  Let's.,.Jleepi\  Aside,  Cap. 

28.  to  him\  Separate  line,  Steev.  et 
seq.  (except  Cam.) 

29,  Cent.]  3.  S.  Cap. 

29.  Let's  Aeare]   Nay,  let  us  hear 


2g,  3a  Let*s,.,Cx{air]  Prose,  Knt,  Sta. 


29.  Aim]  him  further  Qk^, 

31.  2  Let's]  2  Watch.  Let's  Rowe. 
2.  S.  Lft's  Cap.    2  Sold.  Let's  Var.  '78. 

32.  Cent.]  3.  S.  Cap. 

32.  Swoom/s]  Srooons  Rowe  et  seq. 

32.  33.  Swoonds,,  Jleepe,]  Prose,  Knt, 
Sta. 

33.  for]  'fore  ox  fore  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS), 
Sing.  Ktly. 

fleepe]  sleepingSit^^NiH,  '03,' 13. 

34.  I  Go]  I  Watch.  Go  Rowe.     I.  S. 
Go  Cap.     I  Sold.  Go  Var.  '78. 


ours  to  proTe  that  Shakespeare  had  an  intimate  and  special  knowledge  of  Typography, 
obsenres  (p.  53)  that  *  the  forme  then  went  to  the  Press-room,  where  considerable 
ingenaity  was  required  to  make  "  register  "  ;  that  is,  to  print  one  side  so  exactly  upon 
the  other,  that  when  the  sheet  was  held  up  to  the  light  the  lines  on  each  side  would 
exactly  back  one  another.  The  accuracy  of  judgement  required  for  this  is  thus 
gbmced  at  [in  the  present  passage].' 

27.  Oh  Anthony  I]  Hazlitt  (p.  102)  :  The  repenUnce  of  Enobarbus  after  his 
treachery  to  his  master  is  the  most  affecting  part  of  the  play. 

32.  Swoonds]  For  the  pronunciation,  see  As  You  Like  It,  III,  ▼,  19 ;  and  for 
tiie  spelling,  see  Wint,  Tale^  IV,  iv,  17  of  this  edition. 

33.  Was  neuer  yet  for  sleepe]  Coluer  {Notes,  etc.,  p.  500)  :  Instead  of  «for 
sleep '  we  ought  to  read  '  fore  sleep,'  or  before  sleep,  and  the  word  is  altered  in  the 
MS  accordingly :  the  sense  is,  that  so  bad  a  prayer,  as  Enobaibus  had  ended  with, 
was  never  uttered  before  sleep. — [Singer  adopted  this  emendation  without  acknowl- 
edgement, as  was  his  wont  in  the  majority  of  his  notes.  Collier  (ed.  ii)  severely 
taxed  him  with  it.  Thereupon,  in  his  Shakespeare  Vindicated  (p.  295),  without 
mentioning  that  he  had  adopted  'fore  in  his  text,  Singer  remarks  that  the  emendation 
«  seems  unnecessary.'  Anon.  {Blackwood,  Oct.  1853,  p.  468)  had,  however,  a  differ- 
ent opinion;  he  observes  that  'fore  is  *  entitled  to  very  favourable  consideration.*] — 
Staunton  :  Another  instance,  we  apprehend,  where  *  for '  is  either  intended  to  repre- 
sent fore,  or  has  been  misprinted  instead  of  that  word. — [It  seems  to  me  that  the 
Soldier  would  protest  too  much  if  he  were  to  say  that  such  a  bad  prayer  had  never 
jet  been  uttered  before  going  to  sleep.  Such  an  assertion  was  hardly  within  his 
knowledge.  But  he  was  probably  right  in  saying  that  so  bad  a  prayer  had  never  yet 
been  said  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  repose  in  sleep. — Ed.] 


288 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  IV,  sc.  ix. 


2    Awake  fir^awake^  fpeake  to  vs. 

I     Heare  you  fir  ? 

Cent.    The  hand  of  death  hath  raught  him. 

Drutnmes  afarre  off. 
Hearke  the  Drummes  demurely  wake  the  fleepers  : 


35 


39 


35.  2  Awake\  2  Watch.  Awake  Rowe. 
2.  S.  Awake  Cap.  2  Sold.  AwaJie  Var.*78. 
Awake  fir  f  awake,^  Awake^  awake, 
sir,  Steev.  Varr. 

35-37.  awake,  fpeake,,.  The  hand'\ 
As  one  line,  Cap. 

35.  [to  Eno.  Cap. 

36.  I  Heare]  I  Watch.  Hear  Rowe. 
I.S.  Hear  Cap.     i  Sold.  Hear  Var.  '78. 

Heare  you]  F,.     Hear,  you  Han. 
Hear  you,  F^F^  ct  cet. 

[shaking  him.  Cap. 

37.  Cent.]  3.  S.  Cap. 


*37-4**    The. ..out,]  Lines  end,  drums 
„,htm,,, hour,., out.  Mai.  et  seq. 

37.  raught]  caught  F^,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Han. 

39.  Hearke  the]  Hearke  hew  the  Ff, 
Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  Varr.  Ran. 

demurely]  Din  early  Han.  Do 
early  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS).  Do  merrily 
Dyce  conj.  Ktly.  Clam*  rausIySiD%.  con]. 
Do  mournfully  Cartwright  Do  rudely 
Kinnear.  Do  moHnly  B.  Nicholson 
(  withdrawn. )    Do  yarely  Elxe  ap.  Cam. 


37.  raught]  The  past  participle  of  to  reach.     See  N,  E,  D,  or  Franz,  {  7. 

39.  Drummes  demurely  wake]  Warburton  :  That  is,  « demurely,*  for  sol- 
emnly,— {In  the  propriety  of  this  definition  the  Shakespearian  world  seems  to  be 
gradually  acquiescing,  after  a  temporary  flurry  started  in  1853  by  the  publication  of 
the  MS  emendations  in  Collier's  Second  Folio.  The  change,  therein  prescribed, 
from  'demurely*  to  do  early,  coupled  with  Collier's  assertion  that  the  adverb 
'  demurely  *  '  is  surely  ill  suited  to  the  sound  of  drums,*  seems  to  have  demurely 
wakened  the  sleeping  critics,  always  so  zealously  at  hand  to  help  Shakespeare  express 
his  thoughts  and  endow  his  purposes  with  words.  The  Text.  Notes  show  the  resolt 
As  none  of  these  emendations  has  been  approved  by  anybody  but  the  emenders  them* 
selves,  it  seems  needless  to  rehearse  the  arguments  by  which  they  are  maintained. 
The  latest  interpretation,  fully  in  accord  with  Warburton's,  is  authoritative,  and  with 
many  critics  will  close  all  discussion  once  and  for  ever.  Dr  Murray  (A'l  E.  D.  s.v. 
t  b.)  thus  defines  *  demurely  '  in  the  present  passage :  *  In  a  subdued  manner.'  Why 
'demurely*  is  thus  appropriate  is  set  forth  by  Dr  B.  Nicholson  {Notes  6r*  Qu,  IV, 
viii,  41 )  :  Caesar,  like  Antony,  would  renew  the  combat,  and  taking  advantage  of 
'  the  shining  *  of  the  cloudless  night,  and  a  precaution  from  it,  ordered  the  embattl- 
ing of  his  forces  to  begin  as  early  as  2  A.M.  It  would,  therefore,  only  be  in  accord 
with  his  careful  and  exact  discipline  that  any  notes  of  preparation  should,  in  pres- 
ence of  a  hostile  and  almost  victorious  force,  be  made  in  a  subdued  tone.  Other- 
wise the  enemy  might  have  unnecessary  information  and  forewarning,  or  even  make 
such  notes  of  preparation  their  signal  of  attack,  and  come  upon  him  while  defiling 
out  of  camp  and  before  his  line  of  battle  had  been  taken  up.  But  there  is  yet 
another  and  second  meaning  which  may  be  given  to  the  word  demure.  If  not  now, 
yet  at  all  events  in  1814  the  drum-reveilli  of  the  non-Latin  races  was  not  a  lively, 
merry,  or  clamorous  din,  but  a  measured  and  somewhat  solemn  beat ;  and,  judging 
from  this  and  from  the  discipline  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  and  other  considerations,  it 
seems  not  unlikely  that  the  drum-reveilI6  of  the  Low  Country,  or  German  Protestant 
armies  of  Elizabeth's  time,  was  of  the  same  character,  even  if  it  were  not  founded  on 


ACT  IV.  sc.  X.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA 


289 


Let  vs  beare  him  to'th'Court  of  Guard  :  he  is  of  note; 
Our  houre  is  fully  out. 

2     Come  on  then,  he  may  recouer  yet.  exeunt 

[Scene  X.] 

Enter  Anthony  and  ScarruSyWith  their  Army. 
Ant.     Their  preparation  is  to  day  by  Sea, 
We  pleafe  them  not  by  Land. 
Scar.     For  both ,  my  Lord. 
Ant.     I  would  the/ld  fight  i'th'Fire,  or  i'th'Ayre, 


40 


42 


5 


40.  Letvs\  Let*s  Thcob,  + ,  Cap.  Van. 
Sing. 

Let,„he  is\  One  line,  Han.  Cap. 
Var.  '78,  '85,  Ran. 
42.  then'\  Om.  Han. 

ke\  perchance  he  Words. 
he^.yet'^  Separate  line,  Han.  Cap. 
et  seq.  (except  Cam.  Ktly. ) 

exeunt]   Exeunt  with  the  Body. 
Cap. 

Scene  VI.  Rowe.    Scene  VIII.  Pope. 
Scene  IX.  Han.  Johns.    Scene  X.  Cap. 


et  seq. 

Between  the  two  Camps.  Rowe. 
Hills  without  the  City.  Cap. 

1.  Scarrus]  Scams  Ff. 

2.  hy  Sea^  Yiy  Rowe,  + .  for  sea  Cap. 
Ran.     by  sea  ;  Var.  '73  et  cet. 

5.  iUh'Fire^  M  Fire  Ff.     i*ihe  Fire 
Cap.  et  seq. 

i'ih'Ayre'l  iih*Ayre  F,.  Hh'Aire 
F.  ith'Air  F^.  in  the  air  Rowe, +  , 
Var. '78,  '8$,  Mai.  Ran.  Stecv.  Varr. 
Knt.     Vthe  air  Cap.  et  cet. 


a  psalm  tune.  In  one  of  those  inartificial  touches  of  reality  and  circumstance  which 
give  such  a  charm  to  the  tales  of  Erckmann  and  Chatrian,  the  soldier-conscript  of 
the  first  Napoleon  (IVaterlooy  ch.  xviii)  incidentally  tells  us — 'Notre  diane  com- 
mence toujours  aTant  celle  des  Prussiens,  des  Russes,  des  Autrichiens,  et  de  tous  nos 
cnnemis;  c'est  comme  le  chant  de  I'alouette  au  tout  petit  jour.  Les  autres,  aTec  leurs 
laiges  tambours,  commencent  aprte  leurs  roulements  sourds,  qui  vous  donnent  des 
idies  d*enterrement.'  (*  The  others,  with  their  big  drums,  begin  later,  and  their 
dall-sounding  rolls  awake  in  one  the  remembrance  of  a  burial.')  Now  this  I  take  to 
be  a  perfect  gloss  on  demurely  in  the  sense  of  solemnly,  as  explained  by  Warburton. 
Bat  the  one  meaning  does  not  exclude  the  other,  and  both  would  be  easily  under- 
stood by  an  audience,  since  they  were  interpreted  by  actual  beat  of  drum  within. 
This  piece  of  stage  arrangement  furnishes,  moreover,  another  important  argument  in 
their  favour.  Even  an  inferior  artist  would  not  foolishly  mar  with  the  ill  accord  of 
a  lively  raUplan  the  clase  of  so  touching  and  effective  a  scene.  Nor  could  Shake- 
speare do  so ;  but  he  would  make  use  of  that  which  he  knew  would  harmonise  with 
and  heighten  the  feelings  he  had  produced,  and  the  measured,  low-toned  and  far-off 
beats  that  demurely  woke  the  sleepers  were  heard  as  the  knell  of  one  whom  the  hand 
of  death  had  already  raught,  the  funeral  march  for  the  erring  but  repentant  soldier. 

2.  to  day  by  Sea]  Capell  (i,  45)  :  Instead  of  for,  the  modems  have— *  by' ; 
taking  it  from  the  folio's,  whose  printers  let  their  eye  slip  upon  *  by '  in  the  next  line, 
and  inserted  it  here  :  but  that  for  is  the  true  word,  is  evinc'd  (and  past  doubting  of) 
by  Scarus*  reply. — [This  plausible  emendation  has  not  received  the  attention  it 
deserves.  Even  Dyce  pays  no  heed  to  it,  and  he  is  the  only  editor,  except  Malone 
and  Rann,  who  appears  to  have  given  any  attention  to  Capell's  uncouth,  yet  sen- 
sible notes. — Ed.] 

19 


290  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  iv,  sc  x. 

Wee'ld  fight  there  too.     But  this  it  is,  our  Foote  6 

Vpon  the  hilles  adioyning  to  the  Citty 

Shall  ftay  with  vs.     Order  for  Sea  is  giuen, 

They  haue  put  forth  the  Hauen  : 

Where  their  appointment  we  may  bell  difcouer,  lo 

6,  Mat]  tkms  Coll.  u  cooj.  LH's  seek  a  ^^  MaL  Var.'ai.   kaom) 

7.  kilUi\  A$:is  F  F^.  ColL  Sing.    Uvm  /  Usie  we  iiem  Hun- 


,, J -^.  ^. ..«» 

9.    Tkey]  And  they  Ktlj.  ter  cooj.     itfVMi...  Glo.  Ckm.     havm, 

N^tmen.]    Ff,   Knt,  Su.     Jkavem.         W^U  take  mt  Omnd  Ktly.      kmtem 


Johns.  Var.  *73.     /^<Rvit  .*  Further  em  wummt  we  tkem  Hods,    kmven  :  let  m  em 

Kowe,  I\>pe,  Theoh.  Han.  Warb.  Ran.  Nicholno  (apL  Cam.)  Irving,     ktveu, 

StceT.  Var.  *03.  *I3.  Hal.    Hai^em  :  Hie  Te  tke  kUb !  Amm.  ap.  Cam. 
we^mC^^  Ntven^  Var.  *7S»  '85.  kmvem: 

9.  Ibcth  the  Hauen]  See  note  on  *  II7  fbitli  of  Egypt,'  I,  ▼,  i6l 
9,  la  They  have  pot  forth  the  Hanen :  ^Kfhcfe  their,  etc]  IC  Mason  :  I 
thiuk  Ihe  viwdi  [« Foither  00  *  (see  Text.  Aetesy[  are  ahaoitriy  necesaaiy  for  ike 
sense.  As  the  passage  stands  Antony  appears  to  say,  *  that  diey  ooahl  best  discover 
the  appointment  oi  ihe  enemy  at  the  hav«n  after  &ey  had  Idt  iL*  Bnft  if  «e  add 
the  wor\is  Fmrtker  h^  hb  speech  wtll  he  coesisleat :  *  As  dier  haw  pot  oat  of  the 
haven«  let  «$  f«>  foithcr  on  vherr  ve  may  see  &em  beOer.'  And  auLmdiiigly  in  the 
nrjLl  page  birt  vne  he  says — '  Where  yocder  pcne  does  stand,  I  shall  dimnu  alL* — 
htuONS  [tcadug.  i*€*i  see*  a  ss^ii  after  ^  Hanen  : *]  :  The  defect  of  the  metre  in 
the  old  €Vf7  shows  tba:  sceae  wT*is  vere  acodentaSy  omiEted.  In  &at  csopy  there 
is  A  colon  at  ^  haven  * — aa  ^diibooal  praor  thai  w  mi  rhing  mait  have  been  said  by 
Antvv^y^  cvnneicsed  vtch  c^e  next  bse«  and  reiaife^e  to  the  plare  vrhere  the 
mf^ht  be  rtvVttaiNixv^  TSe  «trr««  irsr^^nns  not  snch  a  pbce  ;  b^  ra&cr  so 
ftvm  whuk'h  the  hAv«Q  and  :h!<;  sai;.^  aevriy  pnc  for^  con&i  be  vimed.  What  Aatcny 
snT»  «t'vtt  ht:^  re^eci^  7cv«es  v^fcfsrvei'v  litat  he  hni  net  gcae  to  the  hnvcn.  nor  had 
anv  tV.Hi^be»  «  fct»^  di*dker.  *  t  see  says  he*,  they  hrre  rot  yet  yoioed;  bnc  m 
now  <<K.v*«f  a  QMce  vvoveoteec  sctccn  mrar  yomfcr  poe.  and  I  shaQ  d3CO«er  aS-' — 
ICv5ii*tr  •  T>e  seoMoiw.— "  CVIee  w  se*  »  gtvea  They  have  jnt  Seri  the  haven,' — 
» 'jns^roch^^KttT.  Omrit  d:.  «*!  Aaowrv  «t^  ;&ac  the  x«t  scitSea  sSoaH  sexy  wiih 
^/».  wen  tfttr  kfiJii  ju^^rjim:  tfte  ;:!br,  •  WVoee  tfeor  ^cciacmenfi  we  m^  hett  dit- 
^v^tttr.  ^  r^  e^b.*r!»  a^'ew  'sccibiig  :'or  Af  stgnfii^  cf 
w«L^  vi?^tv^  «c^  7aremi^'?<TC?r  •*at««a^e»  ire  -^  ■*»  wm 
t^^r^ntK  "f^e  ?r^^  ^"^  'ike  e««>rt?  aiiu5trtm  it  J.*  r,iei«*  ji 
<^}{Ss^in|;  -  .V  i.-,!HH  t^^r^T-^-^.T*.  *ml  5??icax  spwr?»»e 

t^  iff**   ^v  ^♦iM    n.^Ltvr^'ij^it't-mirtTC.  TW  *»?C   WU* "- 

f  K"*!!  Jh  V  inij*nr»5*af  TOO  *  mt-'^^  riikniims^      T  ^tfrmic  nir  a 

the  %v€»i    ')ii«««»    ^t?tc«'Yiini  "**«>  *'>«^'»  sccHiwical!**  Trnifre-f  edfwr  b« 

«M    ^t*.       *,^V'^  rm^\    intentiKt    s  — .•y'-iwr*f>.  ««p.   jfht  ts  nfcctKC   ry  Ro 

Wh^M^cc  '!»  XtK^rt  s>  ^iima.^  uni  '>v  hai  T  ru'^  >e«t  4Ttni«rf  »  Try  sryii\x  ]^  •*:-: 
%to    K*t^^  >'  ^tn  t>   fK*  hiinte-  —    ''^  WW  -nutTtinij  V  Vnauhe  *r  ar*  ^  ■••sac  "o  s 
!»v  •«    e*  'CNh^tm-Mt  '>c  va   i»  ittrt'  «i»^   ^    ?»i7'  iu:*«rtirt^v?inr  r»e  ric» ; 


ACT  IV,  sc.  xi.]      ANTHONY ^AND   CLEOPATRA  29I 

And  looke  on  their  endeuour.  exeunt  1 1 

[Scene  X/.] 

Enter  Ca/vr^and  his  Army. 
Caf.     But  being  charged,  we  will  be  ftill  by  Land^ 
Which  as  I  tak't  we  fhall,  for  his  beft  force 
Is  forth  to  Man  his  Gallies.     To  the  Vales, 
And  hold  our  beft  aduantage.  exeunt  5 

Scene  XI.  Dycc,  SU.  Glo.  Cam.  Scene  3.  Which  ,„JhaU,'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 

ootttinned^  Rowe  et  cet.  Which. „shall  not  Han.     Which,  as  I 

Another  part  of  the  same.  Dyce.  takit^  we  shall;  Theob.  et  cet. 

2.  £ut'\  Nat  Han.  5.  aduantage]  advaniage  F,. 

the  first  part  of  Antony's  speech  that  he  has  not  yet  gone  up  the  heights.  [In  his 
cd.  iiy  White  has  Go  we  up.] — Staunton  :  We  have  adopted  Knight's  suggestion  in 
printing  the  sentence  parenthetically,  though  there  can  be  little  doubt  some  words 
after  *  haven  *  have  been  accidentally  omitted.  Dyce's  addition,  slightly  altered  to 
'forward  then/  strikes  us  as  preferable  to  any  of  the  others.  [It  is  adopted  by 
Dughton.  It  is  such  a  passage  as  this  that  awakens  an  unavailing  regret  that 
there  is  no  Quarto  of  this  play  which  haply  might  Bll  this  hiatus,  valdissime  deJUndus. 
But  since  there  is  not,  I  prefer  to  have  the  missing  words  '  glare  by  their  absence,' 
nUher  than  fill  the  vacancy  with  any  phrase  from  hands  less  iiugust  than  Shake- 
q>eare*8.     This  is  one  of  the  imperfect  lines  noted  by  Walker  at  IV,  viii,  9. — ^Ed.] 

10,  II.  Where  their  appointment  .  .  .  And  looke  on  their  endeuour]  War- 
burton  :  That  is,  where  we  may  best  discover  their  numbers,  and  see  their  motions. 

2,  But  being  charg'd,  we  wiU  be  still  by  Land]  Warburton  :  That  is,  unless 
we  be  charged  we  will  remain  quiet  at  land,  which  quiet  I  suppose  we  shall  keep. — 
COLUER  :  <  But '  is  still  frequently  employed  in  the  north  of  England  as  a  prepo- 
sition, equivalent  to  without.  Several  ancient  instances  may  be  found  in  the  Coventry 
Mysteries,  printed  by  the  Shakespeare  Society  and  edited  by  Halliwell. — Walker 
(Crii.  iii,  307) :  That  is,  Unless  we  are  attacked,  we  will  remain  quiet,  as  far  as  our  land 
forces  are  concerned.  So  construe,  in  the  lines  subjoined  to  Chester's  Lau^s  Martyr^ 
— •  Hearts  remote,  yet  not  asunder :  Distance,  and  no  space  was  seen  'Twixt  the 
turtle  and  his  queen  :  But  in  them  it  were  a  wonder.'  //  were  a  wonder  in  any  but 
them.  Sidney,  Arcadia,  B.  iii,  p.  360,  1.  8, — * —  they  rang  a  bell,  which  served  to 
csU  certain  poor  women,  which  ever  lay  in  cabins  not  far  off,  to  do  the  household 
services  of  both  lodges,  and  never  came  to  either  but  being  called  for.*  Two  Noble 
JRtumen,  I,  i, — *  Lend  us  a  knee;  But  touch  the  ground  for  us  no  longer  time,'  etc. 
%,€.,  ^ do  but  touch,'  *■  only  touch.'  I  notice  this,  simple  as  it  may  appear,  because  I 
myself  mistook  it  for  a  long  time. — Abbott  (§  124) :  That  is,  excepting  the  sup- 
position of  our  being  charged.     [See  notes  on  III,  xi,  50.] 


292 


THE    TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  IV,  sc.  xil 


\Scene  XII\ 

Alarum  afarre  offy  as  at  a  Sea-fight. 
Enter  Anthony ^  and  Scarrus. 

Ant.     Yet  they  are  not  ioyn'd : 
Where  yon'd  Pine  does  ftand,  I  fhall  difcouer  all. 
He  bring  thee  word  ftraight,  hoVris  like  to  go.  exit. 

Scar.     Swallowes  haue  built 
In  Cleopatrds  Sailes  their  nefts.     The  Auguries 
Say, they  know  not,  they  cannot  tell,  looke  grimly, 
And  dare  not  fpeake  their  knowledge.     Anthony ^ 
Is  valiant,  and  deiefted,   and  by  ftarts 
His  fretted  Fortunes  giue  him  hope  and  feare 
Of  what  he  has,  and  has  not. 

Enter  Anthony. 

Ant.     All  is  loft  : 
This  fowle  Egyptian  hath  betrayed  me  : 


5 


10 


IS 


Scene  XII.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 
Scene  continued,  Rowe  et  cet. 

Another  part  of  the  same.  Dyce.  Hills 
adjoining  Alexandria.  Cam. 

1.  Alarum... fight.]  Transposed  to  line 
12,  Var.  '78  et  seq. 

2.  Scarrus.]  Scams.  Ff. 

3-5.  Yet.,.go.'\  Lines  end,  standy ... 
word,., go.  Cap.  et  seq. 

3.  they  are\  they're  Han.  Cap. Var.  '78, 
'85,  Ran.  Steev.  Varr. 

4.  yon^d'\  yonder  Cap.  Varr.  Ran. 
Steev.  Varr.  yond'  Mai.  Coll.  Sing.  Wh. 
Ktly.    ^<wf</ Ff  et  cet 

doesftand'\  stands  Rowe,  +  . 

5.  'm]  F.. 

7.  Cleopatra's]  Cleopatraes  F^. 

Auguries']  Ff,  Rowe,  Coll.  i,  Ktly. 
Augurs   Pope, +  ,  Var.  '73.     Augurers 


Cap.  et  cet 
8.  not^ ,., telly']  not — .,,telt —  Rowe,+. 
tell^  tell ;  Cap.  et  seq. 

1 2.  [Shouts  afar  off.  Cap. 

Scene  VII.  Rowe.  Scene  IX.  Pope, 
Warb.  Scene  X.  Han.  Johns.  Scene 
continued.  Cap.  et  cet 

13.  Enter...]  Re-enter... hastily.  Cap. 

14.  All  is]  Airs  Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 
Varr. 

14, 15.  All,., me  .*]  As  one  line,  Theob. 
Warb.  Johns.  Var.  '73,  Walker. 

14.  lofi  .•]  lost  /  Rowe. 

15.  fowle]  foule  F^.    foul  F^. 
hath]  hath  again  Kemble. 
betrayed]  betray' d  Rowe  ii.  Pope, 

Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Var.  '73,  Walker, 
Hal. 

me :]  me  !  Rowe. 


X.  Alarum  afjarre  off,  as  at  a  Sea-fight]  Since  printing  the  note  on  III,  x,  3, 1 
have  found  that  Gifford  {Silent  Woman^  IV,  ii)  asserts  that  fights  at  sea  'were 
merely  made  known  to  the  audience  by  letting  off  a  cracker  behind  the  scenes.*  It 
would  be  satisfactory  to  know  his  authority. — Ed. 

3.  Yet]  Abbott  (§  76)  :  That  is,  up  to  this  time. 

7.  Sailes^  That  is,  ships.     See  Appendix^  Plutarch. 

7.  Auguries]  If  it  were  not  for  the  grim  looks,  and  reluctant  speech,  it  would 
hardly  be  worth  while  to  change  this  to  augurers. — Ed. 


ACT  IV,  sc  xii.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  2gs 

My  Fleete  hath  yeelded  to  the  Foe,  and  yonder  i6 

They  caft  their  Caps  vp,  and  Carowfe  together 

Like  Friends  long  loft.     Triple-tumM  Whore,  'tis  thou 

Haft  fold  me  to  this  Nouice,  and  my  heart 

Makes  onely  Warres  on  thee.     Bid  them  all  flye :  20 

For  when  I  am  reueng'd  vpon  my  Charme, 

I  haue  done  all.     Bid  them  all  flye,  be  gone. 

Oh  Sunne,  thy  vprife  fliall  I  fee  no  more, 

Fortune,  and  Antltony  part  heere,  euen  heere 

Do  we  ftiake  hands.^  All  come  to  this  ?  The  hearts  25 

That  pannelled  me  at  heeles,  to  whom  I  gaue 

22.  [Exit  Scanis.  Cap.  Mai.  et  seq.  25.  /Ais ?"]  this!  Rowc,  +  . 

23-28.  Mnemonic,  Warb.  26.  panneiUdI  Ff,  Rowc.    panneWd 

24.  part  h^ere^'\  part  here;  Cap.  et  Pope,  Var. '73.  /« if/Arr'</ Theob.  Warb. 
seq.  (except  Cam. )  spanieVd  Han.  et  cet. 

25.  handsl^  Ff.     hands —  Rowe,  +  .  heeUs'\  Heals  l^sy9i^  \, 
hands.  Cap.  Mai.  et  seq. 

18.  Triple- turn 'd]  Johnson  :  She  was  first  for  Antony,  then  was  supposed  by 
him  to  have  turned  to  Ca?sar,  when  he  found  his  messenger  kissing  her  hand  ;  then 
she  turned  again  to  Antony  ;  and  now  has  turned  to  Caesar.  Shall  I  mention  what 
has  dropped  into  my  imagination,  that  our  author  perhaps  might  have  written  triple- 
tcMguedf  Double-tongued  is  a  common  term  of  reproach,  which  rage  might  improve  to 
tripU'tongued.  But  the  present  reading  may  stand. — M alone  :  Qeopatra  was  first 
the  mistress  of  Julius  Caesar,  then  of  Cneius  Pompey,  and  afterwards  of  Antony. — 
M.  Mason  :  She  first  belonged  to  Julius  Caesar,  then  to  Antony,  and  now,  as  he 
snpposes,  to  Augustus. — Steevens  :  The  sober  recollection  of  a  critic  should  not  be 
expected  from  a  hero  who  has  this  moment  lost  the  one  half  of  the  world. 

21.  Charme]  Walker  (OiV.  i,  292,  On  the  substitution  of  Words):  Nine 
lines  below,  without  any  apparent  reason  for  the  repetition  of  the  word, — *  this  grave 
charm*  ;  wrong,  surely  ;  perhaps  it  is  the  latter  '  charm  *  that  is  corrupt.  *  Grave  * 
too  looks  suspicious.— [Is  it  worth  while  to  protest  against  this  far-reaching  influence 
of  one  word  on  another,  at  a  distance  of  nine  lines  ?  What  limit  is  to  be  put  to  this 
influence  ?  *  Grave '  may  be  possibly  open  to  suspicion,  although  I  believe  it  to  be  the 
true  word  (see  note  on  line  30,  below),  but  I  think  it  was  the  witchcraft,  pure  witch- 
craft of  Cleopatra,  that  dominated  Anthony's  thoughts. — Ed.] 

23.  Oh  Sunne,  thy  vprise,  etc.]  Theobald  :  Ajax  in  Sophocles,  when  he  is  on 
the  point  of  killing  himself,  addresses  the  sun  in  a  manner  not  much  unlike  this, 
[lines  814-816.] 

26.  That  pannelled  me  at  heeles]  Johnson  :  Hanmer  substituted  spanieVd 
by  an  emendation,  with  which  it  was  reasonable  to  expect  that  even  rival  com- 
mentators would  be  satisfied  ;  yet  Warburton  proposes /<j«/'/^r'</,  in  a  note,  of  which 
he  is  not  injured  by  the  suppression  ;  and  Upton  having  in  his  first  edition  proposed 
plausibly  enough — *  That/<i^</me  at  heels,'  in  the  second  edition  retracts  his  alter- 
ation, and  maintains  paneWd  to  be  the  right  reading,  being  a  metaphor  taken,  he 
says,  from  apannel  of  wainscot. — Tollet  :  SpanieVd  \s  so  happy  a  conjecture,  that 


294  "^^^   TRACE  DIE   OF  [act  nr.  sc.  riL 

Their  wifhes,  do  dif-Candie,  melt  their  fweets  27 

37.  dif-Candie^  dif^ Candy  F,.     dis-        Theob.  i.     ^ij^ him^  Theob.  ii  et  seq. 
-Candy  F^F^.     dis-candy  Rowe,  Pope, 


I  think  we  ought  to  acquiesce  in  it.  It  is  of  some  weight  with  me  that  spaniel 
often  formerly  written  spannel.  Hence  there  is  only  the  omission  of  the  first  letter. 
— Malone  :  Spannel  for  spaniel  is  yet  the  inaccurate  pronunciation  of  some  persons, 
above  the  vulgar  in  rank,  though  not  in  literature. — Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  It  b  rather 
singular  that  the  MS  makes  no  change. 

26,  27.  That  pannelled  me  at  heeles,  to  whom  I  gaue  Their  wishes,  do 
dis-Candie,  melt  their  sweets,  etc.]  Whiter  (p.  138) :    This  passage  and  the 
succeeding   quotations  are  well  worthy  of  the  reader's  attention :— *  No,  let  the 
candied  tongue  lick  absurd  pomp,  And  crook  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee  Where 
thrift  may  ioWo^  fawning,* — Hamlet ^  III,  ii,  55;  »Will  these  moss*d  trees,  That 
have  outlived  the  eagle,  page  thy  heelsy  And  skip  where  thou  point* st  out?  will  the 
cold  brook,  Candied  with  ice,  caudle  thy  morning  taste,*  etc. —  Timon^  IV,  iii,  223 ; 
'  Why,  what  a  candy  deal  of  courtesy  This  fawning  greyhound  then  did  proffer 
me!' — /  Hen.  IV:  I,  iii,  251.     These  passages  are  very  singular.     The  curious 
reader  will  observe  that  the  fawning  obsequiousness  of  an  animal,  or  an  attendant,  is 
connected  with  the  word  candy.     The  cause  of  this  strange  association  I  am  unable 
to  discover ;  though  the  reader  must  know  but  little  of  the  human  mind — of  Shak- 
speare — or  even  of  the  ordinary  doctrine  of  chances^  if  he  imagines  that  these  matters 
were  in  four  passages  connected  by  accident.     When  the  reader  shall  be  convinced 
respecting  the  truth  of  this  observation  ;  his  curiosity  will  be  much  gratified  by  the 
following  lines  from  the  Tempest;  in  which  he  will  perceive  that  the  same  associ- 
ation still  occupied  the  mind  of  the  Poet,  though  a  single  word  only  is  apparent,  which 
relates  to  one  portion  of  the  preceding  metaphor.     *  Seb.  But,  for  your  conscience  ? 
Ant,  Ay,  sir;  where  lies  that?  if  'twere  a  kibe^  T would  put  me  to  my  slipper:  but 
I  feel  not  This  deity  in  my  bosom  :  twenty  consciences.  That  stand  'twixt  me  and 
Milan,  candied  be  they  And  melt  ere  they  molest !'— 7>«/«/,  II,  i,  275.     Surely 
the  reader  cannot  doubt  but  that  the  introduction  of  the  word  kybe  is  to  be  referred  to 
the  former  expressions,  *  page  thy  heels,'—'  spaniel*  d  me  at  heels,'  though  it  is  applied 
to  a  very  different  metaphor.     Let  me  add,  that  the  quaintness  of  the  imagery  is  an 
argument  for  the  remoteness  of  the  original.     Though  I  cannot  explain  to  the  reader 
the  cause  of  this  association  between  the  term  candy  and  the  fawning  of  a  dog ;  I 
can  diminish  his  surprise  respecting  its  existence,  by  producing  another  case,  which 
contains  a  direct  union  between  this  animal  and  an  idea  equally  remote ;  and  which 
certainly  would  have  appeared  altogether  as  extraordinary,  unless  we  had  possessed 
a  clue  to  unravel  the  mystery.     What  should  we  say,  were  we  to  find  in  an  ancient 
Greek  writer  a  combination  between  the  fawning  of  a  dog  and  the  cleansing  of  hands. 
The  union,  however,  is  so  intimate,  that  among  the  Lacedemonians  the  name  for  the 
substance,  which  they  sometimes  used  for  cleansing  of  the  hands,  is  derived  from 
the  animal.— [Hereupon  follows  an  explanation  of  this  strange  association.     The 
subject  is  not,  however,  germane  to  Ant.  <&-  C/<r^??>.]— Nares  (j.  v.  Discandy)  :  It  is 
to  be  wished  that  soraetliing  could  be  suggested  in  the  place  of  *  spaniePd  me  at 
heels,*  which  might  appear  to  lead  to  the  subsequent  idea  of  discandying.     Hearts 
that  spanierd  Antony  at  the  heels,  melting  their  sweets  upon  Coesar,  forms  a  master- 
piece of  incongruity,  which,  amidst  the  natural,  though  rapid  transitions  of  Antony's 


ACT  IV.  sc.  xii.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  295 

On  bloffoming  Ccefar  :  And  this  Pine  is  barkt,  28 

That  ouer-top'd  them  all.     Betrayed  I  am. 

Oh  this  falfe  Soule  of  Egypt !  this  graue  Charme,  30 

29,  30.  am,  OA]  F,Fj,  Rowe,  + ,  Coll.  30.  graui\  gay  Pope,  Theob.  Han. 
am  On  F^.    am;  O  Cap.  et  cet.  (subs.)         Warb.    great  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS),    grand 

3a  Oh  „,  Charme\  O  this  false  fowl  Sing,     brave  Dtn  conj. 
of^gyPtl  haggard  charmer y  Bulloch.  30,  32.  Charme,  ...end,'\  charm, — ... 

Soule]  speU  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS),  Sing.  end,--'  Var. '  78,  '85,  Mai.  Ran. 
snake  Walker. 

pasaonate  state,  we  should  not  expect  to  find. — [Be  it  borne  in  mind  that  Whiter 
attempts  merely  to  show  that  in  Shakespeare's  mind  there  was,  possibly  unconsciously, 
an  association  of  ideas  which  harmonised  what  to  us  seems  discordant.  Whiter's 
Commentary  had  been  published  nigh  thirty  years  before  Nares  wrote. — Ed.] 

30.  Oh  this  false  Soule  of  Egypt !  this  graue  Charme]  Johnson  :  By  <  this 
grave  charm,'  is  meant,  *  this  sublime,  this  majestick  beauty.* — Capkll  (i,  45;  whose 
text  reads  soil  for  *  Soule ' )  :  The  former  reading  was—*  Soule '  ;  and  the  sentence, 
with  that  word  in  it,  can  be  understood  only  of  Cleopatra :  but  they  who  can  but 
barely  imagine — she  could  be  spoke  of  in  so  vulgar  a  phrase,  and  that  by  Antony, 
have  not  pierc'd  very  deeply  either  into  him  or  the  poet.  The  moderns  retain  the 
old  reading :  and,  that  the  finishing  part  of  the  line  might  have  no  cause  to  triumph 
over  that  it  began  with,  the  four  last  of  them  alter  *  grave '  into— ^ay  /  that  is,  the 
most  noble  and  masculine  epithet  in  all  Shakespeare,  into  one  the  poorest  and  most 
unworthy,  of  him,  the  speaker,  and  the  occasion,  that  even  study  could  help  them  to. 

*  Grave  charm '  is — a  charm  or  enchantment  that  leads  to  death  or  the  grave,  too 
truly  applicable  to  the  person  intended  ;  and  they  are  the  only  words  in  the  line  that 
are  aim'd  directly  at  her :  The  other  member  of  it,  is,  as  the  reader  sees,  an*  exclam- 
atory reflection, — growing  out  of  the  words  that  precede  it, — on  the  perfidies  of 
Egyptians  in  general ;  so  numerous,  and  almost  continual,  that  he  thinks  their  soil 
itself  is  in  fault ;  and  that  they  are  made  the  people  they  are,  by  some  contagion  that 
i^>rings  out  of  that. — Stekvens  :  I  believe  *  grave  charm  *  means  only  deadly y  or 
destructive  piece  of  witchcraft.  In  this  sense  the  epithet  *  grave '  is  often  used  by 
Chapman,  in  his  translation  of  Homer.  So,  in  the  19th  book :  <  but  not  far  hence  the 
fiUal  minutes  are  Of  thy ^rav^  ruin.'  [lines  394,  395.]  Again,  in  the  22d  Odyssey: 
'and  then  flew  Minerva,  after  every  dart,  and  made  Some  strike  the  thresliold,  some 
Che  walls  invade ;  Some  beate  the  doores,  and  all  acts  rendred  vaine  Their  grave 
steel  offer'd.'  [lines  322-326.]  It  seems  to  be  employed  in  the  sense  of  the  Latin 
word  gravis, — [Collier  (ed.  ii)  pronounces  the  reading  of  his  MS  :  *  this  false  spell 
.  .  .  ^\^ great  charm  *  an  *  irresistible  emendation.']— Staunton  :  *  O  this  false  spell* 
of  Collier's  MS  is  very  plausible  ;  but  ^ great  charm,'  from  the  same  source,  is  infinitely 
less  expressive  and  appropriate  than  *  grave  charm,'  1.  e.  pernicious,  deadly y  fatal 
sorceress.— Keightley  (p.  3x9)  :  In  my  edition,  yielding  to  an  impulse  I  could  not 
resist,  I  have  added  a  final  r  to  *  charme '  both  here  and  a  few  lines  before ;  thus 
making  it  accord  with  *  witch  '  and  '  gypsy,'  as  he  also  calls  her.  But  he  likewise 
terms  her  'spell,*  and  Perdita,  Wint.  Tale,  IV,  iii,  is  called  'enchantment,'  both, 
however,  in  the  vocative. — A.  C.  Bradley  (Quart.  Rev.y  April,  1906,  p.  349)  :  Why 
should  not  '  grave  '  have  its  usual  meaning  ?     Cleopatra,  we  know,  was  a  being  of 

*  infinite  variety,'  and  her  eyes  may  sometimes  have  had,  like  those  of  some  gipsies, 
a  mysterious  gravity  or  solemnity  which  would  exert  a  spell  more  potent  than  her 


296  THE   TRACE  DIE   OF  [act  iv.  sc.  xiL 

Whofe  eye  beckM  forth  my  Wars,  &  calM  them  home  :  3 1 

Whofe  Bofome  was  my  Crownet,  my  chiefe  end, 

Like  a  right  Gypfie,  hath  at  faft  and  loofe 

BeguilM  me,  to  the  very  heart  of  lofTe. 

What  Eros y  Eros  ?  35 

Enter  Cleopatra. 
Ah,  thou  Spell !  Auaunt 

Geo.     Why  is  my  Lord  enraged  againft  his  Loue  ? 

Ant.     Vanifh,  or  I  fhall  giue  thee  thy  deferuing,  39 

35.  Eros  /]  Eros  I  Rowe.  39.  Vani/k,'\  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Coll.  Dycc, 

37.  Auaunt^  Avant  F^F^,  Rowe,  +  .  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.    Vaniih  I  Sta.    Vanish  ; 

38.  Louer]  Love;  F^.  Cap.  et  cet. 


gaiety.     Their  colour,  presumably,  was  what  is  called  *  black  * ;  but  surely  they  were 
not,  as  Tennyson  imagined,  « bold  black  eyes.* 

32.  was  my  Crownet,  my  chiefe  end]  Steevens  :  Dr  Johnson  supposes  that 
*  crownet*  means  last  purpose  y  probably  from^iiM  coronal  opus.  Chapman,  Homery 
bk,  ii,  uses  crown  in  the  sense  which  my  learned  coadjutor  would  recommend :  •  all 
things  have  their  crowne.^  Again,  in  our  author's  Cymbeline  :  •  My  supreme  crvam 
of  grief.' — [Is  the  foregoing  rather  superfluous  note  open  to  the  suspicion  of  having 
been  written  solely  for  the  sake  of  a  reference  to  *  my  learned  coadjutor '  ?  Steevens 
was  extremely  proud  (can  he  be  censured  ?)  of  being  the  only  man  whose  name 
appears,  as  an  author,  on  the  same  title-page  with  Dr  Johnson's. — Ed.] 

33.  at  fast  and  loose]  Sir  J.  Hawkins  :  This  is  a  term  to  signify  a  cheating 
game,  of  which  the  following  is  a  description.  A  leathern  belt  is  made  up  into  a 
number  of  intricate  folds,  and  placed  edgewise  upon  a  table.  One  of  the  folds  is 
made  to  resemble  the  middle  of  the  girdle,  so  that  whoever  should  thrust  a  skewer 
into  it  would  think  he  held  it  fast  to  the  table ;  whereas,  when  he  has  so  done,  the 
person  with  whom  he  plays  may  take  hold  of  both  ends,  and  draw  it  away.  This  trick 
is  now  known  to  the  common  people,  by  the  name  of  pricking  at  Ihe  belt  or  girdle^ 
[or garter,  according  to  Gifford]  and  perhaps  was  practised  by  the  Gypsies  in  the  time 
of  Shakespeare. —Steevens  :  This  supposition  is  confirmed  by  the  following  Epigram 
in  an  ancient  collection  called  Run  and  a  great  Cast,  by  Thomas  Freeman,  1614 : 
^Epig.  95.  « Charles  the  ^Egyptian,  who  by  jugling  could  Make/w/  or  loose,  or  what- 
soere  he  would,'  etc. — Reed  :  That  the  i^gyptians  were  great  adepts  in  this  art  before 
Shakspeare's  time,  may  be  seen  in  Scot's  Discffverie  of  Witchcraft,  1584,  p.  336, 
[Of fast  or  loose,  hatv  to  knit  a  hard  knot  upon  a  handkercher,  and  to  undoo  the  samu 
with  words. — Bk.  13,  Chap,  xxix.]  where  these  practices  are  fully  explained. — [It  is 
mentioned  twice  in  Love's  Lab.  Lost,  I,  ii,  150,  and  III,  i,  xo8.] 

34.  very  heart  of  losse]  Johnson  :  To  the  utmost  loss  possible. — Capell  (i^ 
46)  :  This  is  a  phrase  importing — the  most  perfect  and  absolute  loss,  1.  e,  ruin  ;  and 
is  taken  from  trees,  whose  heart  and  centre  is  commonly  perfecter  than  their  extreams. 
— [This  Capellesque  gem  ought  not  glow  unseen.] 

39.  Vanish]  Shakespeare  applies  this  verb  to  many  objects,  but  especially,  I  think, 
to  witches,  dreams,  ghosts,  exhalations,  etc.  Geopatra  in  the  last  scene  applies  it 
to  Iras's  departing  life.  Here  Anthony,  in  thus  using  it,  continues  the  image,  *  Thou 
Spell !  Avaunt !  '—Ed. 


ACT  IV,  sc.  xii.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  297 

And  blemifh  Ca/ars  Triumph.     Let  him  take  thee,  40 

And  hoift  thee  vp  to  the  fhouting  Plebeians, 

Follow  his  Chariot,  like  the  greateft  fpot 

Of  all  thy  Sex.     Moft  Monfter-like  be  fhewne 

For  poor'ft  Diminitiues,  for  Dolts,  and  let  44 

41.  to  the]  to  th*   Ff,   Rowe,    Sing.  43.  Jhezone]  the  shew  Han. 

Walker,     unto  the  KUy.  44.  Diminitittes]  Diminutiues  Ff. 

Plebeians^  Plebeians ;  Rowe  et                  for  DoUs^  Ff.    for  dolts ;  Rowe, 

seq.  (subs.)  Pope,  Theob.   Han.  Johns,     to  dolts; 

43.  Mqft^  Om.  Han.  Tyrwhitt,  Var.  '78,  '85,  Steev.  Var.  '03, 

Monfter-like^   Monfter  like   F^         *I3.    >r  </<w:^  Thirlby,  Warb.  ct  cet. 
Rowe. 


41.  Plebeians]  Walker  {^Vers.  161):  'Plebeian* — with  the  exception  of  a 
angle  passage  [Henry  V:  V,  i,  Chorus,  27],  is  pronounced //^^wn/  as  it  still  is  by 
the  common  people. 

44.  For  poor'st  Diminitiues,  for  Dolts]  In  a  letter  to  Theobald,  in  May,  1729 
(Nichols,  lUust,  ii,  228)  the  Rev.  Styan  Thirlby  proposed  the  change  of  *  dolts* 
to  doits.  Theobald,  in  his  edition  refers  to  Warburton's  knowledge  of  this  emen- 
dation ;  when  Warburton*s  edition  appeared,  in  1747,  he  made  no  reference  to 
Thirlby,  but  put  forth  the  emendation  as  his  own,  and  to  him  it  has  been  wrongly 
accredited  ever  since,  until  the  appearance  of  the  Text,  Notes  in  the  Cam,  Ed. 
Theobald*  s  own  note  on  the  word  thus  concludes,  after  giving  his  reasons  for  reject- 
ing doits :  *  Perhaps  the  Poet's  meaning  may  be,  that  Geopatra  should  become  a 
show,  a  spectacle  to  the  scum  and  rabble  of  Rome ;  to  blockheads,  and  people  of  the 
lowest  rank.  Geopatra  speaks  twice  afterwards  to  the  same  effect  [see  V,  ii,  65, 
And  252].* — Warburton  :  As  the  allusion  here  is  to  monsters  carried  about  in 
shows,  it  is  plain,  that  the  words,  *  for  poorest  diminutives,*  must  mean  for  the  least 
piece  of  money.  We  must  therefore  read  :  *  for  doils,*  i,  e,  farthings,  which  shows 
what  he  means  by  *  poorest  diminutives.* — Capell  (i,  46,  reading  doits) :    Had 

•  dolts  *  been  the  word,  the  Poet  would  have  said,  to  dolts,  to  poor'st  diminutives ;  as 
he  has,  two  lines  higher,  *  to  the  shouting  plebeians  * ;  which  very  words  led  him  to 

•  for  *  and  to  doitSf  to  avoid  a  co-incidence  of  thoughts  and  expression  in  lines  so 
near  one  another. — Tyrwhitt  (in  answer  to  Warburton* s  note) :  There  was  surely 
DO  occasion  for  the  poet  to  show  what  he  meant  by  purest  diminutives.  The  expres- 
sion is  clear  enough,  and  certainly  acquires  no  additional  force  from  the  explana- 
tion. I  rather  believe  we  should  read  :  *For  poor'st  diminutives,  to  dolts ;^  This 
aggravates  the  contempt  of  her  supposed  situation  ;  to  be  shown,  as  monsters  are^  not 
only  for  the  smallest  piece  of  money y  but  to  the  most  stupid  and  vulgar  spectators. — 
Malone  :  I  have  received  the  emendation  made  by  Warburton,  because  the  letter  1, 
in  consequence  of  the  dot  over  it,  is  sometimes  confounded  with  /  at  the  press.  It 
appears  to  me  much  more  probable  that  *  dolts  *  should  have  been  printed  for  doitSj 
than  that  *  for '  should  have  been  substituted  for  to.  Whichsoever  of  these  emen- 
dations be  admitted,  there  is  still  a  difficulty.  Though  monsters  are  shown  to  the 
stapid  and  the  vulgar  for  *  poor'st  diminutives,'  yet  Cleopatra,  according  to  Antony's 
supposition,  would  certainly  be  exhibited  to  the  Roman  populace  for  nothing.  Nor 
can  it  be  said  that  he  means  that  she  would  be  exhibited  gratis,  as  monsters  are 


298  THE   TRA  GEDIE   OF  [act  iv.  sc  xii. 

Patient  0£lauia^  plough  thy  vifage  vp  45 

With  her  prepared  nailes.  exit  Cleopatra. 

'Tis  well  th'art  gone, 

If  it  be  well  to  Hue.     But  better  'twere  — 

Thou  fell'ft  into  my  furie,  for  one  death 

Might  haue  preuented  many.     Eros^  hoa  f  50 

45.  Patient'\  Passioned  Theob.  conj.  47.  th^art^  thouWt  Rowe  et  seq. 
(withdrawn.)                                                           49.  into\  under  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS). 

46,  47.  iViih.„g(me']  One  line,  Rowe  50.  hoal'\  hoa!  Rowe. 
et  seq. 


shown  for  small  pieces  of  money ;  because  his  words  are  <  monster-like,  be  [thoa] 
shown  for  poorest  diminutives.'  I  have  sometimes  therefore  thought  that  Shakspeare 
might  have  written  :  *  Fore  poor  diminutives,  fore  dolts.'  The  following  passage  in 
Tro.  and  Cress,  adds  some  support  to  my  conjecture :  <  How  the  poor  world  is 
pestered  with  such  waterflies,  diminutives  of  nature!'  [V,  i,  38.] — Knight:  We 
believe  that  the  <  poor'st  diminutives '  are  the  lowest  of  the  populace,  as  the  <  dolts  *  are 
the  most  stupid.  We  must  therefore  understand  *  for '  to  mean,  for  the  gratification 
of;  or  adopt  Malone's  suggestion  of  •  be  shown  fore^^  etc. — Dyce  pronounces  this 
explanation  of  Knight  *  very  curious,*  quotes  Knight's  understanding  of  •  for,*  and 
subjoins  his  favourite  exclamation  mark. — Deighton  (reading  doils)  :  With  the 
reading  [of  the  Folio]  <  for '  could  only  have  the  sense  of  '  for  the  gratification  of,' 
a  very  forced  one ;  while  Malone's  objection  that  Cleopatra  would  be  shown  for 
nothing  is  of  little  value,  since  Shakespeare  was  evidently  thinking  of  the  exhibition 
of  monsters,  strange  fishes,  etc,  at  fairs,  etc.,  in  his  own  country.  Compare  Tempest^ 
II,  ii,  28-34. — RoLFE  (reading '  dolts ')  :  But  the  reference  is  to  Cleopatra's  being  led 
in  triumph  through  the  streets  of  Rome,  a  '  free  show  *  for  the  rabble,  not  to  her  being 
exhibited  for  a  fee.  Besides  it  seems  more  natural  for  Antony  to  emphasize  the  low 
character  of  the  spectators  than  the  pettiness  of  the  price  charged,  if  there  were  any. 
The  only  other  instance  of  •  diminutives '  is  in  Tro,  6r*  Cress.  V,  i,  38,  where  it 
means  insignificant  persons.  '  Monster-like '  is  equivalent  to  as  a  monstrosity ;  bat 
it  is  not  necessary  to  see  any  reference  to  the  fact  that  monsters  were  exhibited  itx 
money. — [The  defence  of  the  Folio  may  well  be  left  in  the  hands  of  Theobald  and 
of  Rolfe.  The  degradation  lay  in  being  exhibited  at  all,  not  in  any  sum  charged 
for  •  admission.'  And  it  is  noteworthy  how  deeply  the  Uunt  sank  into  Cleopatra's 
mind  by  her  double  reference  to  it  afterward,  and  how  her  fateful  imagination  mag* 
nified  it  by  her  description  of  the  atmosphere  arising  from  the  greasy  mechanics,  the 
dolts,  and  poorest  diminutives.  Dyce  calls  Knight's  interpretation  of  *  for  *  *  veiy 
curious,'  and  Deighton  pronounces  it  *  very  forced.'  Compare,  *  For  Banquo's  issue 
have  I  filed  ray  mind.'    Wherein  does  Anthony's  *  for '  differ  from  Macbeth's  ? — Ed.] 

46.  her  prepared  nailes]  Warburton  :  That  is,  with  nails  that  she  suffered  to 
grow  for  this  purpose.  [This  interpretation  strikes  me  as  puerile.  *  Prepared '  here 
means,  I  think,  all  ready ^  at  any  time, — Ed.] 

48-50.  better  'twere  Thou  fell'st .  .  .  haue  preuented  many]  Deighton  :  In 
truth  it  would  have  been  better  for  you  to  die  by  my  fury  than  to  suffer  death  many 
times,  as  you  will  in  the  terrors  to  which  your  cowardice  will  be  exposed.  Compare 
Jul.  Cces.  II,  ii,  32,  'Cowards  die  many  times  before  their  deaths;  The  valiant  ne^er 


ACT  IV,  sc.  xii.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  299 

The  (hirt  of  Nejfus  is  vpon  me,  teach  me  5 1 

Alcidesy  thou  mine  Anceftor,thy  rage. 

Let  me  lodge  Ucas  on  the  homes  o'th^Moone,  53 

51.  vpon  fmf]  upon  me;  Roweetseq.         rt^e ;  Helped  thee  Theob.  conj.     rt^e : 
52,53.  mge,  Letme'\  Ff,  Theob.  Johns.         Let  me  Rowe  et  cet. 
rage^  Led  thee  HdiU.  rage  Led  thee  ^suh.  53.  Licas]  ZfV>iaf  Theob. 

taste  of  death  bat  once/ — [I  find  it  impossible  to  accept  Deighton*s  paraphrase  of 
this  difficult  passage,  and  it  is  the  only  paraphrase  that  any  editor  or  critic,  as  far  as 
I  know,  has  vouchsafed  us.  The  <  many '  deaths  cannot  refer  to  imaginary  deaths, 
as  Deighton  supposes ;  if  he  is  correct,  the  inference  is  clear  that  it  would  be  a  pres- 
ent mercy  to  kill  every  coward  who  fears  to  die,  which  would  go  near  to  depopulate 
the  world.  Anthony  does  not  say  that  Cleopatra's  present  death  would  prevent  many 
future  deaths,  real  or  imaginary,  but  his  words  are  that  her  death  (in  time  past) 
*  might  have  prevented  many '  (others,  of  soldiers  slain  in  battle).  In  this  case,  *  bet- 
ter'twere  thou  fell' st'  is  equivalent  to  *  better  '  twere  thou  shouldst  have  fallen,' — 
the  sequence  of  tenses  will  hardly  permit  ^fell'st'  to  be  the  perfect  indicative.  Can 
it  be  that  in  Anthony's  present  conviction  of  Cleopatra's  treachery  there  rise  in  his 
memory  past  occasions  when  he  mistrusted  her,  notably  her  reception  of  Caesar's 
messenger  ?  and  he  now  sees  that  it  would  have  been  better  had  she  fallen  under  his 
fury  then  ?  and  by  one  death  *  might  have  prevented  many '  ? — Ed.] 

51,  etc.  The  shirt  of  Nessus,  etc.]  Heath  (p.  463) :  While  Antony  is  contem- 
plating his  present  inevitable  ruin,  brought  upon  him,  as  he  thought,  by  the  treachery 
of  the  woman  who  was  dearest  to  him,  his  imagination  presents  to  him  his  supposed 
ancestor  Hercules  in  circumstances  exactly  parallel,  wrapped  up,  by  the  instrumen- 
tality of  Deianira's  deceived  jealousy,  in  the  poisoned  shirt  of  Nessus,  from  which  it 
was  impossible  he  could  ever  extricate  himself  alive.  Upon  this  point,  his  imagi- 
nation taking  fire  transports  him  almost  to  a  delirium.  He  fancies  himself  to  be  a 
real  Hercules,  and  the  shirt  of  Nessus  to  be  actually  upon  him ;  and,  after  invoking 
his  ancestor  to  inspire  him  with  the  same  rage,  with  which  he  was  actuated  on  the 
like  occasion,  he  is  instantly  on  the  wing  to  exert  it  in  the  very  same  effects,  in  the 
lodging  Lichas  on  the  horns  of  the  moon,  and  in  subduing  his  worthiest  self,  with 
those  very  Herculean  hands  that  grasped  the  heaviest  club.  All  which,  when 
stripped  of  those  violent  figures  in  which  his  heated  hnagination  had  cloathed  it, 
terminates  in  no  more  than  this,  the  taking  the  severest  vengeance  on  the  instrument 
of  his  ruin,  and  putting  an  end  to  his  life  by  his  own  hands.  The  most  exception- 
able expression  perhaps  is,  the  bestowing  the  epithet,  worthiest^  on  himself;  but  even 
this  exaggeration  will  appear  excusable  at  least,  if  not  justifiable,  when  it  is  con- 
sidered, that  it  is  not  seriously  intended  as  a  vain-glorious  vaunt,  but  proceeds  wholly 
from  a  transport  of  the  fancy,  which  represents  him  to  himself  for  that  moment  as 
the  very  Hercules  in  person. — Capell  (i,  46)  :  Lichas  was  not  lodg'd  by  Hercules 
quite  upon  'the  horns  of  the  moon,'  but  was  thrown  from  the  top  of  Mount  Oeta 
into  the  sea  :  Antony's  exaggeration  in  this  place,  and  the  puffin  ess  of  what  he  speaks 
next,  should  be  consider*  d  as  specimens  of  that  Asiatick  tumour  of  diction,  which 
the  Poet  (using  Plutarch's  authority)  has  made  a  part  of  his  character;  throwing  it 
into  some  of  his  speeches  as  occasion  presented,  and  most  properly  into  this. 

53.  Let  me  lodge  Licas]  Warburton  :  This  image  our  poet  seems  to  hare 
taken  from  Seneca's  Hercules ^  who  says  Lichas  being  launched  into  the  air,  sprinkled 


300  THE    TRACED  IE   OF  [act  iv,  sc.  xiii. 

And  with  thofe  hands  that  grafpt  the  heauieft  Club, 

Subdue  my  worthieft  felfe  :  The  Witch  (hall  die,  55 

To  the  young  Roman  Boy  fhe  hath  fold  me,  and  I  fall 

Vnder  this  plot  :  She  dyes  for't.     Eros  hoa  ?  exit.  57 

{Scene  XIII.] 

Enter  Cleopatra^  Charmiany  IraSy  Mardian . 

Cleo.     Helpe  me  my  women  :  Oh  hee's  more  mad 
Then  Telamon  for  his  Shield,  the  Boare  of  Theffaly 
Was  neuer  fo  imboft.  4 

55.  my]  thy  Theob.  conj.  Han.  Warb.         XI.  Cap.  et  cet. 

</i>,]  die  :  FjF^  et  seq.  Alexandria.   A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

56.  y(n4ng]  Om.    Han.   Cap.   Steev.  Cap.     A  street  in  Alexandria.  Kemble. 
Var.  »03,  '13,  Huds.  I.  Enter...]  Re-enter...  Pope. 

57.  this]  his  FjF^,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  2.  wom^]  Ttwrnan  Ff. 
Warb.  Johns,     her  Han.  he^s]  he  is  Ff  et  seq. 

Scene   XHI.  Dyce,  Sta.   Glo.   Cam.  4.  *>«^^]  ^w^wjWar. '73  et  seq. 

The  Scene  continued,  Rowe,+  .     Scene 


the  clouds  with  his  blood.  [<  In  astra  missus  fertur,  et  nubes  vago  Spargit  cmore.' — 
HercuUs  (Etaus^  III,  817.] — ^Johnson  :  The  meaning  is,  *  Let  roe  do  something  in 
my  rage,  becoming  the  successor  of  Hercules.* 

55.  my  worthiest  selfe]  Staunton  :  Would  Antony,  in  this  hoar  of  bitter 
remorse,  speak  of  his  '  worthiest  self  ?  He  might  have  said  *  my  worthless  self  ; 
yet  the  context,  *  the  witch  shall  die,'  makes  it  more  probable  he  is  thinking  of  Qeo- 
patra,  and  that  what  the  author  wrote  was,  'Subdue  my  worthless  elf,*  ^^  being 
synonymous  with  witch  or  fairy. — [Alas  !  alas  !  See  Heath's  note  on  line  51,  with 
which,  however,  I  am  not  fully  in  accord.  By  •  worthiest  self,'  I  think  Anthony 
means  that  part  of  bis  nature  which  is  noblest  and  best, — this  had  been  in  snbjection 
to  Cleopatra  ;  he  now  prays  for  strength  to  control  it,  <  subdue '  it,  and  make  it  again 
subservient  to  his  will. — Ed.] 

56.  young]  Dyce  (ed.  ii)  :  This  word  has  been  rejected  by  several  editors;  and 
assuredly,  while  it  injures  the  metre,  it  adds  nothing  to  the  sense. — Hudson  :  Prob- 
ably the  Poet  wrote  boy  as  a  substitute  for  youngs  and  then  both  words  got  printed 
together.  *  Roman  boy  *  conveys  a  sneer,  which  'young  Roman '  does  not. — Abbott 
(§  498)  :  If  the  text  be  correct,  this  line  seems  a  pure  Alexandrine. 

3.  Telamon  for  his  Shield,  the  Boare  of  Thessaly]  Steevkns  :  That  is,  than 
Ajax  Telamon  for  the  armour  of  Achilles,  the  most  valuable  part  of  which  was  the 
shield.     *  The  boar  of  Thessaly '  was  the  boar  killed  by  Meleager. 

4.  Was  neuer  so  imbost]  Bradley  {N.  £.  D,  s.  v.  Emboss)  :  Middle  English 
embose^  perhaps  formed  on  En-  +  old  French  bos^  bois,  wood ;  the  equivalent  Old  French 
^mbuiser  occurs  with  sense  of  Ambush,  If  so,  the  word  is  ultimately  identical  wiA 
Tmbosk  verb.  The  development  of  senses  as  suggested  below  is  strange,  but  appe&is 
to  be  in  accordance  with  the  existing  evidence,  f  I.  intr.  Of  a  hunted  animal :  To 
take  shelter  in,  plunge  into,  a  wood  or  thicket,     f  b.  The  past  participle  is  used  by 


ACT  IV,  sc.  xiv.]    ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA 


301 


Char.     To'th'Monument,  there  locke  your  felfe, 
And  fend  him  word  you  are  dead : 
The  Soule  and  Body  riue  not  more  in  partings 
Then  greatneffe  going  off. 

Cleo.     To'th'Monument  : 
Mardiatty  go  tell  him  I  haue  flaine  my  felfe  : 
Say,  that  the  laft  I  fpoke  was  Antlionyy 
And  word  it(prythee)  pitteoufly.     Hence  Mardian^ 
And  bring  me  how  he  takes  my  death  to'th'Monument. 

Exeunt. 

[Scene  X/K] 

Enter  Anthony y  and  Eros, 
Ant.     EroSy  thou  yet  behold'ft  me  ? 
Eros.     I  Noble  Lord. 
Ant.     Sometime  we  fee  a  clowd  that's  Dragonifh, 


S 


10 


14 


5, 6.  there  locke n.»dead'\  One  line.  Pope 
et  seq. 

6.  you  are'\  you*  re  Pope,  +  ,  Dyce  ii, 
in. 

7,  8.  Mnemonic,  Warb. 

9. 13.  Tb'M']  F,.  To  th'  FjF^,  Wh.  i. 
To  the  Sleev.  et  seq. 

12, 13.  And.,. Monument']  Lines  end, 
/fence, ...  death. ...  Monument.  Steev.  et 
seq.  (except  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.) 

12.  ^tythee]  prethee  F{f  Kowt  \.  pri- 
thee Rowe  ii,  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  pr^ythee 
Pope  et  cet 

pitteoufly]  F,.  pittioufly  l\.   piti- 


oujly  F^,  Rowe. 

13.  death]  Ff,  Rowe.  death,  Han. 
death.  Pope  et  cet. 

to^th^  Monument.]  Separate  line, 
Sta. 

Scene  XIV.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 
Scene  VIII.  Rowe.  Scene  X.  Pope, 
Warb.  Scene  XL  Han.  Johns.  Scene 
XII.  Cap.  et  cet. 

Cleopatra^s    Palace.    Rowe.     The 
same.  Another  Room.  Cap. 

X.  Enter...]  Re-enter...  Theob. 

2.  me?]  me,  Theob. +  . 

4-15.  Mnemonic,  Pope,  Warb. 


Milton  for  imbosked.  f  2.  To  drive  (a  hunted  animal)  to  extremity,  f  3.  In  pas- 
sive of  a  hunted  animal :  To  be  exhausted  by  running  ;  hence,  to  foam  at  the  mouth 
(as  a  result  of  exhaustion  in  running).  Also,  transferred  sense,  of  persons :  («)  To 
be  exhausted,  at  the  last  extremity  of  fatigue  ;  (^)  to  foam  at  the  mouth  (from  rage, 
etc.).     4.  transitive.  To  cover  with  foam  (the  mouth,  the  body  of  an  animal). 

5.  To'th*Monument]  See  Plutarch,  Appendix. 

4.  Sometime  we  see  a  clowd,  etc.]  Hazlitt  (p.  loi) :  This  is,  without  doubt, 
one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  poetry  in  Shakespeare.  The  splendour  of  the  imagery,  the 
semblance  of  reality,  the  lofty  range  of  picturesque  objects  hanging  over  the  world, 
their  evanescent  nature,  the  total  uncertainty  of  what  is  led  behind,  are  just  like  the 
moaldering  schemes  of  human  greatness.  It  is  finer  than  Cleopatra's  passionate  lamen- 
tation over  his  fallen  grandeur,  because  it  is  more  dim,  unstable,  unsubstantial. — 
[In  the  Variorum  of  1821  those  who  list  may  find  four  or  five  tepid  quotations  from 
sundry  authors,  which,  according  to  Steevens  and  Malone,  probably  furnished  Shake- 


302  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  nr,  sc  xrr. 

A  vapour  fometime,  like  a  Beare,  or  Lyon,  5 

A  toward  Cittadell,  a  pendant  Rocke, 

A  forked  Mountaine,  or  blew  Promontorie 

With  Trees  vpon't,  that  nodde  vnto  the  world, 

And  mocke  our  eyes  with  Ayre. 

Thou  haft  feene  thefe  Signes,  lO 

They  are  blacke  Vefpers  Pageants. 

5.  vapour]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han.  8.  world]  wind  Cap.  conj.  (with- 
Dyce,   Glo.  Cam.     vapour^  Theob.   ct         drawn.  Notes ^  i»  47* ) 

cet  9,  lo.  And. ..Signes]  One  line,  Rowe 

6.  toward]  Yi.    towered  "Rowe  eiseq.         et  seq. 

7.  6Uw]  bltu  Rowe.  la    Thou  haft]  Thot^st  Popc,+. 

speare  with  the  imagery  of  these  lines.  It  is  a  waste  of  time  to  read  tfaem,  an 
unpardonable  waste  of  paper  and  ink  to  reprint  them. — Ed.] 

II.  Pageants]  Murray  {N.  E.  D.  s.v.^i  Origin  and  history  obscure,  i.  A 
scene  acted  on  the  stage ;  specially,  one  scene  or  act  of  a  mediaeval  mystery  play, 
f  2.  A  stage  or  platform  on  which  scenes  were  acted  or  tableaux  represented ;  espe- 
cially in  early  use,  the  movable  structure  or  *  carriage,'  consisting  of  stage  and  stage 
machinery,  used  in  open  air  performances  of  the  mystery  plays.  3.  A  tablean,  repre- 
sentation, allegorical  device,  or  the  like,  erected  on  a  fixed  stage  or  carried  on  a 
moving  car,  as  a  public  show ;  any  kind  of  show,  device,  or  temporary  structure, 
exhibited  as  a  feature  of  a  public  triumph  or  celebration.     (This  sense,  in  which 

*  scene*  and  '  stage'  are  combined,  may  have  been  the  intermediate  link  between  I 
and  2. ) — [In  conclusion  Dr  Murray  gives  an  extremely  valuable  Note^  wherein  is 
discussed  the  two  main  early  senses  of  the  word,  which  were  '  a  scene  displayed  on 
a  stage '  and  <  a  stage  on  which  a  scene  is  exhibited  or  acted.'  Unfortunately  this 
purely  philological  question  is  not  germane  to  these  pages.  It  is  not  to  be  st^>- 
posed  that  in  using  the  word  *  Pageants'  Shakespeare  had  in  mind  the  uncouth 
clumsy  structures  or  the  barbarous  acting  of  the  early  Moralities  or  Mysteries.  The 
pageants  of  his  day  were  elaborate,  allegorical,  and  superbly  furnished.  Warton 
(ii,  365)  says  <  the  frequent  and  public  exhibition  of  personifications  in  the  Pageaunts, 
which  anciently  accompanied  every  high  festivity,  greatly  contributed  to  cherish  the 
spirit  of  allegorical  poetry,  and  even  to  enrich  the  imagination  of  Spenser.  [Foot- 
note.] And  of  Shakespeare.  There  is  a  passage  [the  present,]  in  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra^  where  the  metaphor  is  exceedingly  beautiful  ;  but  where  the  beauty  both  of  the 
expression  and  the  allusion  is  lost,  unless  we  recollect  the  frequency  and  the  nature 
of  these  shews  in  Shakespeare's  age.'  On  p.  202,  et  seq.  of  the  same  volume.  War- 
ton  gives,  from  contemporary  sources,  an  account  of  the  magnificence  of  Pageants 
in  which  even  royal  personages  took  part.     Whiter,  also,  writes  to  the  same  effect. 

*  It  is  impossible,'  he  says  (p.  199),  speaking  of  Pageants  presented  at  Court,  'for 
the  reader  to  form  an  adequate  notion  of  these  performances,  or  to  conceive  their 
impression  on  the  minds  of  those  to  whom  they  were  familiar,  unless  he  will  himself 
consult  the  original  narratives,  which  describe  their  exhibition.  When  he  reflects  on 
the  immense  sums  which  were  lavished  on  these  occasions ;  and  considers  that  the 
most  celebrated  artists  and  poets  of  the  age  were  employed  in  displaying  before  a 
voluptuous  Court  the  most  consummate  specimens  of  their  skill,  he  will  readily 


ACT  IV.  sc.  xiv.]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


303 


Eros.     I  my  Lord. 

Ant     That  which  is  now  a  Horfe,  euen  with  a  thoght 
the  Racke  diflimeSy  and  makes  it  indiflinfl 
As  water  is  in  water. 

Eros.     It  does  my  Lord. 

Ant.     My  good  Knaue  Eros^  now  thy  Captaine  is 
Euen  fuch  a  body  :  Heere  I  am  Anthony^ 
Yet  cannot  hold  this  vifible  fhape  (  my  Knaue  ) 
I  made  thefe  warres  for  Egypt,  and  the  Queene, 
Whofe  heart  I  thought  I  had,  for  fhe  had  mine  : 
Which  whil'ft  it  was  mine,  had  annext  vntoo't 
A  Million  moe,  (  now  loft : )  fhee  Eros  has 
Packt  Cards  with  Ca/arSy  and  falfe  plaid  my  Glory 


12 


IS 


20 


24 


13.  eugn\  ev'n  Johns. 

14.  the]  F,.      The  Ft 

di/limes]  Ff.  dislimn^s  Rowe, 
Pope,  dislimns  Theob.  et  scq.  dislimbi 
KUy  conj. 

16.  doei\    dds   F^F^,   Rowe,    Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

18.  Euen]  Ev'n  Johns. 
/am]  Tm  Popc,  +  . 

19.  Knaue\]  knave,  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 

20.  Egypt,]  Ff,  Rowe,  Coll.  Wh.  i, 
Hal.     Egypt :  Pope  et  cet. 

Queene.]  Ff,  Rowe,  + ,  Coll. Wh.  i. 


Ktly,  Hal.     queen, —  Cap.  et  cet. 

21.  mine  :]  mine)  Vo^.    mine,liaji. 
Coll.  Wh.  i.  Cam.  KUy,  Hal. 

23.  moe]  Ff,  Ktly,  Cam.    more  Rowe 
et  cet. 

now  /o/i:]  Ff.  now  tost;  Rowe, 
Coll.  Wh.  i,  Hal.  now  lost!  Pope,  +  , 
Var.  '73.     new  lost, —  Cap.  et  cet. 

24.  Caefars,]  Ff,Coll.  i.    Ojar,  Rowe 
et  seq. 

fal/e plaid  ]false-playdC9i^,  Knt, 
Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam. 


acknowledge  the  saperior  grandeur  of  these  romantic  spectacles.'  See  also  Whiter's 
note  on  V,  ii,  97. — Ed.] 

14.  the  Racke  dislimes]  Whiter  (p.  195)  :  This  is  a  continuation  of  the 
same  allusion  to  a  pageant.  .  .  .  Mark  the  following  quotation  from  Jonson*s 
Masque  of  Hymen  :  *  Here  the  upper  part  of  the  scene,  which  was  all  of  clouds,  and 
made  artificially  to  swell,  and  ride  like  the  rack,  began  to  open,*  etc.  [p.  59*  cd. 
Giflford.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  Whiter  is  here  right  in  saying  that  this  is  a 
continuation  of  the  allusion,  although  Anthony' s  speech  throughout  deals  with  actual 
clouds.  See  a  long  discussion  on  *rack*  or  wreck  in  The  Tempest,  IV,  i,  178  (of 
this  ed.),  where  Staunton  excellently  remarks,  of  the  phrase  'Leaue  not  a  rack 
behinde*  :  'While  it  is  evident  that  by  "rack**  was  understood  the  drifting  vapour, 
or  scud,  as  it  is  now  termed,  it  would  appear  that  Shakespeare,  in  the  present 
instance,  as  in  another  occurring  in  Ant,  &*  Cleop.,  was  thinking  not  more  of  the 
actual  clouds  than  of  those  gauzy  semblances,  which,  in  the  pageants  of  his  day,  as 
in  the  stage- spectacles  of  ours,  were  often  used  partly  or  totally  to  obscure  the  scene 
behind.*— Ed.] 

19,  20.  (my  Knaue)  .  .  .  the  Queene]  Thiselton  (p.  24) :  Possibly  these  sug- 
gested the  metaphor  from  cards,  which  is  perhaps  continued  by  the  word  *  triumph.* 

24,  25.   Packt  Cards  with  Caesars,  and  false  plaid  my  Glory    Vnto  an 


304  '^^^   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  iv.  sc.  adv. 

Vnto  an  Enemies  triumph.  25 

Nay,  weepe  not  gentle  EroSy  there  is  left  vs 
Our  felues  to  end  our  felues. 

Enter  Mardian. 
Oh  thy  vilde  Lady,fhe  has  robM  me  of  my  Sword. 

Mar.     No  Anthony^  30 

25.   Enemies]  Enemy's  F^F^.  29.  vilde']  vile  F^. 

triumph,']  triumph —  Pope,  Theob.  Jhe  has]  sh*  has  Pope,  + . 

Han.  Warb.  ^^...5w^</]  Separate  line,  Rowe 

29.  thy]  the  F^,  Rowe,  Pope.  et  scq. 


Enemies  triumph]  War  burton  :  Shakspeare  has  here,  as  usual,  taken  his  meta- 
phor from  a  low  trivial  subject ;  but  has  enobled  it  with  much  art,  by  so  contriTing 
that  the  principal  term  in  the  subject  from  whence  the  metaphor  was  taken,  should 
belong  to,  and  suit  the  dignity  of  the  subject  to  which  the  metaphor  is  transferred: 
thereby  providing  at  once  for  the  integrity  of  the  figure,  and  the  nobleness  of  the 
thought  And  this  by  the  word  triumph,  which  either  signifies  Octavius's  conquest, 
or  what  we  now  call,  contractedly,  the  trump  at  cards,  then  called  the  triumph  or  the 
triumphing  sort. — JOHNSON  :  This  explanation  is  very  just ;  the  thought  did  not 
deserve  so  good  an  annotation. — Malone:  I  believe  Warburton  here,  as  in  many 
other  places,  saw  more  than  his  author  meant.  Shakspeare,  I  think,  only  intended 
to  say,  that  Cleopatra,  by  collusion,  played  the  great  game  they  were  engaged  in 
falsely,  so  as  to  sacrifice  Antonys  fame  to  that  of  his  enemy.  The  playing  false  to 
the  adversary's  trump  card  (as  Warburton  explains  the  words)  conveys  no  distinct 
idea.  The  plain  sense  of  the  passage  will  appear  from  the  following  dialogue  in 
Florio's  Second  Frvtes,  1 591  :  *S.  What  a  shoofHing  doo  you  keepe  with  those 
cardes?  A.  I  plaie  faire  plaie,  and  shooflfell  them  as  I  ought.  S.  Me  thinkes 
you  pcick  and  set  them.'  [p.  69.  Assuredly,  Malone  is  right.  To  play  false  to  your 
opponents  trump  can  do  no  harm  to  anybody  but  the  player  and  his  partner.  Possi- 
bly, the  sentence  may  be  thus  paraphrased  : — She  <  stacked '  the  cards  in  Caesar's 
favour,  and  then,  by  her  cheating,  converted  my  glory  into  an  enemy's  triumph. 
Warburton* s  note  renders  needless  the  many  conunents  on  the  conversion  of  'the 
triumph  card'  into  *the  trump  card.' — Ed.] 

24.  Caesars]  For  the  superfluous  s  see  I,  iv,  11. 

29.  she  has  rob'd  me  of  my  Sword]  Capell  (i,  47) :  Words  that  should  not 
be  taken  metaphorically,  as  some  have  suppos'd,  but  literally;  for  that  he  had  no 
sword  of  his  own,  appears  by  what  he  says  to  Eros  [line  94],  and  he  afterwards  dies 
by  his  sword :  nor  is  it  any  objection,  that  this  sword  is  call'd  by  Dercetas  Antony's 
sword  [V,  i,  30] ;  who  only  gives  it  that  name  as  knowing  'twas  the  sword  that  he 
dy'd  by,  and  look'd  no  farther.  Qeopatra's  action  proceeded  from  tenderness  :  she 
saw  the  rage  he  was  in;  and,  fearing  the  effects  of  it,  withdrew  (or  cans' d  to  be 
withdrawn),  the  instrument  of  his  harm. — [If  there  were  any  special  meaning  in  ask- 
ing Eros  to  use  his  own  sword,  it  may  have  been  that  there  was  therein  less  thooght 
of  suicide.  Later  on  Anthony  asks  Diomed  also  to  draw  his  sword  and  give  suf- 
ficing strokes  for  death  ;  possibly,  in  this  case,  because  the  sword  of  Eros  was  still  in 
the  wound.  Cleopatra  had  robbed  Anthony  of  his  sword  just  as  the  belief  in 
demona's  infidelity  had  robbed  Othello  of  his  occupation. — Ed.] 


ACT  IV,  sc.  xiv.]    ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


305 


My  Miftris  lou'd  thee,  and  her  Fortunes  mingled 
With  thine  intirely. 

-/4«/.Hence  fawcy  Eunuch  peace,  fhe  hath  betraid  me, 
And  fhall  dye  the  death. 

Mar.     Death  of  one  perfon,  can  be  paide  but  once. 
And  that  fhe  ha's  difchargM.     What  thou  would'ft  do 
Is  done  vnto  thy  hand  :  the  laft  fhe  fpake 
Was  Anthony y  moft  Noble  Anthony  : 
Then  in  the  midd^fl  a  tearing  grone  did  breake 
The  name  of  Anthony  :  it  was  diuided 
Betweene  her  heart,  and  lips  :  fhe  rendred  life 
Thy  name  fo  buried  in  her. 

Ant.     Dead  then  ? 

Mar.     Dead. 

Ant.     Vnarme  Eros^  the  long  dayes  taske  is  done, 
And  we  mufl  fleepe  :  That  thou  depart'fl  hence  fafe 
Does  pay  thy  labour  richly  :  Go.  exit  Mardian. 

Off,  plucke  ofT, 
The  feuen-fold  fhield  of  Aiax  cannot  keepe 


31 


35 


40 


45 


49 


32.  intirely]  entirely  Warb. 

33t  Z^Jhe.., death']  Separate  line,  Han. 
Cap.  et  seq. 

34.  Jhall]  she  shall  Rowe,  Pope, 
Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 

35-42.  Mnemonic,  Pope,  Warb. 

36.  ha^s]  has  Yi.     hath  Cap. 

41.  rendred]  tendered  Ff.  rendered 
Warb.  Cap.  et  seq. 

45.  VnanneY.ro&^  F,.  Unarme,  Eros, 
F  F^.  Unarm  me,  Eros^  Rowe,  + ,  Cap. 
Dyce  ii,  iii,  Ktly,  Huds.    Eros,  unarm; 


Ritson  (ap.  Cam. ),  Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13. 
Unarm,  Eros  Var.  *73  et  cet. 

46.  Jleepe  :]  sleep,  Johns.  Coll.  Dyce, 

Wh.  Ktly,  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.    sleep  !  Sta. 

[To  Mardian.  Han.  Warb.  Johns. 

Glo.  Cam.  Dyce  ii,  iii.    Om.  Cap.  et  cet. 

47, 48.  Does,,. off ^  As  one  line,  Rowe, 
Pope,  Han.  Cap.  Var.  *  78  et  seq. 

48.  Off,]  Oh,  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.  Om. 
Han.  Cap. 

49.  The]  Then  Johns,  (misprint?) 


45.  Vnarme  Eros]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  The  MS  puts  it  'Unarm  me,  Eros'  [see 
Text.  Notes],  which  we  cannot  believe  to  be  right,  because  the  metre  is  thus  unneces- 
sarily disturbed.  Steevens,  almost  wantonly,  read  'Eros,  unarm.' — Dyce,  after 
quoting  the  foregoing,  adds :  '  A  note  which  shows  that  Mr  Collier  has  rather 
odd  ideas  on  the  subject  of  metre.' — Walker  (CnV.  ii,  262)  :  Shakespeare  wrote 
•  Unarm  me,  Eros.' — Lettsom  {footnote  to  foregoing) :  Collier  has  rejected,  on  met- 
rical grounds,  this  elegant  and  certain  emendation,  but  he  is  quite  mistaken.  See 
Walker's  Vers.  Art.  ix.  There  are  more  than  fifty  similar  verses  [i.  e.  where  there 
is  an  extra  syllable  after  a  pause]  in  Collier's  text  of  this  very  play. — [Oxen  and 
wainropes  cannot  draw  me  from  the  conviction  that '  Unarm  me,  Eros/  is  what  Shake- 
speare wrote.  It  was  through  the  careless  pronunciation  of  the  compositor's  reader 
that  the  me  was  lost  in  the  final  m  of  '  Unarm'  and  in  the  E  of  '  Eros.'  See  II,  ii, 
141 ;  IV,  viii,  24;  V,  ii,  268.— Ed.] 
ao 


306  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  nr,  sc  adv. 

The  battery  from  my  heart.     Oh  cleaue  my  fides.  50 

Heart,  once  be  ftronger  then  thy  Continent, 

Cracke  thy  fraile  Cafe.     Apace  Eros^  apace; 

No  more  a  Soldier  :  bruifed  peeces  go. 

You  haue  bin  Nobly  borne.    From  me  awhile,    exit  Eros 

I  will  oVe-take  thee  Cleopatra^  and  55 

Weepe  for  my  pardon.     So  it  muft  be,  for  now 

All  length  is  Torture  :  fmce  the  Torch  is  out,  57 

50.  The\  This  Johns,  conj.  53.   [Unanning  himself.  Pope. 
Oh.,./tdesS\  Oh^  cleave  my  sides!            54.  awhiU]  F,Fj,  Dycc,  Glo.  Gun. 

Han.   Var.  *73.      O   cleave y    my  sides  I  a  while  F^  ct  cct. 

Theob.  et  seq.  (subs.)  56.  So  it'\  A»VPope,  +  . 

51.  [Unarming  himself.  Rowe.  57.  len^h]  life  Steev.  conj. 
53.   So/dier  :^  soldier— Koyrt,  + .   sol-  M^]  My  Han. 

dier,  Ktly. 

50.  The  battery  from  my  heart]  Boswell:  This  means,  I  apprehend,  'the 
haXitry  proceeding  from  my  heart,  which  is  strong  enough  to  break  through  the  seven- 
fold shield  of  Ajax ;  I  wish  it  were  strong  enough  to  cleave  my  sides  and  destroy 
me.* — [Anthony  is  unarming,  and,  as  Eros  *  plucks  off*  his  breastplate,  is  reminded 
of  the  folly  of  supposing  that  such  a  mere  sheet  of  metal  could  protect  his  heart  from 
a  battery  against  which  Ajax's  seven -fold  shield  would  have  proved  vain.  Then, 
as  he  breathes  freer,  and  his  chest  expands,  he  prajrs  his  heart  to  cleave  his  sides, 
that  for  once  it  may  find  relief  in  breaking.  BoswelFs  note  is  to  me  incompre- 
hensible, and  what  is  still  more  incomprehensible  is  that  five,  at  least,  of  recent  edi- 
tors should  have  adopted  it  in  whole  or  in  part.  A  shield  is  for  the  protection  of 
the  bearer.  Who,  one  may  ask,  was  the  bearer  of  Ajax*s  shield,  who  was  to  be  pio- 
tected  from  the  battery  'proceeding  from*  Anthony's  heart?  Against  whom  was 
Anthony  about  to  open  a  battery  from  his  heart?  and  with  what  object?  His  own 
heart  was  the  citadel  from  which  the  battery  could  not  be  kept. — Ed.] 

50,  51.  cleaue  my  sides.  Heart]  I  utterly  mistrust  the  period  in  the  Folio  after 
'sides,*  which  has  been  practically  retained  by  every  editor.  It  makes  Anthony 
adjure  his  sides  to  cleave,  scil.  themselves.  This  intransitive  or  reflexive  use  of 
'cleave*  is  rare;  see  Murray  (N.  E.  D.)  where  comparatively  few  examples  of  it 
are  given.  Replace  the  period  with  a  comma,  and  *  cleave  *  then  becomes  the 
imperative  of  a  transitive  verb  with  *  sides*  as  an  object,  and  *  Heart*  as  the  subject: 
'  Oh,  Heart,  cleave  my  sides  !  *  Then,  in  a  manner  thoroughly  Shakespearian,  the 
idea  is  repeated,  but  in  a  different  form :  *  for  once  be  stronger  than  thy  continent, 
crack  thy  frail  case.* — Ed. 

51.  Continent]  Steevens  :  That  is,  the  thing  that  conteins  thee.  [Of  which 
Schmidt's  Lex.  will  furnish  many  examples.] 

57.  length]  Halliwell  {Select.  Notes,  p.  35)  J  This  word  may  stand  for  length 
^/i/^.— [Assuredly.  And  for  length  of  time,  of  breathing,  of  heart-beats,  of  every- 
thing.    It  is  what  it  is  :  length  in  the  abstract. — Ed.] 

57.  Torture  .  .  .  Torch]  Although  it  is  dimly  possible  that  the  latter  word  was 
unconsciously  suggested  by  the  sound  of  the  former,  yet  the  similarity  in  sound  was 


ACT  IV,  sc.  «v.]  ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  307 

Lye  downe  and  ftray  no  farther.     Now  all  labour  $8 

Marres  what  it  does  :  yea,  very  force  entangles 
It  felfe  with  ftrength  :  Seale  then,  and  all  is  done.  60 

Eros?  I  come  my  Queene.     Eros  ?  Stay  for  me, 
Where  Soules  do  couch  on  Flowers,  wee'l  hand  in  hand, 
And  with  our  fprightly  Port  make  the  Ghoftes  gaze  : 
Dido^  and  her  jEneas  fhall  want  Troopes, 

And  all  the  haunt  be  ours.     Come  Eros^  Eros.  65 

Enter  Eros. 
Eros.     What  would  my  Lord  ?  67 

58.  ^ray]  stay  Rowe  ii  (misprint  ?)  61.  me,"]  me;  Cap.  et  seq. 

fartherlfurther  Rowe  ii,  + ,  Varr.  64,  iEneas]  Sichaus  Warb.  Han. 

Ran.  Slecv.  Varr.  Dyce.  67, 68.  IVhat. . .  Since^  I  come  my  Lord: 

60.  SeaW]  Seal  F^.     sleep  Han.  —Here's  one  brings  word  0/ Enobarbui 

61.  Eros?]  Eros!—  Rowe  et  seq.  death.  Ant.  I  have  forgiven  him.  Since 
Siay^  Say  Ff.  Kemble. 


leflB  in  Shakespeare's  day  than  at  present.  It  was  probably  pronounced,  somewhat 
as  in  French,  tort-yeure. — Ed. 

58-6a  Now  sdl  labour  Marres  what  it  does  :  3rea,  very  force  enUngles  It 
■elfie  with  strength]  Walker  ( Crit.  iii,  309)  appositely  compares  these  lines  with 
Satinet  lavXx '.  *  Or  some  fierce  thing  replete  with  too  much  rage.  Whose  strength's 
abundance  weakens  his  own  heart,  .  .  .  And  in  mine  own  love*s  strength  seem  to 
decay,  0*ercharg'd  with  burthen  of  mine  own  love's  might.'  Deighton  thus  para- 
phrases the  latter  clause :  *  Yea,  all  strong  efforts  only  confound  themselves  by  their 
strength  ;  what  should  be  the  source  of  success  only  ensures  failure. 

60.  Seale  then]  Theobald:  Antony  had  offended  Geopatra  with  his  suspicions ; 
he  is  about  doing  something  to  deserve  her  pardon  :  and  he  thinks  stabbing  himself 
will  seal  that  pardon. — ^Warburton  :  Metaphor  taken  from  civil  contracts,  where, 
when  all  is  agreed  on,  the  sealing  compleats  the  contract ;  so  he  hath  determined  to 
die,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  give  the  stroke. — Johnson  :  I  believe  the  reading 
is :  *  seel  then,  and  all  is  done.'  To  seel  hawksy  is  to  close  their  eyes.  The  mean- 
ing will  be  :  *  Gose  thine  eyes  for  ever^  and  be  quiet. ^ — Steevens  :  The  old  read- 
ing is  the  true  one.  Thus,  in  Henry  V:  *  And  so  espous'd  to  death,  with  blood  he 
seaVd  A  testament  of  noble-ending  love.'  [IV,  vi,  26.] 

64.  Dido,  and  her  ^neas]  Warburton  :  But  Dido's  fondness  did  not  reach  to 
the  other  world ;  she  then  despised  i^neas,  and  returned  to  her  old  affection  for 
Sichaeus.  I  should  think,  therefore,  that  the  Poet  wrote,  *  Dido  and  her  Sichaus,* 
And  the  rather,  because  the  comparison  of  Antony  to  Sichseus  is  remarkably  apposite. 
Sichseus  was  murdered  by  his  brother  Pygmalion  for  his  wealth,  on  which  his  wife, 
I>ido,  fled  into  Africa :  So  Antony  was  fought  with  and  defeated  at  Actium  by  his 
brother  Octavius,  for  his  share  of  the  dominion  of  the  world,  whereon  Geopatra  fled 
from  the  victor's  rage  into  Egypt.  [*  and  there  is  salmons  in  both.' — Ed.] — Capell 
(i,  47)  :  The  Poet  did  not  stay  to  consider,  whether  Dido's  love  for  uCneas  did  or 
did  not  follow  her  into  the  other  world  ;  it  was  very  sufficient  for  his  purpose — that 
the  loves  of  her  and  vEneas  were  of  great  fame,  which  made  them  a  fit  couple  to 
be  rank'd  with  those  he  is  talking  of. 


3o8 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  it,  sc  xnr. 


Ant.     Since  Qeopatra  dyed, 
I  haue  liuM  in  fuch  dilbonour,  that  the  Gc<ds 
Deteil  my  baieneiTe.     I,   that  with  my  Sword, 
Quarter  d  the  World,  and  o*ne  greene  Neptunes  backe 
With  Ships,  made  Cities;  condemne  vof  Cdfe,  to  lacke 
The  Courage  of  a  Woman,  ieiie  Noble  minde 


68 


70 


73 


hmd  ]  FiM  Sir  4 


72.  LJk.-atri-.]  .?S£:,  Rowie,  J^^^>>^  ^ 


,>  .,-«^-»^]  TJF^  mMt 
Rcve.  W«*5.  V».  -73.     w«^ 

Kcrr^CbZL  b. 


udbeaft  sc2  iiii'iil  firoaks 


r-fi^  W^  S&^pi^  aiA^  Oia»;  Onin««L  .^?«- ^  rZLvbznvae  14:' 
^  hm  .-WW  5r  yurjtam'      ricuarr;!^  3»n«««:L  nuri^'^rywrH  i 


U 


St 


>tw;.*i>in  ^ifi«i<*s^  unc  -us*  luthe  anmi    Jit  ■«!-  ^  "  auix»|!^ 
-:hfi*    «!%£  itaK;.  jMOc«!iwmiV   ^anm^  awt  ^tfwc  in  mi  awe 

^•jrtK^htr   itHuvmrnntK^    m  Wt»cil.  ^«j  -bksc  Ujw^l   tsmtaiii*  jmL  at 

-4lM^  ii  "WAiiwik       >*^«ix.«!>8-  -rH«  -nqnlfiic^'iM:    •  ^jmaana  vmsmf  n  jh^ 
'K;^MiK(«to«v.  -pmf.  Irnfm  >»«c*»  jwnncmq^r  ir  ^n^hv  ^  Bimnann.  ipr^iH  yr' 
•iW^  -NHime^  A'  %  •'•Mttmnfc  '        V«w<"*"    »  252^  ^numiw^  -aum  jmt  shot  - 


0 

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ACT  IV,  sc.  xiv.]   ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  309 

Then  fhe  which  by  her  death,  our  Ccefar  telles 

I  am  Conqueror  of  my  felfe.     Thou  art  fworne  EroSy  75 

That  when  the  exigent  fhould  come,  which  now 

Is  come  indeed  :  When  I  fhould  fee  behinde  me 

Th'ineuitable  profecution  of  difgrace  and  horror, 

That  on  my  command,  thou  then  would'ft  kill  me. 

Doo%  the  time  is  come  :  Thou  ftrik'ft  not  me,  80 

Tis  Cafar  thou  defeated.     Put  colour  in  thy  Cheeke. 

Eros.     The  Gods  with-hold  me. 
Shall  I  do  that  which  all  the  Parthian  Darts,  83 

75.  I am\  Tm  Pope,  +  ,  Dyce  ii,  iii.  featest,., cheek,  Ktly.     Lines  end,  of.,. 

I,..felfe'\  As  quotation,  Theob.  et  command^ ...  come  :  ...defeatist. ...  cheek, 

seq.  (subs.)  Cap.  et  seq. 

77.  indeed:^  indeed,  Rowe  et  seq.  80.  Dodt,  /he]  F,.  Do  i/,  for  the 
(mbs.)  Pope,  + .    Do  V,  the  F^F^  et  cet  (subs.) 

78-«i.  Th'ineuitable... Cheeke.^  Lines  81.  *7m]  7i7/F^.     'AT/ Rowe. 

end,  disgrace... then... come :  ...defeatist.  thy]  my  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope. 

.,.  cheek.   Rowe,  +  ,   Knt.      Lines   end,  82.  »i^,]  Ff,  Rowe.    iw^.*  Pope,    me! 

prosecution . . .  command . . .  come. — . . .  de-  Theob.  et  seq. 

night  have  been  made  a  little  clearer  had  the  punctuation  of  the  Folio  been  followed. 
But  every  editor  since  Rowe  has  placed  a  semi-colon  or  a  colon  after  *  Woman,'  and  so 
disjointed  the  sentence.  Walker  {Crit.  iii,  310)  says  »  Read  "  less  noble-minded,^^ ' 
His  editor,  Lettsom,  in  a  footnote,  observes,  •  So  Rowe  and  all  the  earlier  editors. 
Malone  and  Steevens  have  done  their  best  to  darken  noon.  Compare  for  the  mean- 
ing of  minded.  Tarn,  of  the  Shrew,  II,  i,  **  I  am  as  peremptory  as  she  proud-minded.**  * 
Possibly,  it  would  be  better  to  accept  *  less  noble- mind^///  but  it  is  not  necessary ;  *  I, 
less  noble  mind'  is,  to  me,  fully  as  intelligible,  and  rather  more  dignified  in  its 
humiliation.  — Ed. 

78.  Th'ineuitable  prosecution  of  disgrace  and  horror]  This  line,  with  its 
eight  feet  catalectic,  has  given  much  metrical  trouble.  Its  predecessor  and  suc- 
ceasor  are  adequately  correct,  but  this  line  is  certainly  a  notable  violation  of  the  laws 
of  blank  verse.  To  utter  these  words,  proclaiming  his  open  shame,  must  have  cost 
Anthony's  proud  spirit  a  fierce  struggle ;  every  word  is  a  torture,  and  his  emotion 
nnist  have  been  almost  uncontrollable  before  he  could  bring  himself  to  utter  •  disgrace* 
and  *  horror.*  Wherefore,  disregarding  all  metrical  laws  whatsoever,  I  would,  with 
a  long  pause  after  « of,'  put  *  disgrace  and  horror  *  in  a  separate  line,  and  allow  the 
ether  lines  to  remain  und'sturbed.  Although  this  arrangement  is,  in  effect,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  eye,  yet  through  the  eye  it  conveys  an  intimation  of  the  way  in  which, 
as  I  think,  it  should  be  spoken. — Ed. 

81.  Put  colour  in  thy  Cheeke]  Elsewhere  Shakespeare  makes  us  sec  how  terror 
blanches  the  cheek.  '  Out,  you  tallow-face,'  says  old  Capulet  to  Juliet  when  he  tells 
ber  she  must  marry  Paris.  •  What  soldiers,  whey-face  ? '  asks  Macbeth  of  the  Ser- 
vant who  brings  the  news  of  the  approach  of  ten  thousand  English.  John  Hunter 
paraphrases  it,  however,  *  Rouse  the  blood  into  thy  face  through  eagerness  to  defeat 
r.'— Ed. 


3IO  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  iv.  sc.  xiv. 

(Though  Enemy)  loft  ayme,  and  could  not. 

Ant.   EroSy  85 

Would'ft  thou  be  windowM  in  great  Rome,  and  fee 
Thy  Mafter  thus  with  pleacht  Armes,  bending  downe 
His  corrigible  necke,  his  face  fubdu'de 
To  penetratiue  fhame ;  whil'ft  the  wheelM  feate 
Of  Fortunate  Ccefar  drawne  before  him,  branded  90 

His  Bafeneffe  that  enfued. 

Eros.     I  would  not  fee't. 

Ant.     Come  then  :  for  with  a  wound  I  muft  be  cur'd. 
Draw  that  thy  honeft  Sword,  which  thou  haft  wome 
Moft  vfefull  for  thy  Country.  95 

Eros.     Oh  fir,  pardon  me. 

Ant.     When  I  did  make  thee  free,  fwor'ft  y  not  then 
To  do  this  when  I  bad  thee  ?  Do  it  at  once, 
Or  thy  precedent  Seruices  are  all 
But  accidents  vnpurposM.     Draw,  and  come.  lOO 

Eros.     Tume  from  me  then  that  Noble  countenance, 
Wherein  the  worfhip  of  the  whole  world  lyes. 

Ant.     Loe  thee. 

Eros.     My  fword  is  drawne. 

Ant.     Then  let  it  do  at  once  105 

The  thing  why  thou  haft  drawne  it. 

Eros.     My  dee  re  Mafter, 
My  Captaine,  and  my  Emperor.     Let  me  fay  108 

84.  Enemy\  enemies  Ktly.  98.  bad'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Tlieob.  i, 

not.'\  not  ?  Rowe  et  seq.  Han.  Cap.     bade  Theob.  ii  ct  cet 

87.  Thy\  The  F^.  103.  thee\  there  Wh.  i  conj. 

pleacht'\  pleach^ d  C2i.p,  et  seq.  [Turning  from  him.  Rowe. 

89.  wheel* d^  wheel  ]o\ms.  ap.  Cam.  105.  let  it'\  Om.  Words. 

91.  enfued.^  ensued?  Rowe  ii  et  seq.  at  onee'\  Om.  Han. 

97.  jJ]  thou  Ff.  108.  Emperor]  empWor  Pope,  + . 

87.  pleacht  Armes]  Johnson  :  Arms  folded  in  each  other. — [In  the  frontispiece 
of  Bmlon's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  the  woe-begone  *  Inamorato '  is  represented  with 
'pleacht  arms,*  as  a  sign  of  sadness. — Ed.] 

88,  89.  His  corrigible  necke, .  .  .  penetratiue]  Steevkns  :  *  CorrigiUe '  for 
corrected^  and  *  penetrative '  for  penetrating.  So  Virgil  has  * penetrabUe  frig^us  *  for 
*  penetrans  frigus,*  in  his  Georgics,  [i,  93.] 

91.  His  Basenesse  that  ensued]  Johnson  :  The  poor  conquered  wretch  that 
followed. — Singer:  This  is  a  little  inaccurate  ;  the  captives  came  before  the  victor 
in  the  order  of  a  Roman  triumph. 

102.  the  worship]  Johnson  :  That  is,  the  dignity,  the  authority. 


ACT  IV,  sc.  xiv.]    ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  311 

Before  I  ftrike  this  bloody  ftroke,  Farwell. 

Ant.     'Tis  faid  man,  and  farewell.  1 10 

Eros.     Farewell  great  Chiefe.     Shall  I  ftrike  now  ? 

Ant.     Now  Eros.  KilUs  himfelfe. 

Eros.     Why  there  then  : 
Thus  I  do  efcape  the  forrow  of  Anthonies  death. 

Ant.    Thrice-Nobler  then  my  felfe,  115 

Thou  teacheft  me  :  Oh  valiant  Erosy  what 
I  (hould,  and  thou  could'ft  not,  my  Queene  and  Eros 
Haue  by  their  braue  inftruftion  got  vpon  me 
A  Nobleneffe  in  Record.     But  I  will  bee 

A  Bride-groome  in  my  death,  and  run  intoo't  120 

As  to  a  Louers  bed.     Come  then,  and  Eros, 
Thy  Mafter  dies  thy  Scholler  ;  to  do  thus 
I  learnt  of  thee.     How,  not  dead?  Not  dead  ? 
The  Guard, how?  Oh  difpatch  me.  124 

109.  FarweU'\  farewell  Yi,  1 21.  Come  then^"]  Rowe,  Pope,  Han. 

I IX  Killes...]  After  line  i  i3,Rowe,  +  .  Come  then;  Theob.  Warb.  et  seq. 

113,  114.   Why  ,„  for  row]  One  line,  M^»,]  M^w  /  [taking  Eros' sword. 

Han.  Cap.  Var.  '78, '85,  Mai.  Ran.  Steev.  Cap. 

Coll.    Dyce,  Cam.     Two  lines,  ending  122.   [Falling  on  his  Sword.  Rowe. 

gAen  ^  „.  sorrow.   Pope,  Theob,  Warb.  123.  learn/']    leamU  Han.     learned 

Johns.  Var. '  73  et  seq. 

113.  then .•]  then —  Rowe,  + .  How,  not"]  Ff,  Rowe.    How^  not 

1 14.  Ido'\  do  I  Theob.  ii,Warb.  Johns.  yet  Pope,  + .    How  !  not  yet  Cap.    How  ! 
Varr.  Ran.  Varr.  Coll.  Wh.  i,  Hal.  not  Var.  '73  et  seq. 

^Anthonies  </ra/>i]  Separate  line,  124.  Guards  how  ?'\Y{.  Gttard-^how! 

Pope  ct  seq.  —  Rowe,    Pope,    Han.    Knt      Guard 

[Dyes.  Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  —ho!—    Theob.    Warb.    Johns.    Sta. 

115.  TXririsAWArr]  F.Fj,  Dyce,  Glo.  Guard? how  !—Q;a,^,yKt.'''j%.  Guard? 
Thrice  Nobler  Y^ticeL  _^^/— Var. '73.  Guard,  hoi—  Var. 
fel/e^l  self  I  Pope  et  seq.  '8$,  Ran.  Dyce,  Wh.  Glo.  Cam.  Guard! 

116.  me:"]  me^  Pope  et  seq.  — how! —  Mai.   Guard! — ho! —  Steev. 

117.  thou'\  Om.  FjF^.  Varr.  Sing.  Ktly,  Hal.  Coll.  iii.    Guard! 
not,]  not;  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  — how? — Coll.  i,  ii.    Guard  now  !  Barrj 

Warb.     mft.  Johns,  et  seq.  (subs.)  ap.  Coll. 


113.  Why  there  then]  After  these  words  Theobald  inserted  the  stage  direc- 
tion, £res  kills  himself;  and  then,  to  make  assurance  double  sure,  adds  at  the  close 
of  the  next  line.  Dyes,  This  slaying  of  the  slain  was  faithfully  copied  by  Warbur- 
TO!f  and  Johnson,  who,  while  sneering  at  Theobald  at  every  turn,  printed,  almost 
alATiably,  from  his  edition. — Ed. 

117-119.  my  Queene  and  Eros  Haue  ...  got  vpon  me  A  Noblenesse,  etc.] 
Xhat  is»  my  Queen  and  Eros  have  gained  the  advantage  of  me  in  the  history  of  noble 
deeds.     See  Franz's  note  on  II,  iv,  11,  «you*le  win  two  dayes  vpon  me.' — Ed. 

120.  A  Bride-groome  in  my  death]  Steevens  :  Compare  *  If  I  must  die,  I  will 
encoonter  darkness  as  a  bride,  And  hug  it  in  mine  ttnD&:^Meas,for  Meas,  III,  i,  83. 


312  THE    TRACED  IE   OF  [act  iv,  sc.  xiv. 

Enter  a  Guard.  125 

\. Guard.     What's  the  noife? 
Ant.     I  haue  done  my  worke  ill  Friends  : 
Oh  make  an  end  of  what  I  haue  begun. 
2     The  Starre  is  falne. 

I     And  time  is  at  his  Period.  130 

All.     Alas,  and  woe. 
Afit.     Let  him  that  loues  me,  ftrike  me  dead. 

1  Not  I. 

2  Nor  I. 

3  Nor  any  one.  exeunt         135 
Dercetus.  Thy  death  and  fortunes  bid  thy  folowers  fly 

This  fword  but  fhewne  to  Ccefar  with  this  tydings, 
Shall  enter  me  with  him. 

Enter  Diomedes. 

Dio.     ^h^TQ^s  Anthony?  140 

Deere.     There  Diomed  there. 

Diom.     Liues  he  :  wilt  thou  not  anfwer  man  ?  142 

125.  Scene  XI.  Pope,  Warb.     Scene  129.  falne\  F,.     fain  F  F^,   Rowe, 

XII.  Han.  Johns.  Pope,  Theob.  Warb.  faWn  Han.  Johns. 

Enter...]    Enter    Decretas   and  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  /b//nf  Cap.  et  cet. 

Guard.  Rowe  (Dercetas,  Pope).     After  134.  Nor\  NotY^. 

line  123,  Cap.  136.  Dercetus.]    Deere.    Ff.       Dec 

1 27.  /  hauf\  Fve  Pope,  + ,  Dyce  ii,  Rowe.     Der.  Pope, 

iii.  137.  thi5\  these  Han. 

127,    128.    I  haiie..,end^   One  line,  I42.  he  :'\  he?Y^, 

Han.  Cap.  et  seq.  wilt  ...  man  /]    Separate    line, 

127.  worke  ill^  F,.     work^  ill  F^F^,  Steev.  et  seq. 

Rowe  i.     work  ill^  Rowe  ii  et  seq.  man  ?'\  Om.  Han. 

129.  2  The'\  2  Guard.  The  Rowe.  [Exit  Dercetas.  Var.'78. 

124.  The  Guard,  how]  Malone  lays  stress  on  his  having  early  *  suspected'  that 
*  how '  should  here  be  printed  ho,  unmindful  or  ignorant  of  the  fact  that,  long  before, 
Theobald  had  so  printed  it  in  his  text,  and  had  been  faithfully  followed  therein  by 
his  two  beneficiaries,  Warburton  and  Johnson.  Dyce,  also,  not  a  little  emphasises 
his  own  discrimination  in  acutely  distinguishing  ho  from  *how.*  Through  two 
editions  Collier  bravely  clung  to  *how,'  but,  in  his  Third  Ed,  yielded  to  ko^  possi- 
bly in  consequence  of  Dyce's  home-question  (Strict,  p.  207)  :  *  If  Mr  Collier  did 
not  intend  to  make  Antony  "  call  the  guard,"  I  should  like  to  know  what  meaning  he 
would  have  us  attach  to  "  The  Guard ! "  The  modem  editors  who  printed  Mo  for 
•*how*'  were  evidently  right.' — Ed. 

I37»  '38.  This  sword  .  .  .  Shall  enter  me  with  him]  Surely  these  two  lines 
are  spoken  aside.  I  cannot,  however,  find  that  any  editor  has  so  printed  them. 
— Ed.  For  *  enter,'  meaning  *  to  admit  into  a  society,  etc. ;  or  into  a  condition  or 
state,'  see  N.  E.  D.  II.  17.  transitive,  b.     [The  present  line  quoted.] 

137.  this  tydings]  Again  used  as  a  singular  noun  in  <  it  is  Tydings,'  V,  i,  34. 


ACT  IV,  sc.  xiv.]    ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA 


313 


Ant.     Art  thou  there  Diomed'i 
Draw  thy  fword,  and  giue  mee, 
Suffifing  ftrokes  for  death. 

Diom.     Mod  abfolute  Lord  : 
My  Miftris  Cleopatra  fent  me  to  thee. 

Ant.     When  did  fhee  fend  thee  ? 

Diom.     Now  my  Lord. 

Anth     Where  is  fhe  ?  (feare 

Diom.  Lockt  in  her  Monument :  fhe  had  a  Prophefying 
Of  what  hath  come  to  paffe  :  for  when  fhe  faw 
(Which  neuer  fhall  be  found)  you  did  fufpeft 
She  had  difpos'd  with  Cce/ar^  and  that  your  rage 
Would  not  be  purged,  fhe  fent  you  word  fhe  was  dead  : 
But  fearing  fince  how  it  might  worke,  hath  fent 
Me  to  proclaime  the  truth,  and  I  am  come 
I  dread,  too  late. 

Ant.  Too  late  good  Dio^nedi  call  my  Guard  I  prythee. 

Dio.     What  hoa  :  the  Emperors  Guard, 
The  Guard,  what  hoa  f  Come,  your  Lord  calles. 
Enter  \.  or  ^.  of  the  Guard  of  Anthony. 

Ant.     Beare  me  good  Friends  where  Cleopatra  bides, 


143 


14s 


ISO 


155 


160 


163 


143,  144.  Art..,mee'\  One  line,  Rowe 
et  seq. 

151,  150.  yke... (feare]  Separate  line, 
Han. 

151.  had]  kad,  alas  !  Han. 

Propkefying]  Om.  Cap.  conj. 
Gar.  prophet's  Steev.  conj.  prophetic 
Words. 

153.  (  Which. ,,/ufpect]  You  did  sus- 
pecty — which  never  shall  be  found — 
Words. 

154.  difpos'd]  compos" d  Coll.  MS. 


155-  y<^^  Om.  Pope,  +  ,  Var.  '73. 

'59*  prythee]  prethee  Yi^  Rowe.  pri- 
thee Knt,  Dyce,  GIo.  Cam.  pr'ythee  Pope 
et  cet. 

160,  161.  What  hoa:  ...  what  hoa'^] 
One  line,  Pope  et  seq. 

162.  Enter...]  Ff,  Glo.  Cam.  Enter 
the  Guard.  Rowe.  Enter  a  Guard.  Johns. 
Enter  some  of  the  Guard.  Cap. 

163.  where]  were  F^. 

bides]  'bides  Johns.  Var. '73. 


151.  Lockt  .  .  .  (feare]  Abbott  (§§  505,  470)  :  It  is  difficult  to  scan  this  line 
without  making  the  latter  portion  a  verse  of  four  accents.  (Perhaps  *  L<5ck'd  in  |  her 
m6n(u)  I  ment.  Sh^'d  |  a  pr6phe  |  sying  f^ar,'  making  *  sying  *  a  monosyllable  like 
•being,*  'doing.') — [Is  this  really  scanning?  where  vowels  are  dropped,  and  the 
final  ^3  of  participles  disregarded  in  a  scamper  to  utter  the  line  in  five  feet? — Ed.] 

154.  She  had  disposM  with  Caesar]  Murray  (N.  E.  D.  s.  v.  II.  Intransitive 
senses.   7  |  b.)  :  To  settle  matters,  make  terms.     [The  present  line  quoted.] 

162.  Enter  4.  or  5.  of  the  Guard]  Collier  (ed.  i) :  The  old  stage-direction 
shows  how  many  the  theatre  (supposing  the  tragedy  to  have  been  acted,  of  which, 
though  we  can  have  no  proof,  there  can  be  little  doubt)  afforded  for  this  duty. 


y 


314 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  IV,  SC.  XT. 


'Tis  the  lad  feruice  that  I  fhall  command  you. 

I     Woe,  woe  are  we  fir,  you  may  not  liue  to  weare 
All  your  true  Followers  out 

AIL     Moft  heauy  day. 

Ant.  Nay  good  my  Fellowes,  do  not  pleafe  fharp  fate 
To  grace  it  with  your  forrowes.     Bid  that  welcome 
Which  comes  to  punifh  vs,and  we  punifh  it 
Seeming  to  beare  it  lightly.     Take  me  vp, 
I  haue  led  you  oft,  carry  me  now  good  Friends, 
And  haue  my  thankes  for  all .  Exit  bearing  Anthony 

[Scene  XK] 

Enter  Cleopatra^  and  her  Maides  aloft,  with 

Charmian  &  Iras. 


165 


170 


173 


Cleo.     Oh  Charmian,  I  will  neuer  go  from  hence. 

Char.     Be  comforted  deere  Madam. 

Cleo.     No,  I  will  not : 
All  ftrange  and  terrible  euents  are  welcome, 
But  comforts  we  difpife  ;  our  fize  of  forrow 
ProportionM  to  our  caufe,  muft  be  as  great 
As  that  which  makes  it. 

Enter  Diomed. 


5 


10 


164.  feruice]  feevice  F,. 

165.  I   Woe]  Guard.  IVoe  Rowe. 
Woe^  woe  are]    Woe!  woe  are 

Rowe.     Woe  are  Pope,  Theob.    Han. 
Warb.  Cap.  Stccv.  Var.  '03,  *I3,  Words. 

166.  Followers]  follow' rs  Pope,Theob. 
Warb.  Johns. 

172.  oft,]  oft;  Theob.  Warb.  Cap.  et 
seq. 

173.  Exit...]  Exeunt...  Ff. 

Scene    XV.    Dyce,   Sta.   Glo.   Cam. 
Act  V.  Scene  i.  Rowe.  Scene  XII.  Pope, 


Warb.    Scene  XIII.  Han.  ct  cet. 

A  magnificent  Monument.  Rowe. 
The  Battlements  of  the  Monament. 
Kenible. 

I.  Enter...]  Enter  Cleopatra,  Char- 
mian, and  Iras,  above.  Rowe.  Enter  at 
a  Window,  above,  Geopatra,  Charmian, 
and  Iras.  Cap.  Enter  above,  on  a  gal- 
lery... Wh. 

10.  Enter...]  Enter,  below...  Coll. 
Diomed.]  Diomedes.  Rowe. 


173.  Here  follows  Scene  viii,  in  Kemble's  version,  consisting  solely  of  'Mournful 
Music.  Titius  and  Guards  pass  towards  the  monument,  bearing  Anthony  on  his 
Litter.*— Ed. 

7-9.  our  size  of  sorrow  .  . .  which  makes  it]  As  Deighton  justly  remarks,  this 
sentence  is  somewhat  tautological :  '  the  size  of  our  sorrow,  when  it  is  of  the  same 
size  as  the  cause,  must  be  as  great  as  the  cause.'  Deighton's  paraphrase  adroitly  helps 
to  veil  the  tautology  :  *  the  sorrow  I  feel,  commensurate  to  the  reason  I  have  for  it, 
cannot  help  showing  itself,  with  equal  amplitude.' — Ed. 


ACT  IV.  sc.  XV.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA 


315 


How  now?  is  he  dead  ? 

Diom.     His  death's  vpon  him,  but  not  dead. 
Looke  out  o'th  other  fide  your  Monument, 
His  Guard  haue  brought  him  thither. 

Enter  Anthony ^and  the  Guard. 

Cleo.     Oh  Sunne, 
Bume  the  great  Sphere  thou  mou'ft  in,  darkling  {land 
The  varrying  fhore  o'th'world.  O  Antony j Antony j Antony 


II 


15 


18 


12,  13.  His.,. out ^  One  line,  Cap. 
12-14.  His... thither. '\  Lines  end,  otU 
,., hither.  Han. 

12.  death' si  deaths  F.Fj. 

Imt  not  ]  but  he  is  not  Ktly. 

13.  o'thl  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Wh.  Dyce  ii, 
iii.     o'the  Cap.  et  cet. 

other yide"]  other- side  Rowe  i. 
your  Monument  ]  Om.  Han.  your 
moHumenty — But  see.  Cap. 

14.  thither"]  hither  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Han.  Cap. 

15.  Enter...]  Enter  Antony,  bom  by 
the  Guard.  Rowe.  Enter,  below,  ... 
Coll. 

16.  Sunneyl  th(m  sun,  Pope,  +  ,  Steev. 
Var.  '03,  '13.     sun,  sun.  Cap.  Words. 


17.  Bume  thereat]  Turn  from  the 
Han.      Turn  from  th'  great  Warb. 

/land]  stand  on  Ktly. 

18.  The...  O  Antony,]  One  line, Johns. 
Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Sieev. 

18-20.  The ...  hither.]  Lines  end,  O 
Antony f ...  Iras ;  ...  hither.  Cap.     Lines 
end,  O  Antony  !  ...Iras,  help;  ...hither. 
Mai.  Steev.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Sing.  Dyce, 
Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Ktly,  Hal. 
18.  varrying]  varying  F^F^. 
o'th']  Ff,  Rowe.     oUhe  Cap. 
Antony,    Antony,   Anlony]    An- 
tony !  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

Antony,  Antony]  Separate  line, 
Johns.  Van.  Ran. 


12.  His  death's  .  .  .  dead]  Steevens:  The  defective  measure,  and  want  of 
respect  in  the  speaker,  induce  me  to  suppose  that  the  line  originally  stood,  *  His 
death's  upon  him,  madam,  but  not  dead.' 

14.  thither]  Dyce  (ed.  ii)  :  The  Second  Folio  has  hither ;  but  the  original  word 
agrees  well  enough  with  what  precedes. — [Is  'thither*  merely  'well  enough*  when 
it  refers  to  that  place,  away  from  the  speaker,  on  the  other  side  of  the  monument  ? 
Is  it  possible,  in  such  circumstances,  that  hither  can  be  right? — Ed.] 

17.  Bume  the  great  Sphere  thou  mou*st  in]  Heath  (p.  464)  :  According  to 
the  philosophy  which  prevailed  from  the  age  of  Aristotle  to  that  of  Shakspeare,  and 
long  since,  the  sun  was  a  planet,  and  was  whirled  round  the  earth  by  the  motion  of 
a  solid  sphere  in  which  it  was  fixed.  If  the  sun  therefore  was  to  set  fire  to  the  sphere, 
so  as  to  consume  it,  the  consequence  would  be,  that  itself,  for  want  of  support,  must 
drop  through,  and  wander  in  endless  space ;  and  in  that  case,  the  earth  would  be 
involved  in  endless  night.     [See  note  on  III,  xiii,  175.] 

18.  The  varrying  shore  o'th*  world]  War  burton  :  That  is,  of  the  earth,  where 
light  and  darkness  make  an  incessant  variation. — Staunton  (Atkenaum^  26  Apr. 
1873)  :  We  have  here  a  painful  proof  of  the  injury  which  the  change  of  a  word  can 
do  to  the  finest  jms'^ao^e.  Cleopatra's  magnificent  invocation  is  turned  into  sheer  non- 
sense by  that  miserable  misprint  *  shore.*  What  is  the  varying  shore  ?  .  .  .  Read 
•The  varying  star  o'th' world.'  The  varying  star  of  the  world,  spelt  of  old  starre, 
is,  of  course,  *  the  inconstant  moon.*  Compare,  in  this  tragedy,  *  — Alack,  our  terrene 
fnoon  Is  now  edips'd.' — III,  xiii,  183;  'now  the  fleeting  moon  No  planet  is  of  mine.' 


3i6 


THE    TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  IV,  SC  XV. 


Helpe  Charmiatiy  helpe  Iras  helpe  :  helpe  Friends 
Below,  let's  draw  him  hither. 

AnL     Peace, 
Not  Ccs/ars  Valour  hath  o'rethrowne  Anthony^ 
But  Anthoni^s  hath  Triumpht  on  it  felfe. 

Cleo.     So  it  fhould  be. 
That  none  but  Afithony  fhould  conquer  Ant/tony^ 
But  woe  ^tis  fo. 

A?iL     I  am  dying  Egypt,  d)ang ;  onely 
I  heere  importune  death  a-while,  vntill 
Of  many  thoufand  kiffes,  the  poore  laft 
I  lay  vpon  thy  lippes. 

Cleo.     I  dare  not  Deere, 


20 


25 


30 


19.  Ilelpe  Charmian,  helpe  Iras  helpe  :'\ 
Charmiarty  help  ;  help,  Iras  ;  Cap.  Steev. 
Var.  '03,  *I3.  Help,  Charmian,  help; 
Iras  help ;  Varr.  Mai.  Ran. 

19-25.  helpe  Friends  ...  conquer  An- 
thony] Lines  end,  below ! ...valour ... 
Antonyms  ...  itself.  ...  Antony  ...  conquer 
Antony.  Walker  (CnV.  iii,  310). 

20.  Below,  let's']  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Var.  '21.  Below  there,  let  us  Han.  Be- 
low; let^s  Theob.  ct  cet.  (subs.) 

23.  Anthonie'j]  Anthonie  F,.  Anthony 
FjF^,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 
it  felfe']    himself  Rowe,    Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb. 


24-26.  So...fo.'\  Lines  end,  but  Antony 
...so.  Rowe  et  seq. 

27-  Egypt,  dying]  Egypt,  dying,  dyif^ 
Steev.  conj. 

onely]    only  yet    Pope,  +  ,    Cap. 
Words. 

28.  a-while]  F,.    awhile  F^F^,  Dyce, 
Glo.  Cam.     a  while  Rowe  et  cet 

30.  lippes.  ]  lips. — Come  down.  Theob. 
Han.  Warb.  Cap. 

31,  32.  /  dare. ..dare  not'\  One  line, 
KUy. 

Deere,  Deere... not]  One  line, 
in  parenthesis,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Cap. 
(subs.) 


—V,  ii,  291.  .  .  .  But  it  is  needless,  I  believe,  to  multiply  quotations  to  demonstrate 
that  'shore'  is  an  erratum  for  star,  or  to  make  clear  that  Egypt's  queen,  in  her 
wretchedness,  calls,  like  Othello,  for  •  a  huge  eclipse  of  sun  and  moon,*  The  sense 
and  context  both  justify  the  emendation. — [Hudson  adopted  Staunton's  emendation 
in  his  text.  It  is,  indeed,  a  si>ecious  one,  and  tlie  passage  from  Othello,  which  seems 
to  be  parallel,  is  forceful.  But  we  are  not  justified  in  making  so  great  a  change, 
unless  the  original  is,  in  reality,  *  sheer  nonsense.'  I  think  all  will  agree  that  Warbur- 
ton's  explanation  is  puerile.  It  is  not  alone  the  shores  of  the  world  that  are  subjected 
to  the  *  incessant  variation  of  light  and  darkness.'  As  far  as  this  variation  is  con- 
cerned, Qeopatra  might  as  well  have  said  *  the  varying  toivns  of  the  world.*  It  was 
more  than  the  mere  shores  that  Cleopatra  wished  might  stand  darkling ;  it  was  the 
whole  world,  of  which  the  shores  were  the  limit.  And  the  image  of  the  whole  world, 
the  orbis  terrarum,  which,  possibly,  Shakespeare  had  here  in  mind,  was  the  same  as 
that,  which,  with  its  irregular  outline,  its  deeply  indented,  its  '  varying '  shore,  he  htd 
already  called  the  *  three-nook' d  MfoxXd.*  Emendation  is,  I  think,  entirely  uncalled 
for. — Ed.] 

28.  I  heere  importune  death]  Johnson  :  I  solicit  death  to  delay ;  or,  I  tromhle 
death  by  keeping  him  in  waiting. 


ACT  IV.  sc.  XV.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 


317 


Deere  my  Lord  pardon  :  I  dare  not, 

Leaft  I  be  taken  :  not  th'Imperious  fhew 

Of  the  full-Fortun'd  CcBfar^  euer  fhall 

Be  brooch'd  with  me,  if  Knife,  Drugges,  Serpents  haue 

Edge,  fting,  or  operation.     I  am  fafe : 

Your  Wife  06lauia^  with  her  modeft  eyes. 

And  ftill  Conclufion,  fhall  acquire  no  Honour 


32 


35 


38 


32.  Deere  ,,, pardon\  In  parenthesis, 
Mai.  Steev.  et  seq.  (subs.) 

pardon\  Your  pardon  that  Theob. 
Han.  Warb.  Cap.  pardon^  pardon  me 
Huds. 

dare  not^'\  dare  not;  Theob. Warb. 
dare  not  descend  Mai.  conj.  Ran.  dare 
not  eome  down  Ritson,  Words,  dare  not 
come  Elze.  dare  not  ope  the  door  Nich- 
olson ap.  Cam. 


34.  fuH-Fortun'd'\  dull/ortun'd  F^. 

35.  brooch' d'\  broach' d¥^Y^, 
mCf"]  me;  Rowe  et  seq. 
JiTm/el  Knives  Cap. 

36.  ftingy  or  operation"]  operation  or 
sting  Han. 

operation.]  operation,  Ff. 
38.   Conciufion]     condition    Coll.     ii 
(MS),     complexion  Kinnear. 
no]  Om.  FjF^. 


32.  I  dare  not]  This  is  one  of  the  lines,  enumerated  at  IV,  Tiii,  9,  which  Walker 
(Crit,  iii,  307)  says  has  lost  something  at  the  end.  The  Text.  Notes  bear  witness 
tiimt  something  has  happened.  After  devising  an  addition  (to  supply  what  is  sup- 
posed to  be  lost),  which  will  never  be  generally  accepted,  and  after  the  counting  of 
syllables  in  order  to  convert  these  impassioned  lines  into  smug  pentameters,  the  zeal- 
ous critics  must  have  retired  with  *  fingers  weary  and  worn,* — and  without  adding 
anything  toward  the  better  comprehension  of  a  line  already  adequately  clear. — Ed. 

35.  Be  brooch'd  with  me]  Murray  {N.  E,  D,)  gives  the  present  passage  as 
the  only  example  of  the  use  of  this  verb,  except  one  other  reference  of  a  date  as  late 
as  1865.  Its  meaning  is  *  to  adorn  as  with  a  brooch.'  The  substantive  <  brooch '  is 
'  the  same  as  broach,  the  difference  of  spelling  being  only  recent,  and  hardly  yet 
established.'  Its  meanings  are  *  i.  An  ornamental  fastening,  consisting  of  a  safety 
pin,  with  the  clasping  part  fashioned  into  a  ring,  boss,  or  shield,  or  other  device  of 
precious  metal  or  other  material,  artistically  wrought,  set  with  jewels,  etc.  Now  used 
mainly  as  a  (female)  ornament;  but  always  for  the  ostensible  purpose  of  fastening 
some  part  of  the  dress,  f  2.  Formerly  also  in  a  more  general  sense  ;  according  to 
Johnson  **a  jewel,  an  ornament  of  jewels.'*  In  earlier  times  applied  to  a  necklace, 
a  bracelet,  and  other  trinkets.* 

35,  36.  Knife,  Drugges,  Serpents  haue  Edge,  sting,  or  operation]  To  make 
this  *  respective  construction  *  exact,  the  order  of  the  second  line  should  run  :  *  Edge, 
operation,  or  sting,'  as  Hanmer  has  it,  but  it  does  not  run  smoothly.  In  the  reference 
to  *  serpents,'  have  we  an  anticipation  ? — Ed. 

38.  still  Conclusion]  Johnson  :  That  is,  sedate  determination ;  silent  coolness 
of  resolution. — Nares  :  From  the  character  and  state  of  mind  of  Cleopatra,  I  should 
think  she  meant  *  deep  but  secret  censure,  looking  demure  all  the  while.*  [The 
qualities  set  forth  by  Johnson]  would  not  be  called  for  by  the  occasion,  nor  would 
they  be  particularly  galling  to  Cleopatra. — Collier  (ed.  ii) :  Condition  is  a  very 
Taluable  emendation  in  the  MS  for  'conclusion.*  How  easy  it  was  to  misprint,  or 
misread  condition,  *  conclusion,'  requires  no  explanation.     The  reference  is  to  the 


3l8  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  nr,  sc.  xy. 

Demuring  vpon  me  :  but  come,  come  Anthony^ 

Helpe  me  my  women,  we  muft  draw  thee  vp  :  40 

Aflift  good  Friends. 

Ant,     Oh  quicke,  or  I  am  gone. 

Cleo.     Heere's  fport  indeede :  43 

40.  vp:'\up — Rowe,  +  .  «//Cap.  ct  43.  Heere^s  fport'\Her^ sport Qx^/\\^ 
seq.                                                                     iii   (MS).     H^s  spent  Bailey.     Here's 

41.  [Cleopatra,  and  her  Women,  throw        support  ^ing,  conj. 

out  certain  Tackle,  into  which  the  People  43,  44.    Heere^s  ,„  Lardf  One  line, 

below  put  Antony,  and  he  is  drawn  up.         Rowe  et  seq. 

Cap. 

modest  eyes  and  tranquil  temperament  of  Octavia  ;  '  conclusion '  is  not  far  from  non- 
sense. [Yet  Collier  returned  to  it  in  his  Third  Edition,'^ — Anon.  {Bla^kwood^  Oct 
1^53)  P*  4^^)  •  ^low  good  is  that  expression  <  still  conclusion' !  That  lady  of  yoors, 
looking  demurely  upon  me  with  her  modest  eyes,  and  drawing  her  quiet  inferences^ 
shall  acquire  no  honour  from  the  contrast  between  my  fate  with  her  own.  And  yet 
we  are  called  on  by  [Collier's  MS]  to  give  up  these  pregnant  words  for  the  vapid 
substitution  of  '  still  condition  !  *  This,  we  say,  is  no  fair  exchange,  but  downright 
robbery. 

39.  Demuring  vpon  me]  This  is  the  only  example  given  by  Min^RAY  {H.  £.  />.) 
of  this  verb.  He  queries  if  it  be  intransitive,  and  after  defining  it  as  <To  look 
demurely,'  gives  Johnson's  definition  :  *  to  look  with  an  affected  modesty.'  Finally, 
he  makes  a  valuable  suggestion  in  referring  to  a  certain  use  (3  b.)  of  the  verb 
*  demur,'  where  it  means  '  to  be  of  doubtful  mind  ;  to  remain  doubtful.'  This  is  cer- 
tainly worthy  of  consideration.  I  think  no  one  can  be  fully  satisfied  with  Johnson's 
definition  ;  it  negatives  the  *  modest  eyes'  which  Qeopatra  has  just  scornfully  granted 
to  Octavia.  I  think  it  would  be  more  appropriate  if  we  could  understand  '  demur- 
ing '  as  demurring,  that  is,  slightly  amplifying  the  meaning  suggested  by  Murray, 
'looking  doubtfully  askance  upon  me.* — Ed. 

43.  Heere's  sport  indeede]  Johnson  :  I  suppose  the  meaning  of  these  strange 
words  is,  here's  trifling,  yott  do  not  work  in  earnest. — M ALONE :  Perhaps  rather, 
here's  a  curious  game,  the  last  we  shall  ever  play  with  Anthony  !  Or  perhaps  she 
is  thinking  of  fishing  with  a  line,  a  diversion,  of  which,  we  have  been  already  told, 
she  was  fond.  Shakespeare  has  introduced  ludicrous  ideas  with  as  much  incongrui^ 
in  other  places. — [This  note  of  Malone  appeared  in  1790,  and  again  in  each  suc- 
ceeding Variorum  down  to  1821,  when  Boswell  omitted  it  and  substituted  the  follow- 
ing, of  his  own  :  *  She  is  contrasting  the  melancholy  task  in  which  they  are  now 
engaged  with  their  former  sports.*  Malone's  note  obtained  one  advocate  at  least,— 
see  Leo's  note,  below.] — Steevens  :  Cleopatra,  perhaps,  by  this  affected  levity,  this 
phrase  which  has  no  determined  signification,  only  wishes  to  inspire  Antony  with 
cheerfulness,  and  encourage  those  who  are  engaged  in  the  melancholy  task  of  draw- 
ing him  up  into  the  monument. — Collier  (ed.  ii)  [The  MS  by  striking  out  the  j 
changed  *  sport  *  into  port  ]  :  The  fact  seems  to  be  that  Shakespeare  used  the  word 
port  for  weighty  as  the  French  call  a  large,  heavy  ship  une  navire  de  grand  pert, 
Cleopatra,  of  course,  alludes  to  the  burden  of  Antony,  and  to  the  difficulty  of  draw- 
ing him  up. — Singer  (Sh.  Vind.  p.  297),  in  his  criticism  of  Collier's  MS  emen- 
dations,— a  criticism  so  bitter  and  personal  that  it  defeated  its  purpose  by  its  intern- 


ACT  IV.  sc.  XV.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  319 

How  heauy  weighes  my  Lord  ? 

Our  ftrength  is  all  gone  into  heauinelTe,  45 

That  makes  the  wai  ght.     Had  I  great  lunds  power, 

The  ftrong  wingM  Mercury  fhould  fetch  thee  vp, 

And  fet  thee  by  loues  fide.     Yet  come  a  little, 

Wifhers  were  euer  Fooles.     Oh  come,  come,  come,  49 

45.  heauinejfe^  heaviness ;  Knt,  Sta.  49.  FooUsJ^  foob^ —  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo. 

Cam.  Cam. 

A,T*Jlr<mg    wing'*d'\     strong-winged  come^  come^  come,"]   come,   came^ 

Pope   et  seq.     strong^ d-wing* d  Johns.  come — Rowe,  +  , 

(misprint. ) 

■ 

peiance, — sajrs  :  '  It  would  astonish  me,  and  many  more,  if  Mr  Collier  should  succeed 
in  finding  port  used  for  *<  a  load  or  weight"  in  the  whole  range  of  English  literature.' 
— Collier  (Notes,  etc.  p.  501 — a  volume  into  which  Collier  collected  all,  or  the 
chiefest,  of  the  MS  emendations)  acknowledges  the  weakness  of  port  by  the  addi- 
tional remark  that  *  we  may  not  be  able  to  point  out  any  other  instance  where  port 
signifies  in  English  a  load  or  weight.* — Anon.  (Blackwood,  Oct.  1853,  p.  468)  : 
Johnson's  note  on  this  place  is  remarkable  as  an  instance  of  want  of  judgement  in 
a  man  whose  sagacity  was  very  rarely  at  fault.  [Johnson  is  then  quoted.]  No  inter- 
pretation could  well  go  wider  of  the  mark  than  this.  Steevens  says  that  she  speaks 
with  an  '  affected  levity.'  It  would  be  truer  to  say  that  she  speaks  from  that  bitter- 
ness of  heart  which  frequently  finds  a  vent  for  itself  in  irony.  .  .  .  Even  although 
authority  could  be  found  for  [port  used  for  a  load  or  weight.  Collier's]  proposed 
reading  would  still  be  utterly  indefensible, — *  Here's  port  (i.  e.  weight)  indeed  !  how 
ktavy  weighs  my  lord ! '  This  is  as  bad  as  *  old  Goody  Blake  was  old  and  poor.' 
Singer  proposes  support,  which  we  can  by  no  means  approve  of,  as  it  seems  to  have 
no  sense. — Staunton  :  The  pathos  of  this  exclamation,  so  piteous  in  the  contrast 
it  implies  between  the  fallen  queen's  present  occupation  and  the  diversions  of  her 
happier  times,  is  quite  lost  on  Collier's  unsusceptible  commentator,  who  coolly  reads, 
*  Here's  port  indeed' ! — Hudson  :  Some  editors  have  stumbled  rather  strangely  at 
this  use  of  'sport' ;  just  as  if  it  were  not  a  common  and  a  natural  thing  for  people 
to  express  the  intensest  feeling  by  words  of  a  contrary  meaning. — Leo  (p.  143)  com- 
pares these  words  with  Cleopatra's  dreamings  in  the  old  days  when  her  bended  hook 
pierced  the  fishes'  slimy  jaws,  and,  as  she  drew  them  up,  she  would  '  think  them 
every  one  an  Anthony,  and  say  ah,  ha  !  you're  caught.' — II,  v,  19.  *  And  now '  says 
Leo,  *  in  this  cruel  hour,  those  fair,  bright  days  recur  to  her  memory,  and  it  flashes  on 
her  that  she  is  now,  indeed,  drawing  up  Anthony's  very  self,  and  in  bitter,  woeful 
jest,  she  says  to  Charmian,  *  Here's  sport  indeed  ! '  Leo,  with  his  unflinching  honesty, 
acknowledges  that  he  derived  the  first  hint  of  this  from  Malone.  but  we  know  that  it 
was  only  a  hint.  In  conformity  with  his  interpretation,  Leo  translates  *  Here's  sport 
indeed  !  *  by  *  Nun  angl'  ich  wieder ! ' — [It  would  be  temerarious,  indeed,  to  assert 
that  Leo  is  wrong.  We  all  know  how  frequent  in  Shakespeare  are  these  subtle, 
fleeting  allusions  ;  but  for  myself  I  doubt  that  Cleopatra  is  thinking  of  any  particular 
occasion,  and  agree  with  Staunton  that  in  this  piteous  cry  of  irony  and  of  agony,  we 
hear  that  all  her  laughter-loving  life  is  come  but  to  this. — Ed.] 

45.  heauinesse]  Malone  :  This  is  here  used  equivocally  for  sorrow  and  weight. 


320  THE   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  iv,  sc.  xv. 

They  heaue  Anthony  aloft  to  Cleopatra.  50 

And  welcome,  welcome.     Dye  when  thou  haft  liu'd, 
Quicken  with  kifling  :  had  my  lippes  that  power, 
Thus  would  I  weare  them  out. 

AIL     A  heauy  fight. 

Ant.     I  am  dying  Egypt,  dying.  55 

Giue  me  fome  Wine,  and  let  me  fpeake  a  little. 

Cleo.     No,  let  me  fpeake,  and  let  me  rayle  fo  hye. 
That  the  falfe  Hufwife  Fortune,  breake  her  Wheele, 
Prouok'd  by  my  offence. 

Ant.     One  word  ('fweet  Queene)  60 

Of  Ccefar  feeke  your  Honour,  with  your  fafety.       Oh. 

Cleo,     They  do  not  go  together. 

Ant.     Gentle  heare  me,  63 

50.  They...]  They  draw  Ant  up  to  58.  Hu/wife\  housewife  Mai.  Steev. 
Cleop.   Cap.  et  seq. 

51.  when\  Ff,  Rowe,  Coll.  i.     where  6l.  fafety, "]  safety —  Rowe,  +  . 
Pope  et  cct.  Oh.'\    Om.    Han.    ytm —  Warb. 

54.  A'\  C?A  Rowe,  +  .  O^.'Rowe. 

51.  Dye  when  thou  hast  liu'd]  Collier  (ed.  i)  is  the  only  editor,  since  Pbpe, 
who  ventured  to  retain  *  when '  of  the  Folio,  and  even  his  courage  deserted  him  before 
his  Second  Edition,  He  interpreted  *  Die,  when  thou  hast  liv'd '  as  meaning  *  in 
consequence  of  being  quickened,  or  restored,  by  my  kissing  thee.* 

52.  Quicken  with  kissing]  Johnson  :  That  is,  revive  by  my  kiss. 

58.  That  the  false  .  .  .  breake  her  Wheele]  Johnson  :  This  despicable  line 
has  occurred  before.  [Where  ?  The  nearest  approach  to  it  that  I  can  find  is  the 
one  suggested  by  Malone,  and  it  is  in  prose.  *  Let  us  sit  and  mock  the  good  hous- 
wife,  Fortune,  from  her  wheel,'  as  Celia  says  to  Rosalind.  Knight  quotes  Johnson 
and  then  drily  remarks,  *  There  are  not  many  such  "  despicable  *'  lines  in  /r«f/.'] — 
Staunton  :  *  Huswife  *  is  here  used  in  the  loose  sense,  which  it  often  bore,  of  hussy, 
or  harlot.  So  in  Hen.  V:  V,  i,  Pistol  asks, — *  Doth  Fortune  play  the  huswife  with 
me  now?* — [I  doubt  that  '  Huswife,'  in  Shakespeare's  days,  retained,  to  any  large 
extent,  the  idea  of  a  house-wife^  that  is,  one  who  devoted  herself  to  household  cares. 
It  was  an  opprobrious  epithet,  rather  than  a  literal  one.  Otherwise,  we  might  infor 
that  Shakespeare,  at  least  here  and  in  As  You  Like  It,  supposed  that  Fortune's  wheel 
was  a  spinning-wheel.  Possibly,  in  popular  belief  it  was  so,  owing  to  some  con- 
fusion with  Clotho's  distaff.  Fluellen,  however,  had  a  perfectly  correct  idea  of  it 
*  Fortune,'  he  says,  *  is  painted  also  with  a  wheel  to  signify  to  you  .  .  .  that  she  is  turn- 
ing, and  inconstant,  and  mutability,  and  variation  ;  and  her  foot,  look  you,  is  fixed 
upon  a  spherical  stone,  which  rolls,  and  rolls,  and  rolls.* — Hen.  V:  III,  vi,  34. 
Why  Fortune  should  have  two  similar  symbols  of  revolution,  it  is  hard  to  say.  Both 
are  found  in  early  Etruscan  times.  Possibly,  the  wheel  was  merely  an  added 
emblem  or  badge  of  the  tribe  of  Leucomones.  See  Creuzer,  Symbolih,  iii,  664, 
footnote. — Ed.] 


ACT  IV.  sc.  XV.]     ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA 


321 


None  about  Cafar  truft,  but  Proculeius. 

Cleo.     My  Refolution,  and  my  hands,  He  truft, 
None  about  Cafar. 

Ant.     The  miferable  change  now  at  my  end, 
Lament  nor  forrow  at :  but  pleafe  your  thoughts 
In  feeding  them  with  thofe  my  former  Fortunes 
Wherein  I  liued.     The  greateft  Prince  o^thVorld, 
The  Nobleft  :  and  do  now  not  bafely  dye. 
Not  Cowardly  put  off  my  Helmet  to 
My  Countreyman.   A  Roman,  by  a  Roman 
Valiantly  vanquifliM.     Now  my  Spirit  is  going, 
I  can  no  more. 

Cleo.     Nobleft  of  men,  woo^t  dye  ? 


6s 


70 


75 


64.  /nj/?,]  trust:  Pope  ii. 

65.  truft t"]  trust;  Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 
Mai.  Steev.  et  seq. 

70.  liuid.  The']  lived.  The  F.F,.  liv'd. 
The  F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  liy'd;  the  Han. 
Cap.  Var.  '21.  In/'d  the  Theob.  Warb. 
Johns.  Sing.  KUy.  /ivV,  the  Var.  '78  et 
cet. 

71.  Nobleft  :  and  do  now  nof]  noblest 
cnce  ;  and  do  now  not  Rowe  i.  noblest 
once  ;  and  now  not  Rowe  ii,  Pope,  Han. 
molest  once ;  and  do  not  now  Theob. 
Warb. 

now'\  Om.  FjF^. 

72.  Not   Cowardly\    Not   Cowardly^ 


F^.  Nor  cowardly^'Rowt,  Nor  cowardly 
Pope,  + ,  Knt,  Coll.  ii,  Dyce  ii,  iii.  Nor 
cowardly ;  Var.  '78,  '85,  Ran.  Steev. 
Varr.  Sing. 

72.  pui  of]  put  of  Fj.  but  doff  SU. 
conj. 

Helmet  to]  helmet ;  to  Cap. 

73.  Countreyman, "]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope. 
countryman:  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Mai. 
Coll.  ii.     countryman^  Johns,  et  cet. 

75.  more."]  more —  Rowe,  +  . 
[Antony  dies.  Rowe.    sinks.  Cap. 

76.  menf"]  men —  Rowe. 
woo^t"]  wou^t  Cap. 
dye  /]  die,  F^. 


67,  etc.  The  miserable  change,  etc.]  Corson  (p.  313)  :  Antony,  in  regard  to 
himself,  reposes  overmuch,  for  our  full  sympathy,  upon  his  past — [If  a  man  is  ever 
to  be  pardoned  for  being  self-centred,  surely  it  is  when  he  is  dying ;  and  Anthony 
needed  the  memory  of  every  shred  of  his  former  greatness  wherewith  to  obscure  the 
ignominy  of  his  present  death. — Ed.] 

74.  Spirit]  To  modern  ears,  Walker's  monosyllabic  pronunciation  of  'Spirit,' 
wonld  be  here  intolerable.  See  I,  ii,  143 ;  and  also  line  109  of  the  present  scene. 
—Ed. 

76,  etc.  Noblest  of  men,  etc.]  Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  150)  :  Cleopatra's  speech,  after 
Antony  has  expired  in  her  arms,  I  have  always  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  wonder- 
ful in  Shakspeare.  Cleopatra  is  not  a  woman  to  grieve  silently.  The  contrast 
between  the  violence  of  her  passions  and  the  weakness  of  her  sex,  between  her 
legal  grandeur  and  her  excess  of  misery,  her  impetuous,  unavailing  struggles  with 
the  fearful  destiny  which  has  compassed  her,  and  the  mixture  of  wild  impatience 
and  pathos  in  her  agony,  are  really  magnificent.  She  faints  on  the  body  of  Antony, 
and  is  recalled  to  life  by  the  cries  of  her  women. 

76.  woo't  dye]  For  *woo't,'  see  IV,  ii,  11. 
ai 


322  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  iv,  sc  xt. 

Haft  thou  no  care  of  me,  (hall  I  abide  77 

In  this  dull  world,  which  in  thy  abfence  is 

No  better  then  a  Stye  ?  Oh  fee  my  women  : 

The  Crowne  o'th'earth  doth  melt.     My  Lord  ?  80 

Oh  withered  is  the  Garland  of  the  Warre, 

The  Souldiers  pole  is  falne  :  young  Boyes  and  Gyrles 

Are  leuell  now  with  men  :  The  oddes  is  gone, 

And  there  is  nothing  left  remarkeable 

Beneath  the  Nifiting  Moone.  85 

Char.     Oh  quietnefte.  Lady. 

Iras.     She's  dead  too,  our  Soueraigne. 

Char.     Lad>\ 

Iras.     Madam. 

Char.     Oh  l^dam.  Madam,  Madam.  90 

Iras.     Ro}^  £g>T^  •  Emfveile. 

77.  Mr.]  Mr/  Rove  ct  seq.  S7.  3ktx\  ¥%  Rove,  Pope.  Thcob. 

79.   [AbL  dies.  Qm^  IHce,  Sta.  G3o.         WailiL  Joins.  Cam.     She  is  Mjbi.  Cape 


Sa  Mr  LsrJfl  Mr  Ss^^':—  Rove.  9QL    Ifarfw,  Mm^mm^  MmdMmL\  Umd- 


Sx  Siml&en\  sti&t^s  IVipe.  91.  E^yfi  S\  j£gyfc!  Rove. 

f62me\    F,.     fA2m   F^F^   Rove.  ^i^tngfr.]  Is  sepnate  five, 

JmJTm  IVfK,-^,  Ci^  V»t.  IHce,  Sta.  ferral  Opu  Kdr.     Is 

Cas.     fMSm  MaL  <f  cet.*  Emf^rssf  Steer.  Vair 

Ss.  [Slie  kiMs.  R«ve.  IHce*  Wk.  Sta. 
S6l  tfmtemgfi^  faasmrfe  F,. 


$0.  ytj  Ijord]  Waixsil  (Cnc*.  £,  144)  :  Rcftd,  «Mt  lonl!  m^  iW^.'*     Svciy 
1^  rqetitkai  s  rrcssred. 

Sa.  Sooldaen  poSe]  Ji.'«?Q)OCC :  He  aft  v^obb  ^e  soldias  pciaCed,  as  H  a 
Vesld  b^:^  ix  cih!icrra:6acL — Bos^vn^:  TW  pole,  I  lif^aiAf  tiA,  is  tke 
DdgrTv^'  :  Tbe  wo9>d  *  marlaztd  ^  a  1^  |jBtvkm  Bus  etideuli  si^s'ested  &e  vonl 
*  pci^^'  Shjikes^ieaae  vas^  limitds^  of  93se  viQa{^  iiesriibes  n  vkkii  a  pole,  tibe  ceaftnl 
poiiA  «f  dM'  Sfvirsss  is  doc3ce^  viidi  ^v^an^  of  £c»verL  Tbcse  laaj  be  also  &e  idea 
«f  a  <xm^»rDratf  sn&rk  Tcumi  vinc^  ?^  seu^ers  mxglB  ttJlx.  «s  la  Cerial^mmSy  V,  m, 
7^  *  Jdua  t\»<«  iiur$8  .  .  .  sk^  r  'die  vars^  L.^  a  ^rcati  sea-^ozk,  staiKfin^  evcfy 
Aav^  Aiyd  s&xis)^  i^«>*e  liua  c^  i^v^e  !  ^^[DeisbiaB  aafte  alio  bave  said  duit  the 
(«rl«Dd(«d  viTm^  jviilc-  jq^^fKac^  possibih-^  tbe  "bovs  aai  ^pa^^ — Eix] 

%.  TSse  oflftei  is  suae]  Than  -&,  dseoe  is »:<v  »o  looker  azj  ^aSen 
yMida  a3>d  -i^^v^  >i^  AXtc  ki^r,  rict  ma^  poor. — ^Eix 

S#.  remaotesAkk]  XTaixtk.  ^  4>xr.  m.  31c : :  Tbe  vcad  suD  idanied  ks 
V^pcal  inrce.     X^fi-rahir:  wtrr^hi  tr  ms^ — STJbrisTCSs:  Is  SfcaVr  sjiraie' 
^  iMtd  '*Tt*maa^jihU '  Vne  -t  isr  mnre  imjnts^vt  ani  a^ywjytiate  iDeaixnig  tkaa 
iridi  Its.     "h  Tbrx.  trpreswic  sfC  mtsreH-  Ms^siaia  «r  mtiirwtmSkjf^  bat  ssmagAin^  pR>- 


ACT  IV,  sc.  XV.]     ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  323 

Char^     Peace,  peace,  Iras.  92 

Cleo.     No  more  but  in  a  Woman,  and  commanded 

By  fuch  poo  re  pafTion,  as  the  Maid  that  Milkes, 

And  doe^s  the  meaneft  chares.     It  were  for  me,  95 

92.  Char.  Peace... \x2k%.'\  Char.  Peace            93.  more  but  in  a"]  Ff,  Johns,     more 

,,./ns.  Warb.  Om.  Words.  ^«/  a  mere  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Han. 

92,  93.  Char.  Peace, „C[to.  No"}  Qco.         Warb.     more — du/  e'en  a  Johns,  conj. 

Peace, ..No  Han.  Cap.  ct  cct.  (subs.) 

92.  [seeing  her  recover.  Cap.  94.  paJlfion'\  possums  Cap.  conj.  Var. 

93,  94,  Mnemonic,  Pope.  '73. 
93-108.  Mnemonic,  Warb. 

92.  Peace,  peace,  Iras]  Warburton  :  Cleopatra  is  fallen  into  a  swoon ;  her 
maids  endeavour  to  recover  her  by  invoking  her  by  her  several  titles.  At  length, 
Charmian  says  to  the  other,  '  Peace,  peace,  Iras  * ;  on  which  Qeopatra  comes  to  her- 
self, and  replies  to  these  last  words,  *  No,  you  are  mistaken,  I  am  a  mere  woman  like 
yourself.'  Thus  stands  this  senseless  dialogue.  But  Shakespeare  never  wrote  it  so. 
We  must  observe  then,  that  the  two  women  call  her  by  her  several  titles,  to  see 
which  best  pleased  her;  and  this  was  highly  in  character;  the  Ancients  thought, 
that  not  only  men,  but  Gods  too,  had  some  names  which,  above  others,  they  much 
delighted  in,  and  would  soonest  answer  to ;  as  we  may  see  by  the  hymns  of  Orpheus, 
Homer,  and  Callimachus.  The  Poet,  conforming  to  this  notion,  makes  the  maids 
say,  Sovereign  Lady,  Madam,  Royal  Egypt,  Empress.  And  now  we  come  to  the 
place  in  question :  Charmian,  when  she  saw  that  none  of  these  titles  had  their  effect, 
invokes  her  by  a  still  more  flattering  one  :  '  Peace,  peace,  Isis  !  *  for  so  it  should  be 
read  and  pointed  :  1.  e.  peace,  we  can  never  move  her  by  these  titles :  Let  us  give 
her  her  favourite  name  of  the  Goddess  Isis.  And  now  Cleopatra's  answer  becomes 
pertinent  and  fine  :  '  No  more  but  a  mere  woman,'  etc.  f.  e.  I  now  see  the  folly  of 
assuning  to  myself  those  flattering  titles  of  divinity.  My  misfortunes,  and  my  impo- 
tence in  bearing  them,  convince  me  I  am  a  mere  woman  and  subject  to  all  the  passions 
of  the  meanest  of  my  s|>ecies.  Here  the  Poet  has  followed  history  exactly,  and  what 
b  more,  his  author  Plutarch,  who  says,  that  Cleopatra  assumed  the  habit  and  attributes 
of  that  Goddess,  and  gave  judgements,  or  rather  oracles  to  her  people  under  the  quality 
of  the  New  Isis. — ^Johnson:  Of  this  [foregoing  note]  it  may  be  truly  said,  that  it 
at  least  deserves  to  be  right,  nor  can  he,  that  shall  question  the  justness  of  the  emen- 
dation, refuse  his  esteem  to  the  ingenuity  and  learning  with  which  it  is  proposed.  I 
suppose,  however,  that  we  may  justly  change  the  ancient  copy  thus,  '  No  more,  but 
^en  a  woman.'  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  she  speaks  abruptly,  not  answering  her 
woman,  but  discoursing  with  her  own  thoughts  :  *■  No  more — but  ^ en  a  woman.  I 
have  no  more  of  my  wonted  greatness,  but  am  even  a  woman,  on  the  level  with  other 
women  ;  were  I  what  I  once  was,  it  were  for  me  to  throw  my  scepter,'  etc.  *  Peace, 
peace,  Iras,'  is  said  by  Charmian,  when  she  sees  the  Queen  recovering,  and  thinks 
speech  troublesome. 

95.  meanest  chares]  Murray  (iV.  E,  D.  s,  v.  Chare,  sb}^  :  II.  Extant  sense. 
5.  especially  :  An  occasional  turn  of  work,  an  odd  job,  especially  of  household  work  ; 
hence  in  plural  the  household  work  of  a  domestic  servant.  (The  reg^ular  phrase  in 
the  U.  S.  where  the  word  has  the  form  Chore, )  [The  present  passage  is  given  as 
an  example.] 


324 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  IV,  SC.  XV. 


To  throw  my  Scepter  at  the  iniurious  Gods, 

To  tell  them  that  this  World  did  equall  theyrs, 

Till  they  had  ftolne  our  lewell.     All's  but  naught  : 

Patience  is  fottifh,  and  impatience  does 

Become  a  Dogge  that's  mad  :  Then  is  it  fmne, 

To  rufli  into  the  fecret  houfe  of  death, 

Ere  death  dare  come  to  vs.     How  do  you  Women  / 

What,  what  good  cheere  ?   Why  how  now  Chamnan  ? 

My  Noble  Gyrles  ?  Ah  Women,  women  !  Looke 

Our  Lampe  is  fpent,  it's  out.     Good  firs,  take  heart, 


96 


100 


105 


96.  Scepter]  sceptre  Knt  et  scq. 

the  iniurious]  thHnjuriaus  Pope, 
+  . 

^^Jiolne]  F,.  Jtoln  F^F^,  Rowe. 
stoirn  Pope,  +  ,  Cap.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo. 
Cam.  (subs.)     stolen  Var.  '73  ct  cet 

naught]  nought  F^,  Rowe,  Pope, 
Han.  Ran.  Sta. 

102.  vs.]  us?  Ff. 

103.  IVhat^  what  good  cheere?]  Ff, 


Rowe,  Pope.  IVhat,  vthat^  good  cheer  ! 
Theob.  Warb.  IVhat  ?  what  ? good  cheer  ! 
Han.  What^  what.  Good  cheer  !  Johns. 
Whaty  what  ?  Good  cheer  /  Cap.  et  cet. 
(subs.) 

104.  Gyrles  ?]  girls  !  Cap.  et  seq. 

105.  Good Jirs, ,., heart,]  Good  sirs,... 
heart: —  [to  the  Guard  below.  MaL 
Steev.  Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Sing. 


95>  96,  etc.  It  were  for  me.  To  throw,  etc.]  Hudson  :  Cleopatra  has  been  used  to 
think  herself  and  Antony  so  nearly  equal  with  the  gods,  that  the  latter  have  no  right 
to  shut  down  so  sternly  upon  them. — [I  do  not  understand  the  passage  in  exactly  this 
sense.  I  think  that,  possibly,  Cleopatra's  meaning  is,  that  before  the  unjust  gods  bad 
stolen  her  jewel,  this  world  equaled  theirs,  and  her  own  emblem  of  sovereignty  was  as 
potent  a  symbol  as  any  they  wielded,  but  now  that  her  jewel  is  gone,  it  is  befitting 
in  her  to  fling  her  sceptre  at  them  to  let  them  know  how  little  she  now  esteems  it, 
and  how  much  she  despises  them. — Ed.] 

99,  100.  impatience  does  Become  a  Dogge,  etc]  It  is,  perhaps,  superfluous 
to  remark  that  this  does  not  mean  that  impatience  turns  into  a  dog,  but  that  impatience 
is  befitting  only  in  a  dog  that's  mad. — Ed. 

103,  104.  What,  what  good  cheere  ?  . . .  My  Noble  Gyrles]  This  attempt  at 
cheerfulness,  the  very  last  flickering  of  her  sunny  nature  before  it  dies  down  for  ever 
is,  it  seems  to  me,  exquisitely  pathetic.  Under  its  influence  she  calls  Iras  and 
Charmian  'girls,'  as  her  joyous  companions  of  aforetime.  But  her  woe  and  deso- 
lation overmaster  her,  and  she  again  calls  them  *  Women,  women.' — Ed. 

105.  Good  sirs,  take  heart]  Dyce:  Here  to  these  words  is  usually  added  a 
stage-direction  [first  added  by  Malone]  *  To  the  Guard  below '  /  but  by  *  sirs '  Qeo- 
patra  means  Charmian  and  Iras : — in  V,  ii,  she  says,  '  Sirrah  Iras,  go.'  That  in 
former  days  women  were  frequently  so  addressed,  is  proved  by  numerous  passages 
of  our  old  writers:  e.g.  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Coxcomb,  IV,  iii,  the  Mother 
says  to  Viola,  Nan,  and  Madge,  '  Sirs,  to  your  tasks,  and  show  this  little  novice 
How  to  bestir  herself,'  etc. ;  and  presently  after,  Nan  and  Madge  call  each  other 

*  Sirrah.*     Again,  in  A  King  and  no  King,  by  the  same  dramatists,  II,  i,  we  find, 

*  Spaconia.    I  do  beseech  you,  madam,  send  away  Your  other  women,  and  receive 


JiCT  V,  sc.  i.]  ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 


325 


WeeT  bury  him  :  And  then,  what's  braue,  what's  Noble, 

Let's  doo't  after  the  high  Roman  fafhion, 

And  make  death  proud  to  take  vs.     Come,away, 

This  cafe  of  that  huge  Spirit  now  is  cold. 

Ah  Women,  Women  !  Come,  we  haue  no  Friend 

But  Refolution,and  the  breefeft  end. 

Exeunt^  bearing  of  Anthonies  body. 


106 


IIO 


112 


\A£lus  Quintus.    Scene  /.] 


Enter  Ca/ar ^ Agrippa j Dollabella y  MenaSyWith 

his  Counfell  of  Warre. 

C(Bfar.     Go  to  him  Dollabellay  bid  him  yeeld. 
Being  fo  fruftrate,  tell  him, 
He  mockes  the  pawfes  that  he  makes. 


5 


106.  what's  Noble,'\  what  Noble,  F^Fj. 

107.  dooU^  F,.    dot  FjF^,  Rowe.    do 
it  Pope  et  seq. 

XI2.  Exeunt...]  Exeunt;  those  above 
bearing  off  the  Body.  Cap. 

Scene  VII.  Rowe.     Act  V,  Scene  i. 
Fogeet  seq. 

Caesar's  Camp.  Rowe. 

I.  Menas]  Mecsenas,  Gall  us,   Theob. 
Mecsenas,  Proculeius,  Callus,    Han. 

1,  2.  with.. .Wane.]  Om.  Rowe.    and 
Train.  Theob. 


4, 5.  Being. „makes,'\  Lines  end,  mocks 
...makes.  Han.  Cap.  Var.  '78,  '85,  Dyce, 
Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  Lines  end, 
by... makes.  Mai.  Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Knt, 
Sing.  Ktly.     us... makes  Coll.  ii,  iii. 

4.  frujirate']  fruftate  F^.  frustrated 
Cap.  Var.  '78,  '85. 

5.  He  mockes"]  he  but  mocks  Han.  he 
mocks  us  by  Mai.  Ran.  Steev.  Varr.  Knt, 
Coll.  i,  iii.  Sing.  Ktly.  thcU  he  mocks 
us  By  Coll.  ii. 


from  me  A  few  sad  words,  which,  set  against  your  joys,  May  make  'em  shine  the 
more.     Panthea,    Sirs^  leave  me  all.  [Exeunt  Waiting*women.' 

X.  Menas]  Theobald  (ed.  ii) :  Menas  and  Menecrates,  we  may  remember,  were 
two  famous  pirates,  linked  with  Sextus  Pompeius,  and  who  assisted  him  to  infest  the 
Italian  coast.  We  nowhere  learn  expressly,  in  the  play,  that  Menas  ever  attached 
himself  to  Octavius's  party.  Notwithstanding,  the  Ff  concur  in  marking  the  entrance 
thns,  yet,  in  the  two  places  in  the  scene,  where  this  character  speaks,  they  have 
marked  in  the  margin,  Mec,  so  that,  as  Dr  Thirlby  [Nichols,  Jllust.  ii,  228]  sagaciously 
conjectured,  we  must  cashier  '  Menas '  and  substitute  Meccenas  in  his  room.  [This 
change  has  been  since  then  uniformly  adopted.] 

4,  5.  Being  so  frustrate,  tell  bim,  He  mockes  the  pawses,  etc.]  Steevens 
{  Variorum  of  1 778)  :  •  He  mocks  the  pauses  that  he  makes*  means  that  he  plays 
wmntonly  with  the  intervals  of  time  which  he  should  improve  to  his  own  preservation. 
Or  the  meaning  may  be, — being  thus  defeated  in  all  his  efforts,  and  left  without 
resource,  tell  him  that  these  affected  pauses  and  delays  of  his  in  yielding  himself  up 
to  me,  are  mere  idle  mockery.     *  He  mocks  the  pauses  *  may  be  a  hcentious  mode 


326  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v,  sc.  L 

[4,  5.  Being  so  frustrate,  tell  him,  etc.] 
of  expression  for, — he  makes  a  mockery  of  m  by  these  pauses;  u  e,  he  trifles  with  us. 
— In  the  Variorum  of  1785,  Malonb  expressed  the  belief  that  the  defect  in  metre 
proved  that  some  words  had  been  omitted  which  would  have  rendered  the  line 
intelligible.  <  When  Antony  himself  made  these  pauses,  would  he  mock,*  Malone 
asks,  <  or  laugh  at  them  ?  and  what  is  the  meaning  of  mocking  a  pause  f '  He  there- 
fore conjectured  that  us  by  were  the  omitted  words,  and  in  his  own  later  edition,  in 
1790,  thus  prints  the  line :  '  Being  so  frustrate,  tell  him,  he  mocks  us  by  The  pauses,' 
etc.  In  this  same  edition  of  1790  Malone  rather  disingenuously  conveys  the 
impression  that  the  note  by  Steevens  (quoted  above),  had  been  written  after  the  line 
had  been  rendered  intelligible  by  the  emendation  us  by,  I  have,  therefore,  dated 
Steevens*  s  note  to  show  that  it  was  written  before  Malone  had,  in  his  own  estimation, 
amended  the  line.  In  Steevens' s  edition  of  1793  appeared  the  following  additional 
note  by  him : — I  have  left  Malone's  emendation  in  the  text ;  though,  to  complete 
the  measure,  we  might  read, — <  frustrate^,*  or  '  Being  so  frustrate,  tell  him  (hat  he 
mocks/  etc. ;  as  I  am  well  convinced  we  are  not  yet  acquainted  with  the  full  and 
exact  meaning  of  the  verb  mock^  as  sometimes  employed  by  Shakespeare.  [From 
Collier  (ed.  ii)  we  learn  that  this  change,  suggested  by  Steevens, '  tell  him  that^  is 
also  given  by  the  MS.  Collier  thereupon  remarks]  :  The  expression  to  mock  pctuses 
is  far  from  intelligible  ;  and  it  seems  pretty  certain  that  the  old  printer  made  some  con- 
fusion between  'mocks '  and  makes^  words  so  much  alike  in  old  MSS.  Malone  added 
us  by,  and  they  appear  necessary  in  order  to  render  the  sense  clear ;  at  all  events 
that  object  has  been  obtained,  and  the  regularity  of  the  verse  preserved. — RiTSOK 
(Cursory  Crit.  p.  ^') :  The  two  last  words  \^us  by*"]  of  this  line  are  added  by  the 
present  Irish  editor,  who  observes  that  '  the  defect  of  the  metre/  of  which  he  knows 
as  much  as  a  superannuated  jack-ass,  '  shows  that  something  was  omitted.*  Former 
editors  [see  Text.  Notes'\  supplied  the  measure  by  reading, '  Being  so  fru5trat^</,  tell 
him  he  mocks  * ;  which ,  it  must  be  confessed,  does  not  afford  an  easy  sense.  Shake- 
speare, however,  would  never  have  written  the  above  hobbling  line  [Malone's] 
which  has  no  sort  of  pretensions  to  metre.  We  may  read,  <  Being  so  frustrated,  he 
mocks  us  by.' — [Knight  reluctantly  approves  of  Malone's  emendation,  and  prints 
it  in  brackets  in  his  text.  R.  G.  White  (ed.  i)  approves  but  does  not  adopL  Hux>- 
SON  approves  heartily  and  adopts,  and  does  '  not  see  how  it  is  possible  to  strain  any 
sense  at  all  out  of  the  original  reading.'  For  my  part,  I  think  Steevens  supplies  us 
with  a  sense  when  he  says,  in  effect,  that  Anthony's  pauses,  now  that  he  is  utterij 
vanquished,  are  a  mockery. — Ed. 

4.  frustrate]  Abbott  (§  342)  gives  a  list  of  verbs,  ending  in  -te,  -/,  and  •i/, 
which  <on  account  of  their  already  resembling  participles  in  their  terminations,  do  not 
add  -ed  in  the  participle.  .  .  .  Words  like  ** miscreate,"  "create,**  ** consecrate" 
[<  frustrate ']  being  directly  derived  from  Latin  participles,  stand  on  a  different  foot- 
ing, and  may  themselves  be  regarded  as  participial  adjectives,  with  the  addition  of  -</.' 
Walker  (  Vers.  8)  includes  the  present  <  frustrate '  in  his  list  of  words  illustrating  the 
rule  that,  'Words  such  2iS  Juggler ,  tickling,  kindling,  England,  angry,  children,  and 
the  like  are, — as  is  well  known, — frequently  pronounced  by  the  Elizabethan  poets  as 
though  a  vowel  were  interposed  between  the  liquid  and  the  preceding  mute.*  Of  the 
present  line,  he  asks,  <  Can  a  good  sense  be  made  out  of  the  original  reading  ?  the 
play  of  words  seems  a  very  strong  argument  in  its  favour ;  indeed,  it  seems  impossible 
that  this  should  be  accidental.  So — though  it  seems  hardly  worth  while  to  accumu- 
late instances  of  the  same  word  used  in  the  same  manner, — Massinger,  Middleton, 


Jicr  V,  sc.  i.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


327 


DoL     Cce/ary  I  fhall. 

Enter  Deer  etas  with  the  /ward  of  Anthony. 

Ccef.    Wherefore  is  that?  And  what  art  thou  that  dar^ft 
Appeare  thus  to  vs? 

Dec.     I  am  callM  Deer  etas  ^ 
Marke  Anthony  I  feru'd,  who  bed  was  worthie 
Beft  to  be  feruM  :  whil'ft  he  ftood  vp,  and  fpoke 
He  was  my  Mafter,  and  I  wore  my  life 
To  fpend  vpon  his  haters.     If  thou  pleafe 
To  take  me  to  thee,  as  I  was  to  him, 
He  be  to  Ccefar  :  if  y  pleafeft  not,  I  yeild  thee  vp  my  life. 

Ccefar.     What  is't  thou  fa/ft  ? 

Dec.     I  fay  (Oh  Ccefar)  Anthony  is  dead. 

Ccefar.    The  breaking  of  fo  great  a  thing,  fhould  make 
A  greater  cracke.     The  round  World 


10 


15 


20 


6.  [Exit  Dolabella.  Theob.  et  seq. 

7,  10  etc.  Dccretas]  Ff,  Rowe.    Der- 
ceUs  Pope  et  seq. 

15.  thee^  thee ;  Rowe. 
as  l\as  I  asY^, 

16.  y\  thou  Ff. 

I,,Jife,'\  Separate  line,  F^  et  seq. 
yeild^  yield  Y^^. 

17.  fay/f^/ayffl  F^,  Rowe. 
20-22.  yf...  Anthony]  Lines  end,  j>i^>( 

...  Cf/»««w...^«/^«y  Tbeob.Warb.  Johns. 
Ran.  Ktly,  Coll.  iii.  Lines  end,  shook 
...  streets^ ...  Antony  Mai.   Steev.  Varr. 


Coll.  i,  Wh.  Hal. 

20.  cracke.'\   crack  in  nature,  Han. 
Cap. 

cracke.  The  round  World  ]  crack  ; 
The  round  world  convulsive  Sing.  conj. 
crack  in  the  round  world  Daniel,  crack  : 
and  the  rebounding  world  Bulloch. 
crack:  the  drowned  world  Sprenger. 
crack  :  the  round  world  so  bereft  Words. 
crack  :  the  round  uproared  world  Huds. 
crack  :  the  round  world  in  rending  Nich- 
olson ap.  Cam.  crack:  the  ruincUed 
world  L.  Campbell  ap.  Cam. 


and  Rowleys  Old  Law  :  *  The  law  that  should  take  away  your  old  wife  from  you, 
...  Is  void  and  frustrate ;  so  for  the  rest : '  etc.  [Massinger's  fVorks,  vol.  iv,  p.  568, 
ed.  Gifford,  1805.]  *  What  we  confirm  the  king  will  frustrate.'  Marlowe's  Edward 
II., —  Works,  p.  178,  cd.  Dyce,  1858. 

6.  I  shall]  Theobald  :  I  make  no  doubt  but  it  should  be  marked  here  that  Dolla- 
bella  goes  out  'Tis  reasonable  to  imagine  he  should  presently  depart  upon  Caesar's 
command ;  so  that  the  speeches  placed  to  him  in  the  sequel  of  this  scene,  must  be 
transferred  to  Ag^rippa,  or  he  is  introduced  as  a  mute.  Besides,  that  DoUabella 
should  be  gone  out,  appears  from  this,  that  when  Csesar  asks  for  him,  he  recollects 
that  he  had  sent  him  on  business.  [For  this  use  of  *  shall '  for  will,  both  here  and 
in  line  82,  below,  see,  if  need  be,  Abbott,  §  315.] 

9.  Appeare  thus  to  vs]  Steevens  :  That  is,  with  a  drawn  and  bloody  sword  in 
thy  hand. 

13.  I  wore  my  life]  Deighton  :  The  figure  is  that  of  a  dress  worn  for  some 
special  purpose,  and  also  conveys  the  idea  that  to  him  life  was  as  something  external 
which  could  be  put  off  at  will,  not  an  essential  part  of  his  being. 

ao,  21.  A  greater  cracke.   The  round  World  Should  haue  shooke  Lyons 


328  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act.v,  sc.  i. 

Should  haue  fhooke  Lyons  into  ciuill  ftreets,  21 

And  Cittizens  to  their  dennes.     The  death  oi  Anthony 
Is  not  a  fingle  doome,  in  the  name  lay 
A  moity  of  the  world. 

Dec.     He  is  dead  Cafar^  2$ 

Not  by  a  publike  minifter  of  luftice, 
Nor  by  a  hyred  Knife,  but  that  felfe-hand 
Which  writ  his  Honor  in  the  A£ls  it  did, 
Hath  with  the  Courage  which  the  heart  did  lend  it, 
Splitted  the  heart.     This  is  his  Sword,  30 

22.  /<7]i»/(>Thcob.Warb.  Johns.  Ran.  30.  Splitted  the  Aeart,}    SpliUed  the 
Ktly.                                                                    heart  itself  Han.  Cap.     SpHt  that  self 

23.  the'\  that  Popc,  +  ,  Cap.  Var.  '73.         noble  heart  Coll.  ii  (MS).     Splitted  the 
27.  ICnifet'\  knife  :  Rowe  ct  seq.  heart.  Casar,  or  Splitted  that  very  heart. 

felfe-hand '\  self  hand  Cap.  Var.         Elzc. 
'78  ct  seq. 

into  ciuill  streets]  Johnson  :  I  think  here  is  a  line  lost,  after  which  it  is  in  vain  to 
go  in  quest.  The  sense  seems  to  have  been  this  :  *  The  round  world  should  have 
shook/  and  this  great  alteration  of  the  system  of  things  should  send  '  lions  into 
streets,  and  citizens  into  dens.'  There  is  sense  still,  but  it  is  harsh  and  violent. — 
Steevens:  I  believe  we  should  read,  *A  greater  crack  than  this:  The  ruin'd 
world,'  f.  e.  the  general  disruption  of  elements  should  have  shook^  etc.  Shakespeare 
seems  to  mean  that  the  death  of  so  great  a  man  ought  to  have  produced  effects 
similar  to  those  which  might  have  been  expected  from  the  dissolution  of  the  universe, 
when  all  distinctions  shall  be  lost.  Perhaps,  however,  Shakespeare  might  mean 
nothing  more  here  than  merely  an  earthquake,  in  which  the  shaking  of  the  round 
world  was  to  be  so  violent  as  to  toss  the  inhabitants  of  woods  into  cities  and  the 
inhabitants  of  cities  into  woods. — M alone  :  The  defect  of  the  metre  strongly  sup- 
ports Dr  Johnson's  conjecture,  that  something  is  lost.  Perhaps  the  passage  origin* 
ally  stood  thus  :  <  The  round  world  should  have  shook ;  Thrown  hungry  lions  into 
civil  streets,'  etc.  .  .  .  The  words  omitted  were  perhaps  in  the  middle  of  the  line, 
which  originally  might  have  stood  thus  in  the  MS :  '  Lions  been  hurtled  into  civil 
streets,'  etc. — Tyrwhitt:  The  sense,  I  think,  is  complete  and  plain,  if  we  consider 
*  shook '  (more  properly  shaken)  as  the  participle  past  of  a  verb  active, — [That  there 
is  here  an  omission  is  also  the  opinion  of  Collier,  Dyce,  R.  G.  White,  Staunton, 
Deighton,  Rolfe,  and  of  Walker  (see  IV,  viii,  9).  But  as  the  meaning  is  per- 
fectly clear,  and  forcibly  expressed,  for  my  part,  the  tears  live  in  an  onion  that  shall 
water  the  sorrow  for  any  loss. — Ed.] 

27.  selfe-hand]  See  Abbott,  §  20. 

30.  Splitted  the  heart]  Collier  (ed.  ii)  :  This  line  cannot  be  right,  for  although 
<  splitted '  might  be  allowed  on  the  score  of  <  splitted  in  the  midst,'  and  *  splitted  my 
poor  tongue*  in  the  Comedy  of  Errors^  yet  the  line  is  otherwise  defective,  and  the 
MS  gives  it  *  Split  that  self  noble  heart  This  is  his  sword,*  which  we  cannot  but 
persuade  ourselves  is  right,  seeing  that  just  above  we  have  *  that  self-hand  *  in  the 
same  way  that  we  have  '  self  noble  heart  *  in  the  line  in  question  as  amended.     The 


ACT  V,  sc.  i.]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 


329 


I  robbM  his  wound  of  it  :  behold  it  ftainM 
With  his  mod  Noble  blood. 

Ccb/.     Looke  you  fad  Friends, 
The  Gods  rebuke  me,  but  it  is  Tydings 
To  wafli  the  eyes  of  Kings. 

DoL     And  ftrange  it  is. 
That  Nature  muft  compell  vs  to  lament 
Our  moft  perfifted  deeds. 

Mec,  His  taints  and  Honours,  wag'd  equal  with  him. 


31 


35 


39 


31.  wcum/']  Morf a/ wound  Vfordsu 

33.  you  fad  Friends y'\  F^.  yoUyfad 
friends^  F^F^,  Rowc,  Pope,  you  sad, 
friends^  Theob.  et  cet. 

34.  it  is  Tydings"]  it  tidings  is  Ktly. 
Tydings"]  a  Tydings  F,.     a  Tid- 
ings F,F^, Cap. Var.  '78,  '85,  Ran.  Steev. 
Var.  *03,  *  13,  Dycc  ii,  iii,  Coll.  iii.     a 
tiding  Rowc,  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

36,  40.  Do!.]  Agr.  Theob.  et  seq. 

37.  mu/i  compell]  most  compels  Sta. 


conj.  {AtAen,  26  Apr.  1873.) 
39»43-  Mec]  Men.  F^F^,  Rowe,Pope. 
39.  ivag'd]  Knt,  Dyce,  Sta.  way 
Fj.  may  F^F^.  weighed  Rowe,  Pope, 
Theob.  Han.Warb.  Cap.  Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS). 
wagged  Anon,  (Gent.  Mag,  1 790,  Ix,  p. 
126.)     UMX^^^  Johns,  et  cet. 

wa^d,.,him]  Separate  line,  Pope 
et  seq. 

with  Aim.]  in  Aim,  Rowe,  +  . 


change  adds  much  force  and  grace  to  the  tribute  Dercetas  is  paying  to  his  dead, 
master. 

33.  Looke  you  sad  Friends]  Theobald  :  It  is  requisite  to  transpose  the  comma 
[after  '  you  '  in  Pope's  edition,  and  place  it  after  <  sad  * ;  because]  Octavius's  friends 
would  probably  avoid  showing  any  concern  on  the  news  of  Antony's  death,  lest  it 
should  give  displeasure  to  Cxsar ;  which  Csesar  observing,  it  shows  a  noble  humanity 
in  him  to  bid  them  share  in  such  a  sorrow,  and  to  tell  them  it  is  a  calamity  that  ought 
to  draw  tears  even  from  the  eyes  of  Princes.  Young  Prince  Henry,  upon  his  father's 
death,  speaks  just  in  the  same  manner  to  his  brothers  ;  and  tho'  he  would  not  have 
them  mix  fear  with  their  affliction,  he  encourages  them  in  their  sorrow — '  Yet  be  sad, 
good  brothers.  For,  by  my  faith,  it  very  well  becomes  you.' — 2  Hen.  IV:  V,  ii,  49. 

34.  but  it  is  Tydings]  Johnson  :  That  is,  may  the  gods  rebuke  me,  if  iAis  be 
not  tidings  to  make  kings  weep.  *  But '  again,  for  if  not.  [Johnson  probably  here 
refers  to  III,  xi,  50,  which  see,  and  also  IV,  xi,  2.  *  Tidings '  has  already  been  used 
as  a  singular  noun  in  *this  tidings*  IV,  xiv,  137  ;  which  justifies  those  editors  who 
prefer  the  reading  of  F^,  if  they  need  any  justification.— Ed.] 

35.  To  wash  the  eyes  of  Kings]  Craik  (p.  194)  :  *  Wash,*  an  Anglo-Saxon 
word  (preserved  also  in  the  German  wascAen)^  is  used  in  what  is  probably  its  primi- 
tive sense  of  immersing  in  or  covering  with  liquid.  Thus  we  say  to  wasA  with  gold 
or  silver. 

36.  Dol.  And,  etc.]  Daniel  (p.  83)  :  I  would  continue  this  speech  to  Caesar, 
and,  in  line  38,  for  *  perfifted*  would  read,  pcrfited. — Hudson  accepted  this  dis- 
tribution of  speeches;  'surely,'  he  says,  'this  speech  comes  more  fitly  from  Caesar' 
[than  from  Agrippa,  to  whom  it  had  been  assigned  by  Theobald]. 

39.  wag'd  equal  with  him]  Steevfns  :  It  is  not  easy  to  determine  the  precise 
meaning  of  the  word  wage.     In  OtAello,  it  occurs  again :    *  To  wake,  and  wage  a 


330  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  v.  sc  i. 

Lhta^     A  Rarer  fpirit  neoer  40 

Did  ftcere  humanity'  :  but  you  Gods  will  giac  vs 
Some  &ults  to  make  vs  men.     Qzfar  is  toach*d. 

JAnr.     Wlien  luch  a  fpacious  Mirror^s  fet  before  Yaaiy 
He  needes  mull  fee  faim  felie. 

C^far^   Oh  Amthmjy  45 

I  haue  followed  thee  to  this^  but  we  do  I^pnrh 
Dtieaies  in  our  Bodies.     I  murl  perforce 
Haue  tbewTK  to  thee  fuch  a  declfnfng  dzv% 
Or  looke  oa  thine  :  we  could  not  fell  together. 
In  the  whole  world.     But  yet  let  me  lamienc  50 


4^  4"  ftOKrT  /*7r  R?ce. ^.  E^cs  lu  oL         Fope;.  HiiiL     mmci 
Man  *  CciL  "^^  4a.   ^«sr^  uaarx 


tdn^tr  TBQodffiB..^    ^  iu  5^*.  of  :&:$  «L*  with.  antsT^     Ir 

TW  sense  wol  i&aL  ':hs»  "  ic^  smus  jm£  luouurs  mm^  m  tsoxaL  Tmnrfi/  £  e. 

JL  Onti^  ^5^-"   ''iiiiis  3sr  n^mos  ^&QUPe£  Ti  iie  »  ^aaat.  de 

^B«iiQ«^  v^r  ±.  — TA:^  vsmmaas^  :ias  Tusann^  rbxsR  is-  Ime  n 

^wyi.  :£  ^«Kt  «S99t  9«|.'r  It  t&f  :3ense  it  ifiamam^. 

'•X^  ^«s^jr  i^«ii»c  Ar  «initi9>^  it  tois  -wr'    HL  3^  xm  .     Ir  »  n 

jCfhrihsmr  lew  jo^iIb-w.  JMrrar-  2eatr    irr^irrfmm  .szl  3IIi£ 

«.   ^«(itt:"  ?<ir  :nis  ««  ^  -  -m^^  ivsonia:  ifejwrrr    |  «^ 
Sir  ^fu  -««?  H.  *.  "•'i 

#^.  :^itH:"  ?^-fr  ^&s  Tnammizattufi;.  lesc  x  ns^rTlnaie^  assr  I.  i^  \jQ^ 

tftit  4uv*tmt^  «ni  «  ^aU.   iie  "^m^jsr  -xrmaxaesmimu  n:  TatLs^     SUlju-  m^««ns  )■&  «f 
.'imntj^ft^  3hr  ,rtiii&«^  it~  nuuhsik  wmsi:  *tt«7  ivns  riifhraiW  s.  satrap  11JIJ&.     **  I 

^  ic^l*4!l»Qmi;9mr.     llir^  lum^^iitf  rmtfir  tit:  mcr -gsasvaatat^  ^i&  xmxi.  saaateL 

^|r  «t  ^pQ^r  ts  7v»h;r,  tt-  ine  '^^   tmk.  two  -l  lattr.  iT  ^umaeF  ►.  As 

"Whu^  t   mlvaw«^^4»  ^nte^  ^mt  wc  ^iincs^    ^  lao^vs^  taws  XOL  tjK  tim.  ms^  -mt  ^  \m  ow 

<^i«n  tvcrtmr  "Si^H^c^     !I  )«*•«;  «BP«(r««3'i:  iac^  wlgp  tm=r  onK  smTic  ^  «^-'MiTt*      I 

^  «lh!«)liliil||:  41185"  >«*(  ^Ti,  ^ti*  5^ 


ACT  V,  sc.  i.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA 


331 


With  teares  as  Soueraigne  as  the  blood  of  hearts^ 
That  thou  my  Brother,  my  Competitor, 
In  top  of  all  defigne  ;  my  Mate  in  Empire, 
Friend  and  Companion  in  the  front  of  Warre, 
The  Arme  of  mine  owne  Body,  and  the  Heart 
Where  mine  Jiis  thoughts  did  kindle;  that  our  Starres 
Vnreconciliable,  (hould  diuide  our  equalneffe  to  this. 
Heare  me  good  Friends, 
But  I  will  tell  you  at  fome  meeter  Seafon, 
The  bufmefle  of  this  man  lookes  out  of  him, 
Wee^l  heare  him  what  he  fayes. 

Enter  an  Egyptian, 
Whence  are  you  ? 

^gyp*     A  poore  Egyptian  yet,  the  Queen  my  miftris 


51 


55 


60 


64 


51.  Soueraigne\  Saver  agin  F^. 
53.  defigne  ;'\  design^  Rowe  ct  seq. 

56.  his\  its  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 
kindle;']  kindle,--  Cap.  Var. '78 

et  seq. 

57.  Vnreconciliable'\     unreconcilable 
F  .     unreconcileable  F^. 

diuide"]  have  divided  Pope,  Tbeob. 
Warb,  Johns. 

57.  58.  our,.. Friends y]  One  line,  Pope 
et  seq. 

58.  Friends^]  friends —  Han.  Johns, 
et  seq.  (subs.) 

59.  Seafon y]    Ff,    Johns,      season — 
Rowe,  Pope,     season.  Theob.  et  cet. 

61-63.  lVee'l...you^']  One  line,  Rowe 


et  seq. 

62.  Enter...]  Ff.  After ^w?  line  63, 
Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  After 
Friendsy  line  58,  Wh.  Sta.  Cam.  After 
Seafon^  line  59,  Johns,  et  cet. 

i^gyptian.]  Messenger.  Cap.  Mai. 
Var. '21,  Knt. 

63.  Whence]  Now  whence  Han. 
Whence y  and  who  Steev.  conj. 

you  /]  youy  sir  ?  Cap.  you  f 
What  ?  Walker. 

64.  yet]  Om.  Cap. 

yety  the]  Ff,  Rowe  i.  yet;  the 
Rowe  ii,  -^ ,  Varr.  Ran.  yet.  The  Theob. 
Mai.  et  seq. 


52.  Competitor]  That  is,  colleague.     See  I,  i,  21  ;  I,  iv,  5. 

53.  In  top  of  all  designe]  That  is,  in  all  our  highest  ambitions. 

56.  his  thoughts]  The  use  of  its  had  not  yet  become  universal ;  else  it  would 
liave  been  used  here.     In  introducing  it  Pope  ran  a  little  before  the  years. 

57.  should  diuide  our  equalnesse  to  this]  Johnson  :  That  is,  should  have  made 
OS,  in  our  equality  of  fortune,  disagree  to  a  pitch  like  this,  that  one  of  us  must  die. 

61.  heare  him  what  he  sayes]  For  other  examples  of  a  redundant  object,  see 
Abbott,  5  4*4- 

64.  Egyptian  yet,]  Johnson  :  If  this  punctuation  be  right  [Theobald's],  the 
man  means  to  say  that  he  is  yet  an  ^Egyptian,  that  is,  *  yet  a  servant  of  the  Queen 
of  B^gypt,*  though  soon  to  become  a  subject  of  Rome. — Staunton  :  *  Yet,*  that  is, 
merw. — Deighton  :  Perhaps  the  meaning  is  '  one  who,  though  conquered,  still  boasts 
himself  an  Eg^yptian.' — ^John  Hunter:  I  apprehend  Cleopatra  to  be  the  'poor 
Egyptian,'  and  that  the  line  should  be  written  thus:  '  A  poor  Egyptian,  yet  the  queen 
ID  J  mistress ' ;  where  '  yet '  means  Imt  not  Uss. — [I  think  that  there  is  much  more  to 


332 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  V,  sc.  i. 


ConfinM  in  all,  (lie  has  her  Monument 

Of  thy  intents,  defires,  inftru6lion, 

That  fhe  preparedly  may  frame  her  felfe 

To'thVay  (hee^s  forc'd  too. 

Cafar.     Bid  her  haue  good  heart, 

She  foone  Ihall  know  of  vs,  by  fome  of  ours, 

How  honourable,  and  how  kindely  Wee 

Determine  for  her.  For  Ccefar  cannot  leaue  to  be  vngentle 
^gypt.     So  the  Gods  preferue  thee.  Exit, 

Ccef.     Come  hither  Proculeius.     Go  and  fay 

We  purpofe  her  no  (hame  :  giue  her  what  comforts 

The  quality  of  her  paffion  (hall  require  ; 

Leaft  in  her  greatnefle,  by  fome  mortall  ftroke 

She  do  defeate  vs.     For  her  life  in  Rome, 

Would  be  etemall  in  our  Triumph  :  Go, 

And  with  your  fpeedieft  bring  vs  what  fhe  fayes. 


65 


70 


75 


80 


65.  tf//y  ,..M&nument'\  allsht  haSy  her 
Monument y  Rowe  et  seq. 

66.  intents y  defires y'\  Ff,  Rowe  i.  in- 
teniSy  desires  Rowe  ii.  intents  desires 
Pope  et  seq. 

68.  too.^  F,. 

7 1 .  honaurabW^  honourably  Pope,  + , 
Cap.  Van.  Ran.  Wh.  ii. 

kindely\  kindly  Ff. 

72.  Determine"]  Determin*  d have  Ca.'p. 
For"]  Om.  Words. 

leaue... vngentle']¥{y'Ro'w^\.  leave 


to  be  gentle,  (as  one  line)  Cap.  learn  to 
be  ungentle.  Tyrwhitt,  Dyce,  Words,  live 
to  be  ungentle.  Rowe  ii  et  cet 

72.  to  be  tmgentW]  Separate  line,  Pope 
et  seq. 

vngentle"]  Ff.    ungentle.  Rowe  et 
seq. 

73.  So]   Om.  Rowe  ii.     May  Pope, 
Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

77.  Leafi]  F,.     Lejl  F.F^. 
79.  eternall  in]  eternaJling  Thirlby, 
Han.  Cap. 


be  said  in  favour  of  this  interpretation  than  against  it.  It  sounds  very  like  a  propitia- 
tory message  such  as  Cleopatra,  on  this  occasion,  would  send  ;  and  accords  with  the 
assertion  that  the  Monument  is  now  all  that  she  p>ossesses.  Moreover,  Caesar's  ques- 
tion is  *lVhence  tLTcyoM?*  not  *W4^areyou?* — this  almost  necessitates  Hunter's 
interpretation. — Ed.] 

71.  How  honourable]  See  < 'Tis  noble  spoken/  II,  ii,  115.  It  may  be,  how- 
ever, that  the  termination  -ly,  attached  to  *  kindly,'  is  supposed  to  be  effective  for 
'honourable'  also.  See  Walker  (Crit.  i,  218),  or  Abbott  (§  397),  or  Schmidt 
(Lex.  p.  I419,  6). 

72.  Cssar  cannot  leaue]  Collier  (ed.  i) :  This  was  altered  to  live  by  Southeniy 
in  his  copy  of  F^.  He  anticipated  Pope  [Rowe,  ed.  ii]  in  a  change,  which,  if  not 
made,  would  directly  contradict  the  poet's  meaning. — Dyce  :  I  adopt  the  correction 
made  by  Tyrwhitt  in  his  copy  of  F,  in  the  British  Museum. 

78,  79.  her  life  in  Rome,  Would  be  etemall,  etc.]  Johnson  :  'The  sense  is, 
*  If  she  dies  here,  she  will  be  forgotten,  but  if  I  send  her  in  triumph  to  Rome,  her 
memory  and  my  glory  will  be  eternal.' 


ACTV.  sciL]        AXTHOXy   A\D   CLEOPATRA  333 

And  how  yoa  findc  of  her.  Si 

/V».     Og/ar  I  flialL  Ext  Plnoniams. 

QbJ.     GoUms,  go  jxMi  along  :  mba€s  DolaidLu,  to  le- 
cond  ProcmUiats'> 

M.    DoLMbcOA.  SS 

Caf.     Let  him  alooe  :  for  I  remember  now 
How  bee's  imployd  :  be  (hall  in  time  be  ready. 
Go  with  me  to  my  Tent,  where  you  (ball  fee 
How  hardly  I  was  drawne  into  this  Wane, 
How  cabne  and  gentle  I  proceeded  ftill  90 

In  all  my  Writings.     Go  with  me,  and  fee 
What  I  can  (hew  in  this.  Exnmt,  92 

[Scene  //.] 

Enter  CUopatra^  Charmaan^  IraSy  and  Mardiam. 

Cleo.     My  defolation  does  begin  to  make 
A  better  life  :  lis  paltry  to  be  Ca/ar  : 
Not  being  Fortune,  bee's  but  Fortunes  knaue, 
A  minifter  of  her  will  :  and  it  is  g^eat  5 

To  do  that  thing  that  ends  all  other  deeds, 

81.  you]  yarn  F^  88.  7>it/,]  trmt;  Cap.  et  seq. 

Zy.aUng:]    aUmg ;  [Exit    Ganns.            Scene  VIII.  Rowc     Scene  II.  Fbpe 

Hmn.  et  seq.  et  seq. 

83, 84.  tojecomd  Piocnleiiis]  Separate  The  Monument  Rowe. 

line.  Pope  et  seq.  i.  and  Mardian.]  Mardian,  and  Se> 

85.  All.]   Agr.   Mec  Mai.  et  seq.         leocos.  Rowe.     Om.  Cap.  et  seq. 

(except  Coll.)  6.  deeds,]  deeds  ;  TheoK  et  seq. 

81.  yoo  fiade  of  her]  For  other  examples,  where '  of  means  cotuemimg^  aicmt^ 
Me  Abbott,  {  174,  or  Fkaxz,  {  364,  or  I,  iv,  81. 

1.  Enter  Cleopatra,  etc.]  Dyce  (ed.  ii)  :  When  the  plaj  was  originallr  acted, 
they  all  entered  here  (as  in  scene  xv.  of  the  preceding  act)  on  what  was  called  the 
upper-stage ;  hut  how  the  hosiness  of  the  present  scene  was  managed  after  the  seixure 
of  Qeopatra,  I  cannot  pretend  to  determine. 

2,  3.  My  desolation  .  .  .  better  life]  Words,  as  significant  as  they  are  pathetic 
— Ed. 

4.  Fortnnes  knaue]  Johnson  :  That  is,  the  serrant  of  fortune. 

6-9.  To  do  that  thing  .  .  .  and  Caesars]  Wa&burton  :  The  action  of  suicide 
is  here  said  to  shackle  accidents ;  to  bolt  up  change  ;  to  be  the  beggar*s  nurse  and 
Caesar's.  So  far  the  description  is  intelligible.  But  when  it  is  said  that  it  sleeps  and 
never  palates  more  the  dung,  we  find  neither  sense  nor  propriety :  which  is  occasioned 
by  the  loss  of  a  whole  line  between  the  third  and  fourth,  and  the  corrupt  reading  of 


334 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  V,  sc.  iL 


Which  fhackles  accedents,  and  bolts  vp  change; 
Which  fleepes,  and  neuer  pallates  more  the  dung, 
The  beggers  Nurfe,  and  Ca/ars. 


7.  accedents"]  accidents  Ff.     accident 
Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

change;"]  change,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han. 

8.  Which  ...  dung]  ( IVhich  ...  dugg:) 
Warb. 

8,  9.  Which...The]  IVhich  makes  us 
sleep  f  nor  palate  more  the  dug  OUh^  Han. 

8.  pallates]  pallats  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope. 
palates  Theob. 

dung]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  ii, 
Johns.  Cap.  Varr.  Mai.  Ran.  Sleev.  Varr. 


Knt,  Coll.  Del.  Sing.  Wh.  i,  KUy, 
Cowden-Clarke,  Huds.  Rife,  Irving. 
dugg  Warb.  Theob.  i.  dug  Han.  Djrce, 
Coll.  ii,  iii  (MS),  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Hunter, 
Din,  Wh.  ii.  wrong  Cartwright  tongue 
B.  Nicholson  {N,  &*  Qu,  III,  vii,  395, 
1865). 

8,  9.  dung  ...  Nurse]  doom  ...  curse 
Bailey. 

9.  7^]  Of  the  Ktly  conj. 

9,  20,  57.  beggers]  beggar's  F^F^. 


the  last  word  in  the  fourth.  We  should  read  the  passage  thus :  *  And  it  is  great  To 
do  the  thing  that  ends  all  other  deeds;  Which  shackles  accidents,  and  bolts  up 
change  ;  [Lulls  wearied  nature  to  a  sound  repose  ;]  Which  sleeps,  and  never  palates 
more  the  dugg:  The  beggar's  nurse  and  Caesar's.'  That  this  line  in  hooks  was  the 
substance  of  that  lost,  is  evident  from  its  making  sense  of  all  the  rest :  which  are  to 
this  effect.  *  It  is  great  to  do  that  which  frees  us  from  all  the  accidents  of  humanity, 
lulls  our  over- wearied  nature  to  repose  ( which  now  sleeps  and  has  no  more  appetite 
for  worldly  enjoyments),  and  is  equally  the  nurse  of  Caesar  and  the  beggar.' — Seward 
(Note  on  The  False  One,  IV,  ii,  p.  139)  :  When  we  speak  in  contempt  of  anything, 
we  generally  resolve  it  into  its  first  principles :  Thus,  man  is  dust  and  ashes,  and 
the  food  we  eat,  the  dung,  by  which  first  our  vegetable,  and  from  thence  our  animal, 
food  is  nourished.  Thus  Cleopatra  finding  she  can  no  longer  riot  in  the  pleasures 
of  life,  with  the  usual  workings  of  a  disappointed  pride,  pretends  a  disgust  to  them, 
and  speaks  in  praise  of  suicide  [as  in  the  present  lines].  From  the  observations 
above,  nothing  can  be  clearer  than  this  passage :  <  both  the  b^gar  and  Caesar  are 
fed  and  nursed  by  the  dung  of  the  earth.'  Of  this  sense  there  is  a  demonstration  in 
[I,  i,  48]. — Heath  (p.  466)  :  That  is,  which  sleeps,  and  hath  no  further  relish  for 
the  trash  and  dung  of  this  earth,  which  dung  is  equally  necessary  to  the  support  of 
Caesar,  as  of  the  meanest  beggar.  In  what  sense  Warburton  could  understand  death 
to  be  equally  the  nurse  of  Caesar  and  the  beggar,  or  indeed  to  be  the  nurse  of  either, 
is  inconceivable. — Capell  (i,  49) :  The  sentiment  in  line  8  is  not  unlike  one  in  I, 
i,  48,  and  the  expressions  which  that  is  couch'd  in,  shew  plainly  what  'dung'  means 
in  this  line,  viz. — the  earth,  and  it's  dungy  productions  ;  and  to  mark  her  contempt 
of  them,  and  of  Qesar  too  at  the  same  time,  she  calls  them — the  nourses  or  nourishers 
both  of  him  and  the  beggar. — ^Johnson  :  The  difficulty  of  the  passage,  if  any  difficulty 
there  be,  arises  only  from  this,  that  the  act  of  suicide,  and  the  state  which  is  the  effect 
of  suicide,  are  confounded.  Voluntary  death,  says  she,  is  an  act  which  bolts  up 
change;  it  produces  a  state,  *  Which  sleeps,  and  never  palates  more  the  dung.  The 
beggar's  nurse  and  Caesar's.'  Which  has  no  longer  need  of  the  gross  and  terrene 
sustenance,  in  the  use  of  which  Caesar  and  the  beggar  are  on  a  level.  The  speech 
is  abrupt,  but  perturbation  in  such  a  state  is  surely  natural. — Boswell:  *The  beg> 
gar*s  nurse  and  Caesar's'  means,  I  apprehend,  'death '  (as  Warburton  has  observed), 
and  not,  as  Johnson  supposed,  the  gross  substance  on  which  Caesar  and  the  beggmr 
were  fed. — [Knight  agrees  with  Boswell  that  the  'beggar's  nurse  is,  unquestionably. 


ACTV.  sc.  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  335 

Enter  Proculeiu^.  10 

Pro.     Ca/ar  fends  greeting  to  the  Queene  of  Egypt, 

10.  Enter...]  Enter... and  Gallus  be-        Soldiers,  at  the  Door  of  the  Monument, 
low.   Han.      Enter... and  Gallus,  with        without.  Cap. 

death.'] — Collier  (ed.  ii) :  This  [dug]  is  an  admirable,  though  merely  literal 
emendation  in  the  MS.  What  Cleopatra  says  is,  that  self-destruction  prevents  all 
change,  and  no  longer  requires,  or  *  palates '  the  dug,  which  affords  nutriment  to  all 
mankind,  whether  high  or  low. — Dyce  (ed.  ii) :  To  me  the  word  <  nurse '  is  almost 
alone  sufficient  evidence  that  *  dung*  is  a  transcriber's  or  printer's  mistake  for  dug, — 
which  was  the  more  liable  to  be  corrupted,  as  it  was  formerly  often  spelt  dugge  (so  the 
folio  has,  in  Rom.  &*Jul.  I,  iii,  *  on  the  nipple  of  my  Dugge ' ).  The  sense  I  conceive 
to  be, '  and  never  more  palates  that  dug  which  affords  nourishment  as  well  to  the  beg- 
gar as  to  Caesar.' — Anon.  (Blackwood^  Oct.  1853,  P*  4^)  •  The  sense  probably  is, 
— '  It  is  great  to  do  the  thing  (suicide)  which  causes  us  to  sleep,  and  never  more  to 
taste  the  produce  of  the  earth,  which  nourishes  alike  Caesar  and  the  beggar.  The 
MS  correction  [Warburton's]  certainly  does  not  mend  matters.  This  reading  affords 
no  extrication  of  the  construction,  <  which  sleeps,'  which  we  have  ventured  to  explain 
as  *  which  hys  us  asleep,  and  causes  us  never  more  to  palate  or  taste,'  etc. — R.  G. 
White  (ed.  i) :  As  I  am  unable  to  discern  what  is  the  dug  which  is  'the  beggar's 
nurse  and  Caesar's,'  and  as  the  word  in  the  text  is  expressive  of  the  speaker's  bitter 
disgust  of  life,  I  make  no  change. — Staunton  :  '  Dung'  for  dug  is  an  obvious  mis- 
print, though  not  wanting  defenders. — Hudson  :  <  Nurse '  appears  to  be  used  here 
for  nourishnunt.  Cleopatra  is  speaking  contemptuously  of  this  life,  as  if  anything 
that  depends  upon  such  coarse,  vulgar  feeding  were  not  worth  keeping.  But  Cleopatra 
has  ix^ytT  palated  the  dug  since  she  was  a  baby  ;  and  the  sense  of  the  passage  clearly 
requires  some  contemptuous  word  for  the  common  supports  of  human  life,  as  such, — 
the  food  she  has  to  palate  every  day. — Deighton  :  That  is,  which  produces  a  state 
in  which  one  sleeps  a  lasting  sleep  and  has  no  need  to  taste  the  dug  by  which  poor 
and  rich,  great  and  small,  are  nourished,  i,  e.  no  need  of  the  sustenance  of  life.  .  .  . 
There  seems  a  considerable  difference  between  speaking  of  the  earth  as  fertilized  by 
manure  into  furnishing  food,  and  a  human  being  feeding  on  dung. — Irving  Edition  : 
It  seems  more  natural  to  suppose  that  the  word  *  dung '  is  simply  a  p>eriphrasis  for  the 
fruits  of  the  fertilizing  earth,  used,  certainly  in  a  spirit  of  bitter  mockery  and  supreme 
contempt. — Thiselton  (p.  25)  :  A  reminiscence  of  Anthony's  words  in  I,  i,  48. 
Nowhere  are  such  reminiscences  used  with  more  effect  than  in  the  close  of  this  trag- 
edy where  they  suggest  the  integrity  of  Cleopatra's  attachment  to  Anthony.  Shake- 
speare meant  us  to  leave  Cleopatra,  notwithstanding  her  failings,  with  feelings  of 
sympathy  and  admiration,  and  that  our  last  thoughts  should  be  of  <  the  glory  of  her 
womanhood.' — [There  is  a  strength  in  the  very  coarseness  of  the  word  *dung' 
which,  to  me,  strongly  commends  it.  Only  a  poet,  strong  in  his  own  strength,  and 
conscious  of  his  own  supremacy,  and  *  nearness  to  the  eternal  verities,'  would  have 
dared  to  use  it.  This  elemental  vigour  is,  to  me,  wholly  lacking  in  Warburton's 
substitution.  Surely  it  does  not  need  either  natural  death  or  suicide  to  cause  us  to 
cease  from  palating  the  dug.  The  palating  of  it  ceases  with  weaning.  It  is  while 
we  palate  it,  before  we  are  weaned,  that  an  aversion  to  it  can  be  created.  When  we 
cease  to  have  any  love  for  it,  death  can  then  produce  no  aversion.  In  order,  there- 
fore, to  change  love  for  the  dug  into  indifference  to  it,  should  not  suicide  be  restricted 
to  babes  at  the  breast? — Ed.] 


336 


THE   TRACE  DIE  OF 


[act  V,  sa  iL 


And  bids  thee  fhidy  on  what  &ire  demands 
Thou  mean'ft  to  haue  him  grant  thee. 

Cleo.    What's  thy  name  ? 

Pro.     My  name  is  Proculeius. 

Cleo.    Anthony 
Did  tell  me  of  you,  bad  me  truft  you,  but 
I  do  not  greatly  care  to  be  deceiuM 
That  haue  no  vfe  for  trufting.     If  your  I  Mailer 
Would  haue  a  Queece  his  begger,  you  mud  tell  him. 
That  Maieily  to  keepe  decorum^  mud  | 
No  lefle  begge  then  a  Kingdome  :  If  he  pleafe 
To  giue  me  conquered  Egypt  for  my  Sonne, 
He  giues  me  fo  much  of  mine  owne,  as  J 
Will  kneele  to  him  with  thankes. 

Pro.     Be  of  good  cheere  : 
Y'are  falne  into  a  Princely  hand,  feare  nothing. 
Make  your  full  reference  freely  to  my  Lord, 
Who  is  fo  full  of  Grace,  that  it  flowes  ouer 
On  all  that  neede.     Let  me  report  to  him 
Your  fweet  dependacie,  and  you  (hall  finde 
A  Conqueror  that  will  pray  in  ayde  for  kindnefle. 


12 


IS 


20 


25 


30 


32 


14,   16,  34.    Qeo.]   Geo.   [within.] 
Mai.  Steer.  Varr.  Knt,  Sing.  Ktly. 

14.  thy\  the  F^. 

15.  My\  May  F,. 

1 7.  bad  ]  bade  Theob.  ii,  Warb.  Johns. 
Var.  *73  ct  seq. 

20.  Queece]  F,. 

21.  decomm]  Ff,  Rowe,  +  .    decorum 
Cap. 

24.  or  /]  and  I  M.  Mason. 

25.  kneeW]  kneel  for  Han. 
thankes\  thanks  for  Cap.  conj. 


Ktly. 

27.  Vare]  Ff,  Sing.Wh.  KUy.  You're 
Rowe,  + ,  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  You  are 
Cap.  et  cet. 

faine"]  F,.  fain  F^F^,  Rowe, 
Pope.  faJ*n  Theob. +  ,  Cap.  D^,  Sta. 
Gla  Cam.    fallen  Var.  '73  et  ceL 

28.  reference"]  reverence  Words. 

29.  fo]  Om.  F  F^. 

31.  dependaci/]  F,. 

32.  pray  in]  pray^  in  Pope,  Theob. 
1. 


17-19.  but  I  do  not  greatly  ...  for  trusting]  Hudson:  Qeopatra  is  exceed- 
ingly shrewd  and  artful  in  this  :  To  throw  Proculeius  off  his  guard,  she  gives  him 
to  understand  that  she  is  pretty  much  indifferent  whether  he  be  true  or  not.  That  is 
just  the  thing  to  make  Cxsar  feel  sure  of  having  her  at  his  command,  and  so  he  will 
be  less  secret  as  to  his  purpose,  or  what  he  means  to  do  with  her ;  which  is  what  she 
most  of  all  desires  to  learn. 

32.  that  will  pray  in  ayde  for  kindnesse]  Hanmer  :  '  Praying  in  aid '  is  a  term 
used  for  a  petition  made  in  a  court  of  justice  for  the  calling  in  of  help  from  another 
that  hath  an  interest  in  the  cause  in  question. — Capell  (i,  49) :  This  means, — who 
is  even  ready  to  pray  those  to  accept  of  his  kindness  and  grace,  who  ask  it  sub- 


ACTV,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA 

Where  he  for  grace  is  kneel'd  too. 

Cleo.     Pray  you  tell  him, 
I  am  his  Fortunes  Vaflall,  and  I  fend  him 
The  Greatnefle  he  has  got.     I  hourely  leame 
A  Doflrine  of  Obedience,  and  would  gladly 
Looke  him  i'th'Faqe. 

Pro.     This  He  report  ( deere  Lady) 
Haue  comfort,  for  I  know  your  plight  is  pittied 
Of  him  that  causM  it. 

Pro.     You  fee  how  eafily  fhe  may  be  furpriz'd 


337 
33 

35 


40 


42 


33.  too\  F..     to  FjF^. 

35.  fend  Aim']  bend  to  Han. 

38.  x'M']  VtheOm^.  et  scq. 

41,  42.  caused  it.  Pro.  You\  caw^d  it. 
Fare  you  well. —  [Aside.]  Hark  Callus  ! 

You   Cap.     caused   it,    [Aside.]     Y&u 
Johns.  Van. 

42.  [Here  Gallus,  and  Guard,  ascend 
the  Monument  by  a  Ladder,  and  enter 
at  a  back-window.  Theob.  Warb.  Johns. 
Here  Proculeius,  and  two  of  the  guard, 
ascend  the  Monument  by  a  Ladder  placed 
against  a  window,  and  having  descended, 
come  behind   Qeopatra.  Some  of  the 


guard  unbar  and  open  the  gates.  Mai. 
et  seq.  (subs.)  ...the  gates,  discovering 
the  lower  room  of  the  Monument. 
Cowden-CIarke. 

42.  Pro.  Kw]  Gal.  [Aside  to  Pro.] 
You  Cowden-CIarke. 

42,  43.  Pro.  You,../urprv^d :  Cuard 
...come."]  Char.  You„,furprii^ d :  Cuard 
,,,come.  Ff,  Rowe.  Char.  You  ...sur- 
prised. Pro.  Cuard.  „come.  Pope.  Gall. 
You  , , .  surprise  d.  Pro.  Cuard , . .  come. 
Theob.  Han.  Warb.  [Aside.]  Cap,  Var. 
'78,  '85.  Gall.  You.,.surprv^d,  Cuard 
...Come,  Mai.  et  cet. 


missively. — Hudson  :  The  meaning  is,  when  you  sue  to  him  for  mercy,  as  to  a 
superior,  he  will  sue  for  your  kindness  as  an  ally,  and  as  having  an  interest  in  com- 
mon with  him. 

35 f  36.  I  send  him  The  Greatnesse  he  has  got]  Capell  (i,  49)  :  Homage 
of  great  people  to  persons  greater  than  them,  was  (and  still  is),  in  many  countries, 
accompany'd  with  presents  :  Cleopatra,  in  her  reply,  acknowledges  herself  Caesar*s 
vassal,  and  that  she  ow'd  him  homage  as  such ;  but  that,  having  nothing  in  way  of 
present  to  send  him,  she  sent  him  his  own  greatness  ;  intimating — that  he  was  master 
of  hers,  and  of  the  fortunes  of  all  the  world,  and  could  not  be  disturbed  in  them. — 
Johnson  :  I  allow  him  to  be  my  conqueror ;  I  own  his  superiority  with  complete 
submission. — M.  Mason  :  Johnson  has  mistaken  the  meaning  of  this  passage,  nor  will 
the  words  bear  the  construction  he  gives  them.  It  appears  to  me,  that  by  the  great- 
ness he  has  got,  she  means  her  crown  which  he  has  won  ;  and  I  suppose  that  when 
she  pronounces  these  words,  she  delivers  to  Proculeius  either  her  own  crown,  or  some 
other  ensign  or  royalty. — [I  prefer  Johnson's  interpretation,  which  is,  substantially, 
that  of  Capell. — Ed.] 

42.  Malone  :  In  the  old  copy  there  is  no  stage-direction.  That  which  is  now 
inserted  [see  Text.  Notes']  is  formed  on  the  old  translation  of  Plutiurch  :  *  Proculeius 
came  to  the  gates  that  were  very  thicke  &  strong,  and  surely  barred,  out  yet  there 
were  some  cranewes  through  the  which  her  voyce  might  be  heardy  and  so  they  without 
vnderstood,  that  Cleopatra  demaunded  the  kingdome  of  Egypt  for  her  sonnes :  and 
that  Proculeius  aunswered  her,  that  she  should  be  of  good  cheare,  and  not  be  affrayed 
22 


338  THE  TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v,  sc.  ii. 

Guard  her  till  CcB/ar  come.  43 

43.  Guard'\  [Aloud  to  Pro.]  Guard         hind,  Procaleios,  and  Soldiers,  hastily. 
Cowden-Qarke.  Cap.     come.  Exit.  Var.  '78,  '85.     come, 

come.]  [come.  Exit  Proculeius.  Gal-  To  Proculeius  and  the  guard.  Exit  Cal- 
lus maintains  converse  with  Cleopatra.  lus.  Mai. 
Re-enter,  into  the  Monument,  from  be- 
to  referre  all  vnto  Casar,  After  he  had  viewed  the  place  very  well,  he  came  and 
reported  her  answere  vnto  Caesar.  Who  immediatly  sent  Callus  to  speake  once 
againe  with  her,  and  bad  him  purposely  hold  her  with  talke,  whilest  Proculeius  did 
set  vp  a  ladder  against  that  high  window,  by  the  which  Antonius  ivas  trised  vp,  and 
came  downe  into  the  monument  with  two  of  his  men  hard  by  the  gate,  where  Cleopatra 
stood  to  heare  what  Callus  sayd  vnto  her.  One  of  her  women  which  was  shut 
in  her  monumSts  with  her,  saw  Proculeius  by  chance  as  he  came  downe,  and 
shreeked  out,  O  poore  CleopcUra,  thou  art  taken.  Then  when  she  saw  Proculeius 
behind  her  as  she  came  from  the  gate,  she  thought  to  haue  stabbed  her  selfe  in 
with  a  short  dagger  she  wore  of  purpose  by  her  side.  But  Proculeius  came  sodainly 
vpon  her,  and  taking  her  by  both  the  hands,  sayd  vnto  her.  Cleopatra,  first  thou 
shalt  do  thy  selfe  great  wrong,  and  secondly  vnto  Casar:  to  depriue  him  of  the 
occasion  and  oportunitie,  openly  to  shew  his  bountie  and  mercie,  and  to  giue  his 
enemies  cause  to  accuse  the  most  curteous  and  noble  Prince  that  euer  was,  and  to 
appeache  him,  as  though  he  were  a  cruell  and  mercilesse  man,  that  were  not  to  be 
trusted.  So  euen  as  he  spake  the  word,  he  tooke  her  dagger  from  her,  and  shooke 
her  clothes  for  fcare  of  any  poyson  hidden  about  her.* — [See  Appendix,  Plutarch. 
I  have  not  recorded  in  the  Text.  Notes  all  the  stage-directions  given  by  the  early 
editors  in  their  vain  reachings  after  those  which  would  satisfy  all  requirements ;  nor 
have  I  recorded  all  the  minor  variations  of  the  modem  editors.  For  my  own  part,  I 
see  no  need  of  any  stage-direction  at  all.  It  is,  at  least  for  me,  quite  sufficient  to  see 
that  the  Romans  rush  in  and  seize  the  Queen.  In  these  thrilling  moments,  how  they 
got  in,  I  neither  know  nor  care.  Nor  does  any  one  in  the  audience  ever  know  how 
they  entered,  and  would  not  know,  unless  the  stage-manager  came  forwavd  and 
read  aloud  Plutarch,  or  Malone's  directions. — Ed.] 

42,  43.  Pro.  You  see  how  easily  .  • .  Csesar  come]  The  Ff,  followed  by 
Rows  and  Pope,  give  this  speech  to  Charmian.  Theobald,  however,  attributed 
this  distribution  to  the  two  latter  editors,  and  remarks  :  This  blunder  was  for  want 
of  knowing,  or  observing,  the  historical  fact.  When  Caesar  sent  Proculeius  to  the 
queen,  he  sent  Callus  after  him  with  new  instructions ;  and  while  one  amused  Qeo- 
patra  with  propositions  from  Caesar,  through  the  crannies  of  the  monument,  the  other 
scaled  it  by  a  ladder,  entered  it  at  a  window  backward,  and  made  Qeopatra,  and 
those  with  her,  prisoners.  I  have  reformed  the  passage,  therefore  (as,  I  am  per- 
suaded, the  author  designed  it),  from  the  authority  of  Plutarch. — Johnson:  This 
line,  in  the  first  edition,  is  given  to  Proculeius ;  and  to  him  it  certainly  belongs,  though 
perhaps  misplaced.  I  would  put  it  at  the  end  of  his  foregoing  speech :  '  Where  he 
for  grace  is  kneel'd  to.  Aside  to  Callus.  You  see  how  easily  she  may  be  surprized  * ; 
Then,  while  Cleopatra  makes  a  formal  answer,  Gallus,  upon  the  hint  given,  seizes 
her,  and  Proculeius,  interrupting  the  civility  of  his  answer :  *  — your  plight  is  pitied 
Of  him  that  cans' d  it,'  cries  out:  'Guard  her  till  Caesar  come.* — Malonk:  It  is 
clear,  from  the  passage  quoted  from  Plutarch  in  the  preceding  note,  that  this  ['/V^.'] 
was  an  error  of  the  compositor's  at  the  press,  and  that  it  belongs  to  Gallus;  who. 


ACT  V,  sc.  u.]       ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA  339 

Iras.     Royall  Queene. 

Char.     Oh  Cleopatra^  thou  art  taken  Queene.  45 

Cleo.     Quicke,  quicke^  good  hands. 

Pro.     Hold  worthy  Lady,  hold  : 
Doe  not  your  felfe  fuch  wrong,  who  are  in  this 
Releeu'd,  but  not  betraid.  49 

44.  RoyaU'\  d>  r^a/ Theob.  + ,  Cap.         ger.     The  Monument  is  open'd;  Pro. 
Ktly.  rushes  in  and  disarms  the  Queen.  Theob. 

QweruJl  Queen —  Han.  47.  [staying  her.   Cap.     Seizes  and 

45.  taken\  taken,  Rowe  ii.  disarms  her.  Mai. 

46.  hands. '\  hands.  [Drawing  a  Dag- 
after  Proculeius  hath,  according  to  his  suggestion,  ascended  the  monument,  goes  out 
to  inform  Caesar  that  Cleopatra  is  taken.  That  Caesar  was  informed  immediately  of 
Cleopatra's  being  taken,  appears  from  Dolabella's  first  speech  to  Proculeius  on  his 
entry :  *  Proculeius,  What  thou  hast  done,  thy  master  Caesar  knows,'  etc.  [See  lines 
77i  7^0  This  information,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  Caesar  obtained  from  Callus.  The 
stage-directions  being  very  imperfect  in  this  scene  in  the  old  copy,  no  exit  is  here 
marked  ;  but  as  Gallus  afterwards  enters  along  with  Caesar,  it  was  undoubtedly  the 
author's  intention  that  he  should  here  go  out. — Walker  (Crit.  ii,  177)  has  an  Article 
on  '  Instances  in  which  Speeches  are  assigned  in  the  Folio  to  Wrong  Characters,'  in 
the  course  of  which  he  remarks  (p.  185)  that,  <  Errors  in  the  assignment  of  speeches, 
— including  cases  in  which  two  speeches  have  been  confused  into  one,  or  the  like, — 
are  remark&bly  frequent  in  the  Folio.  I  have  just  cited  sixty  or  more  instances  [sixty- 
six,  by  my  counting. — Ed.  ]  in  which  this  has  taken  place,  even  according  to  the  uni- 
yersally  received  text.  This  being  the  case,  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  be 
scrupulous  in  asserting  the  same  of  other  passages,  where  the  context  clearly 
indicates  it.  [The  present  line  is  among  the  sixty-six.] — Thiselton  (p.  26) :  If  it 
were  desired  to  follow  Plutarch,  the  simplest  way  would  be,  perhaps,  to  regard  this 
line  as  the  commencement  of  a  new  scene  the  interval  being  taken  up  with  the  move- 
ments of  Proculeius,  but  the  fact  that  Gallus,  whose  presence  talking  with  Cleopatra 
is  essential  to  Plutarch's  account,  does  not  enter  till  later  shows  that  Shakespeare  did 
not  intend  to  follow  his  authority  slavishly.  It  therefore  seems  preferable  to  suppose 
that  the  ladder  was  fixed  by  the  soldiers  during  Proculeius'  previous  conversation 
with  Cleopatra,  and  that  he,  instead  of  going  to  Caesar  as  he  pretended,  climbed  up 
the  ladder  with  the  soldiers  and  almost  immediately  appeared  behind  Cleopatra  and 
her  companions  who  were  still  standing  at  the  gate.  This  view  will  account  for  the 
two  speeches  in  succession  being  attributed  to  Proculeius  by  the  Folio. 

49.  Releeu'd,  but  not  betraid]  Peck  (p.  254)  :  Instead  of '  betray' d,'  I  think, 
we  should  read  bereai/d.  This  reading,  I  am  sure,  agrees  better  with  Cleopatra's 
next  words, .  .  .  where  betrayed  of  death  is  a  forced  expression,  but  berem/d  is  very 
natural.  Besides  in  her  present  condition  she  finds  herself  already  bereai/d  of  her 
crown,  and,  therefore,  thinks  it  harder  to  be  bereai/d  of  death,  or  the  liberty  to  kill 
herself. — [Seven  years  after  the  publication  of  the  foregoing  note  by  Peck,  War- 
BURTON  proposed  the  same  emendation,  except  that  he  transferred  the  change  to 
'Releeu'd';  his  text  reads  ^  Bereay'd,  but  not  betray'd.'  His  note  thereon  is  of 
small  consequence.] 


340 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  V,  sc.  ii. 


Cleo.  What  of  death  too  that  rids  our  dogs  of  langui  fh 

Pro.     Cleopatra^  do  not  abufe  my  Mafters  bounty,  by 
ThVndoing  of  your  felfe  :  Let  the  World  fee 
His  Nobleneffe  well  afted,  which  your  death 
Will  neuer  let  come  forth. 

Clco.     Where  art  thou  Death  ? 
Come  hither  come  ;  Come,  come,  and  take  a  Queene 
Worth  many  Babes  and  Beggers. 

Pro.     Oh  temperance  Lady. 

Cleo.     Sir,  I  will  eate  no  meate,  He  not  drinke  fir, 
If  idle  talke  will  once  be  neceflary 
He  not  fleepe  neither.     This  mortall  houfe  He  ruine. 


SO 


S5 


60 


50,51.  that,..languiJhQ\exy^9Xxz.^  As 
one  line,  Cap.  et  seq. 

50.  languijh'\  languish  ?  Rowe.  an- 
guish Johns,  conj. 

51.  Cleopatra,]  Om.  Pope,  4- .  Sepa- 
rate line,  Var.  '73,  '78,  '85. 

52.  Th'vmioing']  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Dyce, 
Wh.  Hal.      Thf  undoing  Cap.  et  cet. 

56.  come;  Come^  come^'\  F,.  come; 
Come,  FjF^.  come  :  Oh  !  come,  Rowe,  + . 
eome  !  come,  come.  Cap.  et  seq. 


56.  a  Queene'\  the  Queen  Rowe. 
59,  60.  Sir,  ...neceffary\  Lines  trans- 
posed, Mitford  ap.  Cam. 

59.  Jle'\  F,.  rie  Fj.  We  F^.  77/ 
Rowe. 

60.  Jf ,,,  neceffary\  In  parenthesis, 
Sing.  Given  to  Proculeius.  Joicey  (A*. 
6-  Qu,  VII.  xii,  343). 

neceffary'\  accessary  Han.  Coll.  ii, 
iu  (MS),  Sta. 


50.  What  of  death  too]  Capell  (i,  49)  :  These  words  import — What,  am  I 
rob'd  of  death  too,  as  well  as  of  my  kingdom  ?  and  have  no  relation  to  those  that 
Proculeius  had  just  spoke,  which  perhaps  were  not  heard  by  her. 

57.  Worth  many  Babes  and  Beggers]  Johnson  :  Why,  death,  wilt  thoa  not 
rather  seize  a  queen,  than  employ  thy  force  upon  babes  and  beggars  f 

60.  talke]  Warburton  :  This  nonsense  should  be  reformed  thus :  '  If  idle  time^ 
etc.,  I.  e,  if  repose  be  necessary  to  cherish  life,  I  will  not  sleep. — Johnson  :  I  do  not 
see  that  the  nonsense  is  made  sense  by  the  change. 

60,  61.  If  idle  talke  will  once  be  necessary.  He  not  sleepe  neither]  Heath 
(p.  466)  :  I  conceive  the  poet's  meaning  is,  I  will  not  sleep  neither,  and,  to  prevent 
it,  I  will  keep  myself  awake  with  any  idle  talk  that  happens  to  come  uppermost — 
Johnson  :  *  I  will  not  eat,  and  if  it  will  be  necessary  now  for  once  to  waste  a  moment 
in  idle  talk  of  my  purpose.  Twill  not  sleep  neither,*  In  common  conversation  we 
often  use  will  be,  with  as  little  relation  to  futurity.  As,  '  Now  I  am  going,  it  Vfill  be 
fit  for  me  to  dine  first.* — Capell  (i,  50) :  *  Necessary'  in  this  line,  means — neces- 
sary to  life  ;  and  <  idle  talk,' — conversation  and  talk  among  friends :  and  this  being 
so,  *  sleep,' — which  is  the  reading  of  all  former  copies, — must  be  a  mistake,  and  that 
for — < speak : '  [thus  in  Capell's  text].  After  declaring  first  against  •  meat,*  and  then 
against  *  drink,'  she  crowns  the  whole  by  threat'ning  him  with, — the  greatest  possi- 
ble female  achievement, — a  renouncing  of  speech.  But  this  is  being  too  pleasant: 
especially,  at  this  time ;  and  with  a  speech,  that,  in  all  the  parts  of  it,  is  as  woithy 
the  magnificent  Cleopatra  as  any  one  that  the  Poet  has  given  her. — Stexvbns  :  Ona 


ACTv,  sc.  ii]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  341 

Do  Cafar  what  he  can.   Know  fir,  that  I  62 

Will  not  waite  pinnion'd  at  your  Mafters  Court, 

Nor  once  be  chaftic'd  with  the  fober  eye 

Of  dull  Oilauia.     Shall  they  hoyft  me  vp,  65 

And  fhew  me  to  the  (howting  Varlotarie 

Of  cenfuring  Rome  ?    Rather  a  ditch  in  Egypt. 

Be  gentle  graue  vnto  me,  rather  on  Nylus  mudde 

Lay  me  ftarke-nak'd,  and  let  the  water-Flies 

Blow  me  into  abhorring ;  rather  make  70 

My  Countries  high  pyramides  my  Gibbet, 

64.  NBrenctbt\Nolimctti>btV^^,  6g.  ^arie-nafii]   F„  Rowe,  Pope. 

Bowe,  Pope.  jtfori  Haf.^  F,F,,  Theob.  Wwb.  Coll. 

66.  Varlotarie']  Varlol/y  Ff,  Rowe,  Dycc,  Wh.  Sta.  Hal.  Hari  naiet/ Htat. 
Pope,  Theob.  Warb.    varlclry  Han.  el  eel. 

67.  Egypt.]  Egypt. V,.  MgypfYVaxio.  the]  Om.    Huds. 

68.  Bl gtnllf  graui\  Bi  gintlt,  gnrae,  71.  high  pyramidis]  hygh  pyramidti 
FjFj.      Butgeiilli,grave,'Ravit.  F,.      high    Pyramids    F^F,,    Var.  '73. 

vttto]  to  Han.  highest  Pyramid  Haji. 

maf  mean  sometimes.  The  meaniDg  of  Cleopatia  leecos  to  be  this  :  If  idle  talking  be 
sometimeg  necessary  to  the  prolongation  of  life,  why  I  will  not  sleep  for  fear  of  tetk- 
ing  idly  in  my  sleep.  The  sense,  designed,  howerer,  may  be — If  il  be  necessary,  foe 
once,  lo  talk  of  perfonning  impossibilities,  why,  I'll  not  sleep  neither.  I  have  little 
confidence,  however,  in  these  attempts,  to  produce  a  meaning  from  the  words  under 
consideration. — MaLONe:  The  explications  alxive  given  appear  to  me  so  unsatiahc- 
toiy,  that  I  have  no  doubt  thai  a.  line  has  been  lost  after  the  word  necessary,  in  which 
Cleopatra  threatened  to  observe  an  obstlnale  silence.  The  line  probably  began 
with  the  word  /'//,  and  the  compositor's  eye  glancing  on  the  lame  words  in  the  line 
beneath,  all  that  intervened  was  lost.  The  omitted  line  might  have  been  of  this 
import ;  ■  If  idle  talk  will  once  be  necessary,  /'//  not  se  much  ai  tyllaile  a  word;  I'll 
not  sleep  neither,'  etc.  The  words,  'I'll  not  sleep  neither,'  contain  a  new  and  dis- 
tinct menace. — RtTsoN :  I  agree  that  a  line  is  lost,  which  I  shall  attempt  lo  supply  1 
'If  idle  Ulicwlll  once  be  necessary  [/tut//  not  speak;  If  sliep  be  mcessary],  I'll 
not  sleep  Deilher.'  The  repetition  of  the  word  necessary  may  have  occasioned  the 
omission. — C0LLIKB  (ed.  ii)  says,  in  effect,  thai,  according  lo  the  MS,  Oeopotra 
adds '  that  she  will  hasten  her  dealh  by  perpetual  watchfulness,  if  <  idle  talk '  will 
contribute  lo  it,  ot  be  accessary  to  it.^STAUNTOM ;  We  adopt  Hanmer's  accessary. 
The  sense  is  plainly,—'  I'll  neilhei  eat  nor  drink,  and,  if  idle  Ulk  will./fr  the  nance, 
be  assistant,  I'll  not  sleep.' — [The  obscurity  in  these  lines  is  removed,  I  think,  by 
the  paraphrases  of  Heath  and  of  Johnson. — En.] 

69.  Btatke-nak'd]  Walker  (  Ven.  191)  has  gathered  many  examples  from  ihe 
old  poets  where  naked  is  ibus  conliacled.  We  lind  in  Middleton, '  To  cover  olhen, 
and  go  nak'd  thyself.' — Spanish  Gipsy,  p.  135,  ed.  Dyce.  Again,  Sidney ;  '  His 
who  till  death  lookt  in  a  watrie  ^lasiie.  Or  hers  whom  nakd  the  Troian  boy  did  see.' 
— Aitrophtland  Stella,  Sunn.  1  imii.— DvcE  (ed.  il)  quotes, '  Accomplished  Thoas.  in 
whose  breast,  (being  nak'd)  his  hnce  he  threw,'  elc. — Chapman's  /Had,  i»i,  I96 ; 
<  Strip'd  nak'd  her  bosome,  ihow'd  her  breaats,'  eic — liU,  xxii,  6}. 


342  THE  TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  t.  sc  i- 

And  hang  me  vp  in  Chaines.  72 

Pro.    You  do  extend 
Thefe  thoughts  of  horror  further  then  you  (hall 
Finde  caufe  in  Ca/ar,  75 

Enter  DoUibeUa. 

DoL     ProculeiuSj 
What  thou  hail  done,  thy  Mailer  Cafar  knowes. 
And  he  hath  fent  for  thee  :  for  the  Queene, 
He  take  her  to  my  Guard.  80 

Pro.     So  Dolabella^ 
It  (hall  content  me  befl :  Be  gentle  to  her. 
To  Cafar  I  will  fpeake,  what  you  ihall  pleafe, 
If  youl  imploy  me  to  him.  Exit  ProcitUms 

CUo.     Say,  I  would  ^y^.  85 

DoL     Moil  Noble  Empreflfe,  you  haue  heard  of  me. 

CUo.     I  cannot  telL 

Dol.    AiTuredly  you  know  me. 

CUo.     No  matter  iir,  what  I  haue  heard  or  knowne  : 
You  laugh  when  Boyes  or  Women  tell  their  Dreames,  90 

74.  furtker\  farther  Cap.  CoIL  Wh.  Han.  Johns.  Var.  '73  et  seq. 

75.  toufi^  cause  for  it  Cap.  84.  Exit...]  Exeunt  Proc  and  Gallos. 
Scene  IIL  Warb.  Johns.  Han.  Elzeunt  Proc  and  Sc^ciien^  Capw 
78.  thy\  my  F^,  Rowe,  Pbpc,  Han.  After  line  85,  Pope  et  seq. 


79. /A«/]/^it/iiK^DjceLcooj. Walker,  86.  me.^    Ff,   Rowe,  +  ,   Ktly.     wuf 

Dyce  fi,  iii,  Ktly.  Cap.  et  ceL 

for'\   as  for  Ff,   Rowe,  + ,  Cap.  88.  you  kfum  nu^  yom  have  Gar. 

Varr.  Ran.  Steer.  Var.  '03,  '13,  Hods.  90.  Dreawus^    dreams ;    Theob.   €t 

^3*  84.    To...kimJ\   [To  Qeopatra.  seq. 

71.  pyramides]  Dtce  (Note  in  The  False  One,  H,  i)  :  The  passages  of  oor 
earl  J  writers  in  which  'pjramJdes*  (the  regular  pi  oral  of  pyramis)  occnis  are  toj 
numerons.  In  the  line  in  this  speech  [in  7^  False  One^  :  <  No  pjramids  set  off 
his  memories,'  though  both  the  folios  have  pyramides,  there  can  be  no  doabc  that  the 
poet  intended  the  word  to  consist  of  only  three  syllables. — [See  II,  rii,  39.] 

82.  It  shaU  content  me  best]  Here  the  Cowdex-Clarkes  hare  the  foflowing 
slage-ifirection  and  note :  '  Brings  Qeopatra  down  into  the  lower  room  of  the  Mooo- 
ment,  and  delivers  her  to  DoUabella.'  This  stage-direction  has  been  added  by  die 
editors,  as  affording  an  idea  of  the  sitnation  in  the  present  scene.  There  woold  be 
00  means  of  accoimting  for  what  subsequently  takes  place,  were  we  not  to  imagine 
Qeopatra  as  being  still  withinside  her  monomeitf. 

84.  If  jcml  implq]r  me  to  him]  Bradley  (  A^.  E.  D.  1.  v.  Employ,  3.  f  b.) : 
To  send  (a  person)  wiih  a  commission  to,  tofwards  (a  person),  to,  int9  (a  place). 
*  We  shall  bane  neede  T*  imploy  yon  towards  thb  Romane.* — Cymh.  II,  iii,  6&  [The 
qooted.     See,  also,  if  needful,  Fkanz,  $  379,  b.] 


ACT  V,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  343 

Is't  not  your  tricke  ?  91 

DoL     I  vnderftand  not,  Madam. 

Cleo.     I  dreampt  there  was  an  Emperor  Anthony. 
Oh  fuch  another  fleepe,  that  I  might  fee 
But  fuch  another  man.  95 

DoL     If  it  might  pleafe  ye. 

Cleo,  His  face  was  as  the  Heau'ns,  and  therein  ftucke 
A  Sunne  and  Moone,  which  kept  their  courfe,  &  lighted 
The  little  o'th'earth. 

DoL     Moft  Soueraigne  Creature.  100 

Cleo.     His  legges  beftrid  the  Ocean,  his  reared  arme 
Crefted  the  world  :  His  voyce  was  propertied 
As  all  the  tuned  Spheres,  and  that  to  Friends  :  103 

93,  114.  dreampt^  F,     dreamt  F^F^,  O  dth'  Theob.  Warb.  Jchns.  Cap.  Var. 

Rowc,  +  ,   Cap.   Var. '73,    Knt,    Sing.  '73.    orboUJCYizji,     O,  rJkeVzr.'jS  ei 

dreamed  Var.  '78  et  cet.  seq. 

96.  ye.'\  Ff.  ye —  Rowe,4-,  Dyce,  100.  CrecUHre,'\  creature —  Rowe  ct 
Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  (subs. )  you, —  Cap.  seq.  (subs.) 

et  cet  103.  and  thai'\    when  thai  Theob. 

97.  /^««*>ir]  Rowe, +  .  heaven* sDe-  Warb.  Johns.  Cap.  addrest  Anon.  ap. 
lias  conj.     heavens  Ff  et  cet.  Cam. 

99.  dth''\  F,,  Rowe,  Pope.   oth?¥^^, 

97,  etc.  His  face  was  as  the  Heau'ns,  etc.]  In  all  the  similes  throughout  this 
*  dream,'  Whiter  discerns  allusions  to  pageants  and  processions.  'Let  it  be 
remembered,*  he  says  (p.  190),  'that  an  imitation  of  the  sphere  of  the  Heavens, 
with  the  attributes  and  ornaments  belonging  to  it,  the  sweetness  of  its  music,  and 
the  noise  of  its  thunder,  the  Sun,  the  Moon,  and  the  Earth,  colossal  figures, — 
armorial  bearings, — a  magnificent  procession  of  monarchs  and  their  attendants, — 
floating  islands, — and  a  prodigal  distribution  of  wealth  and  honors,  are  the  known 
and  familiar  materials  which  formed  the  motley  compound  of  the  Masque,  the 
Pageant,  or  the  Procession.'     See  IV,  xiv,  11. 

99,  xoo.  The  little  .  .  .  Creature]  Theobald  :  What  a  blessed  limping  verse 
these  two  hemistichs  give  us  !  Had  none  of  the  Editors  an  ear  to  find  the  hitch  in 
its  pace?  'Tis  true,  there  is  but  a  syllable  wanting,  and  that,  I  believe  verily,  was 
but  of  a  single  letter;  which  the  first  Editors  not  understanding,  learnedly  threw  it 
out  as  a  redundance.  I  restore,  The  little  O  oUh* Earthy  1.  e,  the  little  orb  or  circle. 
And,  'tis  plain,  our  Poet  in  other  passages  chuses  to  express  himself  thus,  '  Ros.  O, 
that  your  face  were  not  so  full  of  O'es.' — Love's  Labour's  Lost^  V,  ii,  46,  1.  e,  of 
round  dimples,  pitts  with  the  smallpox.  '  Can  we  cram.  Within  this  wooden  O, 
the  very  casques,'  etc. — ProL  to  Henry  K  12.  *  Fair  Helena,  who  more  engilds  the 
night  Than  all  yon  fiery  O's  and  Eyes  of  light.' — Mid.  N,  D,,  III,  ii,  195,  t.  e, 
the  circles,  orbs  of  the  stars. — Collier  :  [Notwithstanding  Theobald's  amendment, 
the  text  of  the  folio]  may,  after  all,  be  the  true  reading. 

loi,  102.  his  rear'd  arme  Crested  the  world]  Percy  :  Alluding  to  some  of  the 
old  crests  in  heraldry,  where  a  raised  arm  on  a  wreath  was  mounted  on  the  helmet. 


J44  ^^^   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  v,  sc.  i. 

But  when  he  meant  to  quaile,  and  (hake  the  Orbe, 

He  was  as  ratling  Thunder.     For  his  Bounty,  105 

There  was  no  ^i-inter  in't.     An  Anthony  it  was. 

That  grew  the  more  by  reaping  :  His  delights  107 

lod.  An  AntbcMij  i£  w*s\  Yt,  Rove,         Autrnmn,  'faras  TheobL  ct  seq. 
I\>pe.     mm  enti^  x/  teas  Ballodi.     Am 


103.  the  toned  Spheies]  See  m,  sin,  175.    Abo,  if  need  be,  *  Tlieie's  noc  the 
smallest  orbe  which  thoa  beholdat  Bai  in  his  mnfion  like  aa  sngeU  snCS* — Mer.  tf 
Vem,  Y»  i»  69,  and  the  Dotes  that  follow,  in  this  cdidoa. 

103.  mnd  that  to  FiieiMl*]  STAcrxroec  (Atktm^mat^  26  Apr.  1S73) :  SozcIt.— 
^aad  nvwiT  tDfriemis*;  'diat'  has  aobosioesi  in  this  p2ace.  asd  only  serves  to  mm 
the  gkxy  of  the  speech. — [Elzx  (pL  293)  proposed,  indepcDdendr,  the  sme  emea- 
datioow  and  also  *  and  soft  to  FziendsL'  Bat,  assoicdly,  thoofh  a  iittle  awfcwaid, 
'diat*  is  perfectly  cofzect.  Its  antEcedent  is  'voice.*  'That*  (or  xwiJ)  was  Ms 
voice  when  addressing  his ftieods. — Fix] 

KH.  qoaile]  See  *  Fall  noc  a  tear,*  III,  zi,  7S. 

105.  ntliB^  Thnader]  Conipaze :  'Thy  eye  lames  Ixghcntnc  benres^  thy  vovce 
his  dzeadfell  thmider.  Whidh  not  to  an^er  bent,  is  nncaqne  and  sweet  ire^* — Ln^i 
La^,  Last^  I\%  ii»  13a — Edl 

105-107.  For  b»  BoQsCy,  There  was  no  winter  in't.  An  AnthiMij  it  wna. 
That  stew  tha  more  hy  rrapin^;]  Thiooald  :  There  was  ccstunly  a  rrw,rn^ 
both  in  the  thom^tt  and  terms,  desigiied  here,  which  is  lost  in  aa  acodenfiil  cor- 
rapdoo.  How  could  an  Antony  grow  the  more  by  reafing  ?  FIX  ventnrev  by  a  vey 
easy  change*  to  restore  an  eaqoisite  fine  allnsRm ;  which  carrier  its  leasca  with  it  too^ 
whf  there  was  no  mimUr  in  his  boonty :  '  For  his  boon^.  There  was  no  wmfir 
in*t;  an  omtuntM  *twas^  That  grew  the  more  by  reaping.'  I  onght  to  take  nctic^ 
that  the  ingeaioas  Dr  Thinby  likewise  started  tiiis  very  emfminrioa^  and  had  ■«— ■■^ 
it  in  the  margin  ot  his  book.  The  reason  of  the  depavaoun  might  easily  arise  brm^ 
thegreatsimiiitndeof  the  two  words  in  the  otdspeHingy  AmtomieKad,Amt\\m^mt.  [The 
name  is  spelt  Anthony  in  this  play  in  the  Folio  without  an  excepdim*  I  think; 
which  injnres  the  literal  'similitnde'  not  a  littie. — Ed.]  Our  anthor  has  emploved 
this  thought  again  in  [his  53rd  .Simmer]  :  '  Speak  of  the  spring  and  finaon  of  the 
year:  The  one  doch  shadow  of  3Four  bcaaty  show,  Tae  other  as  your  booni^  dock 
appear ;  And  nm  in  every  blessed  shape  we  know.*  TIs  plain  that  'finaon *  meaas 
Amtmmn.  here,  which  pours  out  its  profusion  of  fruits  boontx&ily ;  in  oppoaitkin  to 
S^nring^  which  only  shews  tiie  youthful  beauty,  and  promise  of  that  fiitme  bonaty. — 
Com^eK  (  Tkt  NaUony  2S  Aug.,  1^73;  :  If  *  An  Anthony  it  was*  is  not  tight,  'aa 
^i^tiwi%  'twas*  bft  certainly  wrong.  It  is  too  tame  for  the  intensely  •mpnuinn*^ 
speech  in  which  it  occurs,  or,  rather,  into  which  it  has  been  introduced  by  the  C!htai& 
Again»  if  ^  autiunn  *  could,  by  metonymy,  be  wrenched  to  aiean  the  crops  of  «"«"■»«" 
it  could  hardly  be  said  that  an  aiimmn  ^nraa  the  more  by  reaping.  But  this  reaihng 
of  Theobald  has  been  sdently  adopted  by  ail  subsequent  editocsy  without  any  a»> 
SMieradou  of  itis  tameness  or  of  the  resaitant  izKongmity.  In  *  An  Amtkumjp  it  wsi* 
*-  it  *  stands,  oi  course,  for  '  Bount)*.*  His  Bounty  was  an  Anikomy^  *  that  grew  the 
more  by  reapiog.'  Now,  could  the  ' less  Greek'  whidi,  Ben  Jonson  teQs  ua,  Shake- 
speare possessed^  have  enabled  him  to  see  in  *  Anthony '  the  word  kar^xtf  ?  His 
BcmoCy  had  no  wimer  in  it;  it  was  a  mead  of  perennial  loxuxiance,  '^■■K'f  a 


ACT  V,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  345 

Were  Dolphin-like,  they  fliewM  his  backe  aboue  108 

108.  his  backe\  their  back  Han.     the  back  Ktly.     their  backs  Bailey  (ii,  1 25). 

Jlcwering  pasturage  ('Avi?<5vo/ioc),  and  'that  grew  the  more  by  reaping.' — James 
Spbdding  (N.  <Sr*  Qu.,  1874,  V,  i,  303)  :  I  cannot  understand  Prof.  Corson's  objec- 
tion to  'autumn.*  In  the  cursive  black-letter  hand  of  the  time  Autumn  might  easily 
be  written  so  as  to  be  hardly  distinguishable  from  Antonicy  and  surely  it  makes  better 
sense  and  better  poetry.  So  far  from  calling  it '  tame/  I  should  instance  it  as  one  of 
the  noblest,  boldest,  and  liveliest  images  in  poetry.  Keats  said  that  poetry  '  ought 
to  surprise,  by  a  fine  excess.*  This  is  exactly  a  case  of  such  'fine  excess.'  '  An 
autumn  that  grew  the  more  by  reaping ' — that,  the  more  you  took  of  its  harvests, 
the  more  there  remained  to  take — is  surely  as  great  an  image  of  '  bounty '  as  the 
mind  in  its  most  impassioned  state  ever  created ;  quite  as  much  so,  and  yet  evidently 
from  the  same  mint,  as  Juliet's — '  My  bounty  is  as  boundless  as  the  sea,  My  love  as 
deep  ;  the  more  I  give  to  thee.  The  more  I  have  ;  for  both  are  infinite.'  As  for  the 
difficulty  of  understanding  by  autunm  the  crops  of  autumn,  how  is  it  more  difficult 
than  to  understand  by  '  winter '  the  absence  of  crops  ?  And  what  are  we  to  come 
to  ?  Instead  of  allowing  Tennyson  to  say — '  To  strip  a  hundred  hollows  bare  of 
spring,'  we  shall  have  to  ask  him  to  print  '  sprigs '  for  '  spring.'  As  for  the  amount 
of  Shakespeare's  Greek,  of  which  he  has  left  us  no  means  of  judging,  the  difficulty 
is  to  understand  how  be  could  have  had  Greek  enough  to  know  that  h-vQo^  meant  a 
flower,  without  knowing  also  that  Anthony  could  not  mean  a  pasture  of  flowers ;  and 
not  only  could  not  really  mean  it,  but  could  not,  by  any  process  of  association,  legiti- 
mate or  illegitimate,  suggest  the  image  to  an  Englishman. — [Theobald  asks,  '  how 
an  Antony  could  grow  the  more  by  reaping?'  Would  it  not  be  equally  perti- 
oent  to  ask  how  an  autumn  could  grow  the  more  by  reaping?  Reaping  in  the 
autumn  is  done  when  the  grain  is  ripe,  and  grain  thus  reaped  never  grows  again. 
The  farmer  is  not  yet  born  who,  in  the  temperate  zone,  reaps  the  ripe  grain  in  the 
autumn  and  finds  it  growing  more  vigorously  for  the  process.  To  be  sure,  a  farmer 
who  could  keep  on  reaping  stubble  fields  and  find  at  each  reaping  a  heavier  harvest 
would  be,  as  Spedding  observes, '  as  great  an  image  of  "  bounty  "  as  the  mind  in  its 
most  impassioned  state  ever  created,'  and,  possibly,  can  be  paralleled  only  in  the 
Arabian  Nights,  Not  thus  essentially  at  fault  are,  I  think,  Shakespeare's  similes, 
which  may  be  sometimes  flagrantly  open  to  criticism,  but  never  to  downright  folly — 
thus,  in  all  humility,  it  seems  to  me.  When  Spedding  becomes  eloquent  over  the 
beauty  of '  autumn,'  he  seems  to  forget  that  he  is  exalting  not  Shakespeare,  but  Theo- 
bald. There  is  about  Corson's  suggestion  so  much  refinement,  elegance,  and  charm 
that  it  is  hard  to  reject  it.  But,  unfortunately,  there  is  nothing  in  common  between 
Anthony  and  Anthos  but  the  first  syllable,  and  there  is  no  Greek  word  which  will 
furnish  any  more.  Moreover,  we  do  not  reap  flowers,  even  to  make  them  grow. 
Until  an  emendation  is  suggested,  therefore,  happier,  as  I  think,  than  autumn^  I 
shall  endeavour,  for  my  own  feeble  self,  to  extract  from  '  Anthony '  what  meaning  I 
may  of  inexhaustible  perfection  in  face,  in  form,  in  voice,  in  bounty,  which  for  Cleo- 
patra so  far  lay  in  that  single  name  that  once,  in  order  to  express  the  height  and 
depth  and  boundlessness  of  her  self-absorption  she  exclaimed,  <0h,  my  oblivion  is  a 
very  Anthony  ! ' — Ed.] 

108.  Dolphin-like,  they  shew'd  his  backe,  etc.]  Whiter  (p.  189) :  The  back 
of  the  dolphin  is  deeply  associated  in  the  mind  of  .Shakespeare  with  the  splendid 
scenery  of  the  pageant  or  the  procession.     Would  the  reader  believe  that  [the  pres- 


346  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v.  sc.  iL 

The  Element  they  liuM  in  :  In  his  Liuery 

WalkM  Crownes  and  Crownets:Realms  &  Iflands  were  no 

As  plates  dropt  from  his  pocket. 

Dol.     Cleopatra. 

CUo.     Thinke  you  there  was,  or  might  be  fuch  a  man 
As  this  I  dreampt  of  ? 

DoL     Gentle  Madam,  no.  115 

CUo.     You  Lye  vp  to  the  hearing  of  the  Gods  : 
But  if  there  be,  nor  euer  were  one  fuch 
It's  part  the  fize  of  dreaming  :  Nature  wants  (bifie 
To  vie  ftrange  formes  with  fande,  yet  t'imagine  1 19 

no.  Crtmmeti\  rvrvM^  P6pe, 4  .  \\t^  fancie^'\  fancy;   Han.   Cap.  et 

p]  Om.    Ff»  Rowe,  Pope.  scq. 


III.  acopatn.]  Ff.    OW^aiy^ /Glo.  /^imtagmc]    Ff,    Rove,    Pope, 

Oetf^int —  Rove  et  cct.  (sobs.)  Tbeob.  Wmib.  Johns.  Sio^.  Wb.  Dyce 


117.  fi«r]  F,.     0r  FjF^  et  seq.  ii,  iii,  Ktlj.     U/^rm  Han.     U  imagmt 

IlS.  //'j]  Its  Ft  Ckp.  et  ccL 


ent  passi^]  is  to  be  refened  to  this  source  ?  There  is  nothing,  hoverer,  more  cer- 
tain and  indubitable. 

III.  As  plates]  Stssvens:  opiates 'mean,  I  bdiere,  iiftvrflVMMT^.  So,  in  Mar- 
love's  Jc7t  ff  Mclia^  1633 :  *  What's  the  price  of  this  slaTe  ?  tvo  bandied  crovos! 
.  •  .  And  if  he  h^s,  be  is  vorth  tbive  handled  pUuL* — [II,  pi.  272,  ed.  Dyoe.] 
A^n:  <Rat'st  thoa  this  Moor  but  at  two  hondred  plaUsf — [Ihid,  p.  273.}— 
Wh ALLET :  Sleerens  jostl  j  interprets  '  plates  *  to  mean  silver  money.  It  is  a  term 
in  heraldry.  The  balls  or  roimdels  in  an  escsttcbeon  of  arms,  accordii^  to  their 
different  cokmrss  have  different  names.  If  ^ula^  or  red,  thej  are  called  torUauxa; 
if  4>r,  or  3pe)k>v,  hnaUs  :  if  cr^rmi^  or  vbite,^^iki^,  vhich  are  hnttons  of  sflver  vith- 
OQt  any  impressxA,  bet  only  prepared  ibr  the  stamp. 

117.  noreoerwere]  THTSE1.70N  ^Pl27):  'Nor*basbecnmivairantabtydianged 
to  AT,  ovin£  to  its  being  orer^oc^ed  tbat  tlus  line  is  in  direct  contrast  vith  tbe  preced- 
ing, and  iH&t  *  nor '  implies  an  eHips's  of  mntker  or  m^  Qeopatxa  voold  ask, '  Bat 
assoming  ^  tbe  moment  yon  are  right,  bov  came  I  to  dream  of  sndi  a  one  ?  *  And 
this  quesuon  she  aosvexs  ly  sayii^  tbat  tboi^h  Fancy  ooold  outsUip  Natnre,  yet  die 
mere  pktnre  of  Anthony  as  be  acmfelly  v:as  in  Katne  exceeded  aiTthing  Fancy 
cowM  create.  The  descripdon  Qeopatxa  bas  jost  gives  vas  tbe  vork  of  fiuxy  bat  ia 
»d  &r  as  it  did  ncc  tally  v^ih  Antbcmy  as  be  was,  it  vas  becime  it  fell  abort  oC  not 
bccaase  it  eu^sircntcd,  bis  greatness^ 

ll<k  To  Tie]  Stai'^tos  :  This  v«s  a  term  at  cards,  and  meant,  porticnlariy,  to 
tecTHue  tbe  itake^  and,  gcnesaHy,  to  rbaHmge  any  one  to  a  cmeUmfim^  het^  magir, 
eK''. — [Undoabfeedly,  ii  vas,  and,  |gilm»v,  originally,  a  term  at  cards,  altboagh  ib 
m«aiiinc  i^  cbacvrcL  It  is  nsed  in  Fkcio's  Se^wmi  Frmia  (ppu  69,  71)  in  a  vi^ 
vbkli  is  diftcvit  10  expiMa.  Bat  I  donH  that,  ia  tbe  present  pam^e,  it  has  aay 
uferuace  to  caris.  It  is  nwd,  I  iUnk«  as  it  is  defined  m  tbe  Cemtmrj  Dittimmfj 
(9sr.  Tie,  II.  ffitms,  ^^z  *Topdl  cr  brn^  inm  oampetiboai ;  try  toonldoin;  ooolcBd 
^ivMi  layC'Cf  tCk'    WbeKopott  ibe  |amjut  jTi^f  is  ^aoied  as  an  m^^mm^ — ^^j^ 


ACT  V.  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  347 

An  Anthony  were  Natures  peece,  'gainft  Fancie,  120 

Condemning  (hadowes  quite. 

DoL     Heare  me,  good  Madam  : 
Your  loffe  is  as  your  felfe,  great ;  and  you  beare  it 
As  anfwering  to  the  waight,  would  I  might  neuer 
Ore-take  purfu'de  fucceffe  :  But  I  do  feele  125 

By  the  rebound  of  yours,  a  greefe  that  fuites 

120.  were\withYY  ,    n^ojCap. conj.  Rowe  et  seq. 
Gar.  1 25.  purfu'dtl  purfu'd  FjF^. 

peece ^  F^.    piece^Y^^^  Rowe,  /uccejfe  :  But '\  success ^  but  Koyre 

Pope,    prize  Theob.  Han.  Warb.    piece  ct  seq. 

Johns,  et  seq.  126.  fuites'\   F,.    fuits  F^F^,  Rowe. 

Fancie'\  Fancy* s  Ktly.  smites  Cap.  Coll.  Sing.  Dyce,  Wh.  i,  Sta. 

X24.  waight tl  7veight^  ^3^4*     weight:  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.     shoots  Pope  et  cet. 

119-121.  yet  t'imagine  .  .  .  shadowes  quite]  Whiter  (p.  194) :  Is  it  possible 
to  employ  terms  more  pointed  and  significant  than  those  which  might  be  selected 
from  the  concluding  sentence  to  describe  the  nature  and  properties  of  such  romantic 
exhibitions  ?  For  what  are  the  devices  of  the  Pageant,  but  the  creatures  of  a  dreamy 
— the  strange  forms  of  an  illusive  fancy ^  and  the  empty  shadows  of  a  sportive 
imagination  ? — Staunton  :  We  are  not  sure  of  having  mastered  the  sense  of  this,  or 
indeed  that  the  text  exhibits  precisely  what  Shakespeare  wrote,  but  the  meaning 
apparently  is, — *■  Nature  lacks  material  to  compete  with  fancy  in  unwonted  shapes, 
yet  the  conception  of  an  Antony  was  a  masterpiece  of  Nature  over  fancy,  abasing 
phantoms  quite.' — Hudson  :  Shakespeare  sometimes  msgs  fancy  and  imagination  as 
equivalent  terms,  and  here  he  uses  both  for  the  dreaming-power.  Nature  lacks 
material  to  keep  up  with  fancy  in  the  creation  of  strange  forms  ;  yet  to  fancy  such  an 
actual  being  as  Antony,  a  man  of  Nature's  making,  were  to  make  Nature  an  over- 
match for  fancy,  dwarfing  its  shadowy  creatures  into  insignificance.  The  passage 
is  exceedingly  strong  and  subtle,  and  comes  appropriately  from  this  matchless  roll  of 
unwomanly  womanhood. 

120, 1 21.  were  Natures  peece,  'gainst  Fancie,  Condeixining  shadowes  quite] 
Warburton  :  The  word  prize,  which  I  have  restored,  is  very  pretty,  as  figuring  a 
contention  between  nature  and  imagination  about  the  latter  extent  of  their  powers ; 
and  nature  gaining  the  prize  by  producing  Antony. — ^Johnson  :  The  word  'piece,' 
is  a  term  appropriated  to  works  of  art.  Here  Nature  and  Fancy  produce  each  their 
piece,  and  the  piece  done  by  Nature  had  the  preference.  Antony  was  in  reality /ox/ 
the  size  of  dreaming ;  he  was  more  by  Nature  than  Fancy  could  present  in  sleep. 

124,  125.  would  I  .  .  .  But  I  do]  Thiselton  (p.  27) :  •  But,'  Dollabella  means, 

•  If  success  in  a  cherished  object  carries  with  it  the  being  infected  by  the  grief  of  my 
victim,  as  I  am  now  by  your  grief,  I  would  rather  forego  it.' — [Is  not  the  *  But,*  in 
this  passage,  that  which  follows  strong  asseverations,  as  in  Othello's  exclamation : 

*  Perdition  catch  my  soul  But  I  do  love  thee '  ?  Thus  here  Dollabella  says,  in  effect, 
•Would  I  might  never  gain  success,  if  I  do  not  sympathise  with  you  !  * — Ed,] 

126.  a  greefe  that  suites]  Collier  (ed.  i) :  Surely,  as  Mr  Barron  Field  observes, 
[suites]  is  much  more  likely  to  have  been  a  misprint  for  smites  [than  shoots]  which 
only  varies  in  a  single  letter.     The  expression  is  then  more  natural,  and  it  avoids  the 


348 


THE   TRACED  IE   OF 


[act  V,  sc.  iL 


My  very  heart  at  roote. 

Cleo.     I  thanke  you  fir  : 
Know  you  what  CcBfar  meanes  to  do  with  me  ? 

DoL     I  am  loath  to  tell  you  what,  I  would  you  knew. 

Cleo,     Nay  pray  you  fir. 

DoL     Though  he  be  Honourable. 

Cleo.     Hee'l  leade  me  then  in  Triumph. 

DoL     Madam  he  will ,  I  knoVt.  Flourijh. 

Enter  Proculeius,  Ca/ary  Callus  y  MecenaSy 
and  others  of  his  Traine. 

All.     Make  way  there  CcB/ar. 


127 


130 


135 


137 


127.  nt  roote\  at^  root  Ed.  conj. 
130.  I  anC^  Pm  Pope,  + ,  Dyce  ii,  iii. 
what^  /]  what  J  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 
l3X.^r.]  sir:  Cap.     jir, —  Var. '73 
et  seq. 

132.  Hofumrable,'\  honourable —  Pope 
et  seq.  (subs.) 

133.  then]   Om.    Theob.    ii,   Warb. 
Johns.  Cap. 

Triumph.]  Ff,  Rowe.  triumph  : 
Cap.     triumph  ?  Pope  et  cct. 

134.  /  kmni/t]   Separate  line,  Han. 
Steev.  Var.  '03,  M3,  Knt,  Sing. 

knmu't]  FjF^,  Var.  '21,  Coll. 
Dyce,  Wh.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Hal.  knotut 
F,,     know  it  Cap.  et  ceL 

Flourifti.]  Om,   Rowe,  +  ,  Cap. 


Varr.  Steev.  Van.  Knt  Flourish  with* 
in.  Dyce.  Flourish  without.  Sta.  Flour- 
ish and  shout  within  :  *  Make  way  there  : 
Casar!^  Glo.  Cam. 

134.  Scene  IH.  Pope,  Han.  Scene 
IV.  Warb.  Johns. 

135.  136.  Enter...]  Enter  Caesar  and 
Train  of  Romans,  and  Seleucus.  Cap. 
After  line  137,  Pope  et  seq. 

136.  others  of  his  Traine.]  Attendants. 
Rowe. 

137.  All.  Make  ...  Caefar.]  within. 
Make ...  Qesar,  Cap.  [Without]  Make 
,..Cirsar!  Sta. 

there  Csefar]  there — Cetsar.  Rowe 
et  seq. 


clash  of  shoots  and  'root' — [Collier  repeats  this  note  in  his  ed.  ii,  and  adds  that 
*  suites'  is  corrected  to  smites  in  the  MS.] — Walker  {Crit.  iii,  311 ) :  'A  grief  that 
shootSy — that  is  neither  old  nor  modem  English.  Note,  too,  *  shoots  at  root.*  Folio, 
suites ;  hence  one  of  the  conmientators  (I  know  not  who),  recollecting  the  puns  00 
suitor  and  shooter  in  the  old  dramatists,  concluded  it  was  a  mistake  of  the  printer's 
ear  for  shoots.  (Apropos  of  which,  by  the  way,  in  a  letter  of  John  Alleyn,  the  player, 
a  man  ignorant  of  spelling,  ap.  Collier's  Alleyn  Papers^  shauie  is  written  for  suite^ 
courtship,  offer  of  marriage. )  Shakespeare  wrote  smites.  Smite  occurs  in  the  vexy 
next  column  ;  so  that  the  word  seems  to  have  been  running  in  his  head. — Dyce  : 
Smites t — thus  Tyrwhitt  in  his  copy  of  F,  in  the  British  Museum. — Anon.  (Black- 
woody  Oct.  1853)  :  'Suites'  is  perhaps  judiciously  altered  into  smites. — [Inasmuch 
as  there  is  proof,  adequately  conclusive  (see  a  long  discussion  in  Lovt^s  Lab,  Lost^ 
IV,  i,  122),  that  suite  and  suitor  were,  in  Shakespeare's  day,  pronounced,  on  occasion, 
shoot  and  shooter ;  and,  inasmuch  as  *■  suites,'  thus  pronounced  in  the  present  pas- 
sage makes  good  sense,  I  do  not  think  we  are  justified  in  substituting,  for  one  of 
Shakespeare^s  own  words,  any  other  word,  however  great  may  be  the  improvement 
Is  it  not  conmion  enough,  at  the  present  day,  to  speak  of  physical  pain  as  *  shooting'  ? 
Cannot  poetic  license  apply  the  same  verb  to  mental  pain  ? — Ed.] 


ACTV.  sc.  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  349 

C(Bf.     Which  is  the  Queene  of  Egypt.  138 

DoL     It  is  the  Emperor  Madam .  Cleo.  kneeles. 

Cafar.     Arife,  you  (hall  not  kneele  :  140 

I  pray  you  rife,  rife  Egypt. 

Cleo.     Sir,  the  Gods  will  haue  it  thus, 
My  Mafter  and  my  Lord  I  muft  obey, 

CcB/ar.     Take  to  you  no  hard  thoughts. 
The  Record  of  what  iniuries  you  did  vs,  145 

Though  written  in  our  flefli,  we  fhall  remember 
As  things  but  done  by  chance. 

Cleo.     Sole  Sir  o'th'World, 
I  cannot  proieft  mine  owne  caufe  fo  well 

To  make  it  cleare,  but  do  confeffe  I  haue  150 

Bene  laden  with  like  frailties,  which  before 
Haue  often  fham'd  our  Sex. 

CcBfar.     Cleopatra  know. 
We  will  extenuate  rather  then  inforce  :  154 

138-140.  Which,.. kfueU:^  Lines  end,  142,  143.  wilL„Lord'\  Separate  line, 

queen,.. Arise ^  ...kneel :  Steev.  Var.  '03,  Pope  et  seq. 
'13.  X42.  M«j,]  thus ;  Theob.  ct  seq. 

138.  Egypt.'\  y^gypi  ?  Rowe  et  seq.  143.  muft'\  much  Ff. 

139.  Itii\  *  Tis  Steev.  Varr.  Knt,  Sing.  obey^'\  obey.  F^  et  seq. 

Ktly.  144.  thoughts  y'\  thoughts  ;  Pope  et  seq. 

140.  [to  Cleop.  raising  her.  Cap.  149.  proie^'\   parget  Han.     procter 

141.  r^if,]  rif^.  Johns.  Var.  *73.  rise;         Warb.    perfect  Ot^^tx. 

Cap.  Var.  '78  et  seq.  150.  cleare j"]  clear;  Cap.  et  seq. 

149.  I  cannot  proieA  mine  owne  cause]  Warburton  :  *  Project*  signifies  to 
invent  a  cause,  not  io  plead  it ;  which  is  the  sense  here  required.  It  is  plain  that  we 
should  read,  proctor.  The  technical  term,  to  plead  by  an  advocate. — ^Johnson  : 
Hanmer  reads :  •  I  cannot  parget  my  own  cause — .*  Meaning,  I  cannot  whitewash^ 
vamishy  or  gloss  tdlj  cause.  I  believe  the  present  reading  to  be  right  To  project  a 
cause  is  to  represent  a  cause  ;  to  project  it  well^  is  to  plan  or  contrive  a  scheme  of 
defence. — Heath  (p.  466) :  To  project  is  properly  a  term  of  perspective,  signifying 
to  represent  an  object  truly,  according  to  the  rules  of  that  art.  Hence  it  is  applied 
metaphorically  to  denote  a  representation  of  any  kind  whatever.  So  that  the  sense 
is,  I  am  not  capable  of  stating  my  own  cause  in  so  favourable  a  light,  as  to  free 
myself  from  all  blame. — Steevens  :  *  Project '  may  certainly  be  right  Sir  John 
Harrington,  in  his  Metamorphosis  of  AjaXy  1596,  says — *  I  am  not  only  groundedly 
studied  in  the  reformation  of  Ajax,  which  I  have  chosen  for  the  project  of  this  dis- 
course.'— [p.  95,  ed.  Singer.] — Malone:  In  Much  Ado,  we  find  these  lines:  *She 
cannot  love,  Nor  take  no  shape  not  project  oi  affection,  She  is  so  self-endear'd.* — [III, 
't  59*]  I  cannot  project,  etc.  means,  therefore,  I  cannot  shape  or  form  my  cause, 
etc. — [Heath's  interpretation,  which  is  also,  in  fact,  Johnson's,  seems  to  be  the  best 
—Ed.] 


350  '^^^   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v,  sc.  iL 

If  you  apply  your  felfe  to  our  intents,  155 

Which  towards  you  are  mod  gentle,  you  (hall  finde 

A  benefit  in  this  change  :  but  if  you  feeke 

To  lay  on  me  a  Cruelty,  by  taking 

Anthonies  courfe,  you  (hall  bereaue  your  felfe 

Of  my  good  purpofes,  and  put  your  children  160 

To  that  deftruflion  which  He  guard  them  from, 

If  thereon  you  relye.     He  take  my  leaue. 

Cleo.hxiA  may  through  all  the  world  :  tis  yours,  &  we 
your  Scutcheons,  and    your  fignes  of  Conqueft  (hall 
Hang  in  what  place  you  pleafe.     Here  my  good  Lord.  165 

CcBfar.     You  (hall  aduife  me  in  all  for  Cleopatra. 

Cleo.     This  is  the  breefe  :  of  Money,  Plate,  &  Jewels 
I  am  poffeft  of,  ^tis  exaflly  valewed,  168 

158.  Cruelty^   by\    cruelty   by    Pope,  165.  Lord,'\  lord^ —  Ktly. 

Han.  Cam.  x66.  in  all  for]  of  all  Rowe  ii.  Pope. 

1$^,  your  felfe]  you  felfe  ¥^.  i6t  ,  breefe  :  of ]  briefs  :  of  ¥ ^,    brief: 

162.  leaue.]  leave —  Var.  *73.  of  F^F^,  Rowe.     brief  of  Pope  et  seq. 

163.  yours,]  yours ;  Theob.  et  seq.  168.  of]  of—  Pope,+.     of;  Cap.  et 

1 64.  your  Scutcheons]  Your  Scutcheons  seq. 

Ff.  valewed]  valued  F  F^. 

165.  Here]  Hear,  Coll.  iii. 

166.  You  shaU  aduise  me  in  all  for  Cleopatra]  M alone  :  You  shall  yourself 
be  my  counsellor,  and  suggest  whatever  you  wish  to  be  done  for  your  relief.  So, 
afterwards :  '  For  we  intend  so  to  dispose  you,  as  Yourself  shall  give  us  counsel.' 
[lines  219,  220.] 

167.  This  is  the  breefe,  etc.]  von  Friesen  (iii,  256)  :  Cleopatra's  determination 
to  shut  herself  up  in  her  Monument,  and  have  her  death  announced  to  Anthony  is  a 
step  concerning  which  it  is  difficult  to  decide  whether  it  was  prompted  by  a  sudden 
prudence  in  retiring  before  the  bitter  reproaches  of  Antony,  or  an  artistic  stroke  of 
fresh  coquetterie.  But  when  there  followed  upon  it  an  unexpected  issue  and  Antony 
had  committed  suicide,  I  am  convinced  that  Cleopatra  was  smitten  with  a  love  for 
the  dying  and  for  the  dead  hero,  deeper  and,  possibly,  more  overwhelming  than  ever 
she  had  felt  for  him  when  alive.  Hereupon,  she  reveals  in  her  opposition  to  Octavius 
all  the  versatility  of  her  shrewdness  and  dissimulation.  Plutarch,  justly  enough, 
does  not  record  that  she  contemplated  enmeshing  Octavius  in  her  charms.  This 
repulsive  legend,  started  by  the  historians  after  Plutarch's  time,  Shakespeare  could 
not,  therefore,  have  intended,  even  in  the  remotest  degree,  to  have  recalled.  On  the 
contrary  her  deportment  toward  the  Emperor  from  the  moment  of  his  sending  Thyreus 
to  her  displays  the  keenest  shrewdness.  In  this  respect,  her  interview  with  him  is  a 
model.  .  .  .  From  the  very  instant  that  she  learned  the  Emperor's  decision  to  carry 
her  as  a  prisoner  to  Rome  to  grace  his  triumph,  her  resolve  to  take  her  own  life  was 
6xed  and  immovable.  For  what  other  purpose,  forsooth,  was  the  presentation  to 
Octavius  of  the  brief  of  her  treasures  and  the  summons  to  Seleucus  to  testify  to  her 
conscientious  statement  ? 


ACT  V,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  351 

Not  petty  things  admitted.     Where's  Seleucus  ? 

Sieleu.     Heere  Madam.  170 

Cleo.     This  is  my  Treafurer,  let  him  fpeake  (my  Lord) 
Vpon  his  perill,  that  I  haue  referu'd 
To  my  felfe  nothing.     Speake  the  truth  Seleucus, 

Seleu.  Madam^  I  had  rather  feele  my  lippes. 
Then  to  my  perill  fpeake  that  which  is  not.  175 

Cleo.     What  haue  I  kept  backe. 

SeL    Enough  to  purchafe  what  you  haue  made  known 

CcB/ar.     Nay  blufh  not  Cleopatra^  I  approue 
Your  Wifedome  in  the  deede. 

Cleo.     See  Ccefar  :  Oh  behold,  1 80 

169.  admitted, '\     admitted —     Pope.  Han.  Cap.  et  seq. 

omitted —  Tbeob.  Han.  Warb.  Cap.  174.  feele'\  F,.    j^^/ Johns.  Vair.  Mai. 

Where' s\  Whereas  F^F^.  Ran.  Stecv.  Varr.  Sing.  Ktly.   feale  F^. 

169-21 1.     Where's  ,..pittied'\      Om.  feal  ¥ ^  ti  cti. 

Kemble.  176.  backe."]  bcukt  F^F^  et  seq. 

174.  Madam]  Om.    Han.  180.  See,., behold^Casar ! behold Yi^Xi, 

174, 175.  I  had., .perill]  Separate  line,  Caefar :]  Ccesar!  Rowe  et  seq. 

168,  169.  'tis  eza<5tly  valewed.  Not  petty  things  admitted]  Theobald: 
Sagacious  editors  !  Cleopatra  gives  in  a  list  of  her  wealth,  says,  'tis  exactly  valued  ; 
but  that  petty  things  are  not  admitted  in  this  list :  and  then  she  appeals  to  her  treas- 
urer, that  she  has  reserved  nothing  to  herself.  And  when  he  betrays  her,  she  is 
reduced  to  the  shift  of  exclaiming  against  the  ingratitude  of  servants,  and  of  making 
apologies  for  having  secreted  certain  trifles.  Who  does  not  see,  that  we  ought  to 
read:  'Not  petty  things  (^mtV/ir^//*  For  this  declaration  lays  open  her  falsehood; 
and  makes  her  angry,  when  her  treasurer  detects  her  in  a  direct  lie. — ^Johnson  :  Not- 
withstanding the  wrath  of  Theobald,  I  have  restored  the  old  reading.  She  is  angry 
afterwards,  that  she  is  accused  of  having  reserved  more  than  petty  things. — [In  the 
corresponding  passage  in  Plutarch,  Cleopatra  says,  *  though  it  may  be  I  have  reserved 
some  jewels  and  trifles  meet  for  women,*  etc. — Ed.] — Abbott  (J  377)  :  The  parti- 
ciple is  often  used  to  express  a  condition,  where,  for  perspicuity  we  should  now  mostly 
insert  if.  Thus  here  the  meaning  is,  'exactly,  if  petty  things  be  excepted.' — [See 
III,  xii,  17.] 

174.  I  had  rather  seele  my  lippes]  Johnson  :  Sew  up  my  mouth. — Steevens  : 
It  means  close  up  my  lips  as  efiectually  as  the  eyes  of  a  hawk  are  closed.  To  seel 
hawks  was  the  technical  term. — Coluer  (ed.  i)  :  The  commentators  have  under- 
stood an  allusion  to  seeling  the  eyes  of  a  hawk  ;  but  the  common  expression  of  sealing 
the  lips  requires  no  such  explanation. — Singer  :  But  the  poet  is  very  fond  of  such 
allusions  [to  hawking],  and  there  is  surely  no  reason  for  printing  seal,  and  thus  sub- 
stituting a  word  not  authorised  by  the  old  copy  which  always  prints  the  latter  word 
seal  or  seale. — Dyce  (ed.  ii)  :  In  HI,  xiii,  137,  we  have  'the  wise  gods  seele  our 
eyes,'  etc.  But  here  the  spelling  of  the  Folio  goes  for  little;  in  Lear^  IV,  vi,  168, 
the  Folio  has  *  the  power  to  seale  th*  accusers  lips  *  ;  and  in  2  Hen.  VI:  I,  ii,  89, 
•  Seale  vp  your  Lips.* — Staunton  :  To  seal  one*  s  lips  was  a  familiar  expression  ages 
before  Shakespeare  lived. 


352  THE   TRACED  IE   OF  [act  v,  sc.  ii. 

How  pompe  is  followed  :  Mine  will  now  be  yours,  i8i 

And  fhould  we  fhift  eftates,  yours  would  be  mine. 

The  ingratitude  of  this  Seleucus^  does 

Euen  make  me  wilde.     Oh  Slaue,  of  no  more  truft 

Then  loue  that's  hyr'd  ?  What  goeft  thou  backe,  y  (halt         185 

Go  backe  I  warrant  thee  :  but  He  catch  thine  eyes 

Though  they  had  wings.    Slaue,  Soule-leffe,  Villain,  Dog. 

O  rarely  bafe  I 

CcB/ar.     Good  Queene,  let  vs  intreat  you. 

Cleo,     O  Cce/arj  what  a  wounding  fhame  is  this,  190 

That  thou  vouchfafing  heere  to  vifit  me. 
Doing  the  Honour  of  thy  Lordlinefle 
To  one  fo  meeke,  that  mine  owne  Seruant  fhould  193 

181.  followed '[foiioTv'd  Pope  et  seq.  187.   SouJe-UJfe,  VUlain,']  stml-Uu  vil- 

184.  Euen^  Ev'ti  Pope,  +  .  lain^  Pope  et  seq. 

185.  hyf'd?'\  hir'd.  Rowc,Pope,  Han.  Villain'l  ViUian  Rowe  i. 
hif^d^  Theob.   Warb.  Johns,     hir'd!            188.  [Striking  him.  Johns,     flying  at 
Cap.  et  seq.  him.  Cap. 

lVkat'\  What!  Coll.  Wh.  Ktly,  189.   [interposing.  Cap. 

Hal.  193.  nteeke\  weak  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 

backe ^'\  back  f  Rowe  ii  et  seq.  mean  Cap.  Ran. 
y\  thou  Yi, 

184.  Oh  Slaue,  of  no  more  trust,  etc.]  Stahr  (p.  270) :  This  little  comedy, 
pre-arranged  and  agreed  upon,  between  her  and  her  faithful  treasurer  is  a  master- 
stroke of  the  bold  lady,  which  completely  attains  the  purpose  for  which  it  was 
designed. — [It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say,  I  think,  that  the  historian  of  Qeopatra  has 
made  us  all  his  debtors  by  this  keen-sighted  interpretation  of  the  Queen's  outrageous 
treatment  of  Seleucus.  It  is  a  relief  to  be  freed  from  the  necessity  of  finding  excuses 
for  what  we  now  see  to  be  simulated  rage. — Ed.] 

185,  186.  What  goest  thou  backe,  .  .  .  thee]  Dkighton  :  What  (said  as  she 
advances  to  strike  him),  do  you  retreat  before  me  ?  you*  11  be  ready  enough,  I  warrant, 
to  desert  me  ;  *  Go  back '  being  used  in  the  literal  and  the  figurative  sense.  In  the 
latter  sense  Schmidt  takes  the  phrase  here  as  equivalent  to  *  be  worsted, ' — [Very  few 
readers,  I  think,  will  detect  any  *  figurative  sense '  here,  or  any  equivalent  to  being 
'worsted.' — Ed.] 

18S.  O  rarely  base]  Steevens  :  That  is,  base  to  an  uncommon  degree. 

193.  To  one  so  meeke]  Theobald  :  Surely  Cleopatra  must  be  bantering  Caesar, 
to  call  herself  <  meek,'  when  he  had  the  moment  before  seen  her  fly  at  her  Treasurer, 
and  wishing  to  tear  out  his  eyes.  I  correct,  weak,  that  is,  so  shrunk  in  fortune  and 
Dowcr.  Besides,  she  might  allude  to  her  bodily  decay.  See  Plutarch. — [The  fore- 
going note  with  its  emendation  is  not  repeated  in  any  of  the  Variorums,  and  was, 
therefore,  unknown  to  Walker,  when  (Crt/.  ii,  300)  among  a  number  of  instances 
where  m  and  w  are  confounded,  he  also  suggested  weak,  in  the  present  line.] — 
Capell  (i,  50) :  That  *meek '  is  corrupt,  is  assented  to  readily;  but  not  the  word 
'tis  amended  by  [by  Theobald],  weak  is  ambiguous,  and  therefore  improper;  and 


ACT  V.  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA 


353 


Parcel!  the  fumme  of  my  difgraces,  by 

Addition  of  his  Enuy.     Say  (good  Ca/ar) 

That  I  fome  Lady  trifles  haue  referuM, 

Immoment  toyes,  things  of  fuch  Dignitie 

As  we  greet  moderne  Friends  withall,  and  fay 

Some  Nobler  token  I  haue  kept  apart 

For  Uuia  and  06lauiay  to  induce 

Their  mediation,  muft  I  be  vnfolded 

With  one  that  I  haue  bred  :  The  Gods !  it  fmites  me 

Beneath  the  fall  I  haue.     Prythee  go  hence, 

Or  I  fhall  fhew  the  Cynders  of  my  fpirits 

Through  th'Afhes  of  my  chance  :  Wer't  thou  a  man, 


195 


200 


205 


195.  Enuy,'\  Envy  !  F^F^  ct  scq. 

196.  Lady  tri/l^s]  Lady-trifles  Fr, 
Rowe, +  ,  Coll. 

198.  wUhaily'\  withal;  Theob.  et  seq. 

201.  mediation^']  F^,  Coll.  Wh.  Hal. 
meditation^  ^3^4*  fnediaiion  ?  Var.  *2I, 
mediation  ;  Cap.  et  cet. 

202.  With'\  By  Rowe  ii,  +  ,  Var.  '73. 
of  Cap. 

bred :^  bred  ?  Rowe  et  seq. 
The  Gods']   Ye  gods  Coll.  ii,  iii 
(MS),  Sing.  Ktly. 


203.  [To  Seleucus.  Johns. 
Prythee]  Preihee  ¥(, 

204.  /pirits]  spirit  Walker,  Coll.  MS, 
Ktly,  Huds. 

205.  th'Aykes]  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Coll. 
Sing.  Wh.  Dyce  ii,  iii,  Ktly,  Hal.  the 
ashes  Cap.  et  cet. 

my  chance]  mischance  Han.  Coll. 
ii,  iii  (MS),  my  change  Walker,  my 
glance  Ingleby,  Huds. 

Wer't]  PYert  Rowe. 


mean,  a  word  as  near  it  in  characters,  bids  fairer  to  be  the  true  one,  from  its  oppo- 
sition to  '  lordliness '  in  the  same  sentence. — Malone  :  *  Meek,'  I  suppose,  means 
here  tame. — [I  suppose  that  *  meek  *  here  means  meeh, — the  very  quality  that  Cleo- 
patra would  claim  for  herself,  especially  when  she  least  deserved  it. — Ed.] 

194.  Parcell  the  summe  of  my  disgraces]  Johnson  :  To  parcel  her  disgraces, 
might  be  expressed  in  vulgar  language,  to  bundle  up  her  calamities. — Malone  :  The 
meaning,  I  think,  either  is,  *  that  this  fellow  should  add  one  more  parcel  or  item  to 
the  sum  of  my  disgraces,  namely,  his  own  malice ' ;  or  <  that  this  fellow  should  lot  up 
the  sum  of  my  disgraces,  and  add  his  own  malice  to  the  account.* — [Dyce  adopts, 
in  his  Glossary,  this  note  of  Malone.] 

195.  Enuy]  That  is,  malice ;  see  Shakespeare,  passim. 

198.  moderne]  That  is,  common,  every  day  ;  see  Shakespeare,  passim. 
,    201,  202.  vnfolded  With  one  ]  For  other  instances  where  '  with*  is  equivalent 
to  by,  see  Abbott,  §  193  ;  or  Franz,  §  383. 

202.  The  Gods]  Collier  (ed.  ii) :  Another  instance  of  old  misprinting,  *  The* 
for  Ye,  owing  to  the  mistake  of  the  abbreviation  y*  :  we  derive  the  change  from  the 
MS. — Dyce  (ed.  ii) :  But  compare,  *0  me,  the  gods,*  Coriolanus,  II,  iii;  O  the 
gods/*  Tro.  6r*  Cress.,  IV,  ii ;  Coriolanus,  IV,  i ;  Cymb.^  I,  i ;  *0  the  blest  gods  f* 
Lear,  II,  iv;  and  *0  the  good  gods  /*  in  this  present  scene,  line  266. 

204,  205.  Cynders  of  my  spirits  Through  th' Ashes  of  my  chance,  etc.] 
Theobald:  She  considers  herself,  in  her  downfall,  as  a  fabric  destroyed  by  fire; 

23 


354  ^^^   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  v,  sen. 

Thou  would'fl  haue  mercy  on  me.  206 

Ca/ar.     Forbeare  Stlcucus. 

dec.  Be  it  known,  that  we  the  greatefl  are  mif-thoght 
For  things  that  others  do  :  and  when  we  &1I, 
We  anfwer  others  merits,  in  our  name  210 

Are  therefore  to  be  pittied. 


907.   [Exit  Sekocns.  Cape  ct  seq.  Johns.  Vv.  ^73.    mmswer  atker^ 

ao&.  /?/•</]  ^VFt^^^,  Dycexi  in.         in  omr  mmame  Are  Cm^     atrmer  eikrr^ 


210,  211.  an/wT 4re^  FY.     oKswrr         wmeriis  im  emr  mama.  Are  Var.  '78,  'S5, 

ttkm  fnrrics^  im  eur  m^imes  j4re  Rowe,         Ran.    cmsmer  ^hrri  wmrriiiim 


Fofse^  Thcot^  i.     etintter  czhrrf  nurri^^         And  CoIL  in.     amswerin^  tak^rf  meritj 
im  mtr  n4tmes  Are  Tkcob.  21.     pamder         in   cmr  some.   Are   Bulloch. 


takers  fmeriis  vntk  tmr  mameji^  And  Han.  cdktr^  mrrits  im  emr  mame^  Are  MaL  et 
tmsver  etthrrf  fmeriis  im  emtr  nanus  .*  Are         ceL 

mnd  diea  wcmld  rotnnate  tbat  tttt  same  tar  has  reduced  her  ^siits  too  to  iludeiv ; 
».  f.  crtttsmned  the  stren^di  and  d^nitr  of  her  soul  and  mind.  Warbanon  ihssks» 
tibe  poet  wrot^  * Throogh  the  ashes  ctf  my  cierix.' — £This  rmmdatioa  WarhariKB 
did  not  soggfcst  in  his  schseqneni  edition.  It  is,  therefon,  qpoa  to  hope,  that  he 
withdrew  ii,} — ^MiTltRAY  (X.  E.  D.  s.  r.  Chance,  5.)  :  That  which  befalls  a  penoB; 
(one^s)  hap,  fortune,  lodu  lot. — jf^  e  have  aiready  had  in  *  die  wonnded  c^txg  of 
Anthony  ^  (IIL,  x,  49  v,  a  nse  of  *  chance  ^  cranly  parallel  to  the  present.  *  Chance  * 
then!  meant  fortmne^  iof^  And  here  it  nteans^  the  same.  *  Thnn^  the  ashes  of  her 
fomme,  the  embers  of  her  spirit  air  still  i^lowin^.'  In  due  sme  Hne,  where  Qeopatia 
says  \T^eT*t  thon  a  man,*  she  implies  the  knowledge  dat  Seleocos  was  a  emadL 
— ^Er>.] 

904.  ^»liits]  5«ee  I,  ii,  145,  with  its  protest  against  'Walker's  znonosyQahic  pro> 
nonciation  of  *  spirit.' 

2<y^-2i  1 .  when  we  ihll,  TP^e  Mia^wci  others  ixient&.  in  our  name  Are  tbere- 
fbre  to  be  phtied]  Wahbitrto^'  :  The  liiKS  should  be  pomted  thos : — *  And  vhea 
wc  fall  "^'^^  answer.  Otbtffs'  merits,  in  om^  names  Arc  therefore  to  be  pitied.*  That 
ts,  •  wh<?n  any  misfortune  hath  so:»iected  ns  to  the  "pi^ifmrT  of  onr  enemies,  we  aae  sore 
to  he  punished  for  tha«te  isults.  A«  this  is  the  case,  it  is  hot  reasonable  &at  we 
should  h&vr  the  merit  of  onr  mini<teri:'  gnod  acticms.  as  well  as  bear  the  blame  cf 
their  bad.'  Bm  she  soften>  the  weird  mr'if  into  J*ii}.  The  reason  of  her  *it»Hti^ 
the  rcflfTcion  was  th;s  :  Tier  former  conduct  was  liable  to  mnch  censure  imm 
Octavius.  which  sh<^  WAuld  heirby  artt'uliy  insinuate  was  owing;  to  her  evil  ministenL 
And  a*,  her  nrr^ent  conduct,  in  cnnrealin^  hrr  trextiUTes,  appeared  to  be  her  own  act, 
she  beinfj  defected  by  her  minist«»T,  she  he^,  that  a>  sne  now  aui!>weib  for  hff 
former  mmf^iTef^  miscarr»aj*t*^,  «»  her  present  minister'*^  men:  in  this  discoverr, 
likewKr  be  p]ftce«l  tn  her  arcoiml :  "Wnich  she  thinks  but  reasonable. 
( p.  46^  I  :  'Hm:  i^  'VN'c,  who  air  in  possession  of  the  sapieme  power,  «ie  iD  tho^tf 
of  for  funlts  committef'.  bv  others,  without  our  direction  or  knowledge;  snd, 
are  stripped  €>i  this  p->vk-er,  are  oblifred  to  answer  in  oar  own  nainK  for  what 
othe»^  oofjht  in  iuslicr  to  answer  for  themselves.  Theretore  we  are  to  he  pitied.  I 
conceive  thT.  this  rer^ection  of  Cleopatra  is  incetided  to  insinuate,  thai  the  debcieDcy 
in  the  inventor}*  oqghi  to  be  tmnuted  to  Seleocas  her  accaaer,  and  not  to  hecKif; 


ACTV,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  355 

Ccefar.     Cleopatra  ^  212 

Not  what  you  haue  referuM,  nor  what  acknowledged 
Put  we  i'th'Roll  of  Conqueft  :  ftill  bee't  yours, 
Beftow  it  at  your  pleafure,  and  beleeue  215 

Cafars  no  Merchant,  to  make  prize  with  you 
Of  things  that  Merchants  fold.     Therefore  be  cheered,  217 

214.  Put  wi^  Put  me  Rowe,  Pope.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Ktly.     be  it  Cap. 

t'M»]  Ff,  Rowe,  +  ,  Wh.     Vthe  et  cet. 

Cap.  et  cet.  216.  prize"]  price  Anon.  ap.  Cam. 

be/t]  Ff.     be't  Rowe,  +  ,  Sing.  217.  foid]  Aold  Anon,  ap.  Cam. 

and  that  he  therefore  was  properly  answerable  for  it.  I  would  beg  leaye  to  add, 
that  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  Sbakespear  gave  us  the  third  line  thus.  And  atutver 
others  merits  in  our  names  ;  which  renders  the  construction  more  explicit  and  per- 
spicuous.— [Collier's  MS  marked  the  same  change  from*  Are*  to  And,  'Very 
unnecessarily,'  says  Dyce  (ed.  ii) :  *  In  the  last  clause  of  a  sentence  Shakespeare 
(like  other  old  writers)  sometimes  omits  "and.'**] — Capell  (i,  51):  The  reflec- 
tions contain' d  in  this  speech  are  perfectly  just,  and  their  wording  as  dear  as  their 
intention;  which  is — to  exculpate  the  speaker,  not  in  what  has  recently  happen*d, 
but  her  political  behaviour  in  general :  Nothing  then  is  hard  to  conceive,  but  the 
consequence  drawn  from  these  premises, — *  in  our  name  Are  therefore  to  be  pity*d*; 
and  the  single  difficulty  there,  lyes  in — *  name '  .•  But  how  often  is  name  put  for — 
title?  and  here  with  great  energy :  as  importing — that  greatness  and  dignities,  high 
and  swelling  titles,  were  mere  vanities  and  a  name  only  ;  rather  worthy  of  pity  than 
envy,  by  reason  of  it's  servants*  abuses,  and  the  ruin  it  often  suffers  through  them. — 
Johnson  :  '  We  suffer  at  our  highest  state  of  elevation  in  the  thoughts  of  mankind 
for  that  which  others  do;  and  when  we  fall,  those  that  contented  themselves  only 
to  think  ill  before,  call  us  to  answer  in  our  own  names  for  the  merits  of  others.  We 
are  therefore  to  be  pitied.*  Merits  is  in  this  place  taken  in  an  ill  sense,  for  actions 
meriting  censure. — M.  Mason  :  The  plain  meaning  is  this  :  *  The  greatest  of  us  are 
aspersed  for  things  which  others  do  ;  and  when,  by  the  decline  of  our  ]x>wer,  we 
become  in  a  condition  to  be  questioned,  we  are  called  to  answer  in  our  own  names 
for  the  actions  of  other  people.*  Merit  is  here  used,  as  the  word  desert  frequently 
is,  to  express  a  certain  degree  of  merit  or  demerit.  A  man  may  merit  punishment 
as  well  as  reward. — M alone  :  As  demerits  was  often  used,  in  Shakspeare*s  time,  as 
synonymous  to  merit,  so  merit  might  have  been  used  in  the  sense  which  we  now 
affix  to  demerit ;  or  the  meaning  may  be  only,  we  are  called  to  account,  and  to  answer 
in  our  own  names  for  acts,  with  which  others,  rather  than  we,  deserve  to  be  chaiged. 
— [From  Capell's  crabbed  English  (Dr  Johnson,  using  Prospero's  language  in 
reference  to  Caliban,  said  that  if  Capell  had  only  come  to  him,  he  would  'have 
endowed  his  purposes  with  words*)  I  can  extract  more  light  than  from  any  of  the 
other  interpretations,  and,  in  addition,  his  version  conforms  closely  to  the  Folio. 
The  real  difficulty  lies,  as  he  says,  in  the  word  *  name,'  which  here,  I  think,  means 
eminence,  greatness  (as  in  other  instances  which  Schmidt's  Lexicon  will  supply). 
The  passage,  then,  may  be  paraphrased  :  *  When  we,  the  great  ones  of  earth,  fail, 
it  is  not  through  our  own  fault,  but  through  that  of  others,  our  subordinates;  for  the 
very  eminence  of  our  position,  therefore,  we  are  to  be  pitied.' — Ed.] 


356 


THE   TRACE  DIE   OF 


[act  V,  sc.  ii. 


Make  not  your  thoughts  your  prifons  :  No  deere  Queen, 

For  we  intend  fo  to  difpofe  you,  as 

Your  felfe  (hall  giue  vs  counfell  :  Feede,and  fleepe : 

Our  care  and  pitty  is  fo  much  vpon  you, 

That  we  remaine  your  Friend,  and  fo  adieu. 

Cleo,     My  Mafter,and  my  Lord, 

Cce/ar.     Not  fo  :  Adieu.  Flaurijh. 

Exeunt  CcBfar ,  and  his  Traine. 

Cleo.     He  words  me  Gyrles,  he  words  me. 
That  I  fhould  not  be  Noble  to  my  felfe. 
But  hearke  thee  Charmian. 

Iras.     Finifh  good  Lady,  the  bright  day  is  done. 
And  we  are  for  the  darke. 

Cleo.     Hye  thee  againe, 
I  haue  fpoke  already,  and  it  is  prouided. 
Go  put  it  to  the  hade. 


218 


220 


225 


230 


233 


218.  prifons\  poison  Han.  i,  Johns, 
conj.  prison  Han.  ii,  Dyce  conj. 
Ktly. 

223.  Lord,'\lordy — Cap.  lord  I  Wax. 
'73  et  seq. 

224.  Flourifli.]  Om.  Ff. 

225.  Scene  V.  (misprint  for  IV.)  Pope, 
Warb.  Johns.     Scene  IV.  Han. 

226-228.  /]^<r...Channian]  Two  lines, 
dividing  at  not^  Han.  Cap.  et  seq. 
228.  Charmian]  Charmion  Johns. 


228.  [Whispers  Char.  Theob.  et  seq. 
To  this  whisper,  Char,  replies,  *The 
aspics,  Madam?'  Kemble. 

229.  Lady^  lady,  Johns,  lady;  Cap. 
et  seq. 

231.  againe\  amain  Theob.  cx)nj. 
(withdrawn.) 

232.  I  haue]  Pve  Pope,+,  Dyce  ii, 
in. 

233.  Go  put]  Go^  put  Cap.  Steev. 
Varr.  Knt,  Coll.  Sing.  Wh.  Sta.  KUy. 


218.  Make  not  your  thoug^hts  your  prisons]  Johnson  :  I  once  wished  to 
read — *  Make  not  your  thoughts  yovi  poison — *  :  Do  not  destroy  yourself  by  musing 
on  3rour  misfortune.  Yet  I  would  change  nothing,  as  the  old  reading  presents  a  very 
proper  sense.  *  Be  not  a  prisoner  in  imagination,  when  in  reality  you  are  free. — 
[Johnson  suggested  poison,  wherein  he  was  anticipated  by  Hanmer  ed.  i.  Dyce 
suggested  prison,  wherein  he  was  anticipated  by  Hanmer,  ed.  ii. — Ed.] 

232.  and  it  is  prouided]  Theobald  :  Freinshemius  has  obsenred,  upon  a  pas- 
sage in  Quintus  Curtius,  that  your  best  writers  very  often  leave  some  things  to  be 
understood  from  the  consequence  and  implication  of  words,  which  the  words  them- 
selves do  not  express.  Our  author  observes  this  conduct  here.  Cleopatra  most  be 
supposed  to  mean,  she  has  spoke  for  the  asp,  and  it  is  provided,  tho*  she  says  not  a 
word  of  it  in  direct  terms. — Capell  (i,  51) :  The  Poet's  art  in  this  place  is  worth 
noting:  'it'  relates  covertly  to  the  asp  which  she  afterwards  dies  by;  but  her 
further  directions  about  it,  are  convey* d  in  a  whisper, — *  But  hark  thee,  Charmian'; 
which  had  they  been  openly  given,  a  main  grace  of  the  incident  that  presently  fol- 
lows had  been  taken  away  from  it,  that  is — it's  novelty. 


ACTV,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  357 

Char.     Madam^  I  will. 

Eiiter  Dolabella.  235 

DoL     Where's  the  Queene  ? 

Char,     Behold  fir. 

Cleo,     Dolabella, 

DoL     Madam^  as  thereto  fwome,  by  your  command 
(  Which  my  loue  makes  Religion  to  obey  )  240 

I  tell  you  this  :  Ccsfar  through  Syria 
Intends  his  iourney,  and  within  three  dayes, 
You  with  your  Children  will  he  fend  before, 
Make  your  beft  vfe  of  this.     I  haue  performM 
Your  pleafure,  and  my  promife.  245 

Cleo,     Dolabellay  I  fhall  remaine  your  debten 

DoL     I  your  Seruant  : 
Adieu  good  Queene,  I  muft  attend  on  Ccefar.  Exit 

Cleo.     Farewell,  and  thankes. 
Now  Iras  J  what  think'ft  thou  ?  250 

Thou,  an  Egyptian  Puppet  fhall  be  fhewne 

234.  [Exit  Charmian.  Theob.  +  .    go-  243.  before^'\  before ;  Rowe  ii  et  seq. 

ing.  Cap.  (subs.) 

236.  Where  5\  Where  is  Pope  et  seq.  246.  Dolabella,]  Separate  line,  Pope 

237.  Char.]  Iras.  Han.  et  seq. 

[Exit  Char.  Cap.  et  seq.  249,  250.  Farewell, *,ihou  /]  Ff,  Cap. 

238.  Dolabella.]  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope.  One  line,  Rowe  et  seq. 
Dolabella  !  Theob.  Han.  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  25 1 .  Jhall  ]  Jhalt  Ff. 
Cam.     Dolabella  ?  Cap.  ct  cet. 

250,  etc.  Now  Iras,  etc.]  Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  152)  :  But  though  Geopatra  talks 
of  dying  *■  after  the  high  Roman  fashion,'  she  fears  what  she  most  desires,  and  cannot 
perform  with  simplicity  what  costs  her  such  an  effort.  That  extreme  physical  coward- 
ice, which  was  so  strong  a  trait  in  her  historical  character,  which  led  to  the  defeat 
of  Actium,  which  made  her  delay  the  execution  of  a  fatal  resolve  till  she  had  '  tried 
conclusions  infinite  of  easy  ways  to  die,'  Shakespeare  has  rendered  with  the  finest 
possible  effect,  and  in  a  manner  which  heightens  instead  of  diminishing  our  respect 
and  interest.  Timid  by  nature,  she  is  courageous  by  the  mere  force  of  will,  and  she 
lashes  herself  up  with  high-sounding  words  into  a  kind  of  false  daring.  Her  lively 
imagination  suggests  every  incentive  which  can  spur  her  on  to  the  deed  she  has 
resolved,  yet  trembles  to  contemplate.  She  pictures  to  herself  all  the  degradations 
which  must  attend  her  captivity  ;  and  let  it  be  observed,  that  those  which  she  antici- 
pates are  precisely  such  as  a  vain,  luxurious,  and  haughty  woman  would  especially 
dread,  and  which  only  true  virtue  and  magnanimity  could  despise.  Cleopatra  could 
have  endured  the  loss  of  freedom  ;  but  to  be  led  in  triumph  through  the  streets  of 
Rome  is  insufferable.  She  could  stoop  to  Csesar  with  dissembling  courtesy,  and  meet 
duplicity  with  superior  art;  but  'to  be  chastised'  by  the  scornful  or  upbraiding 
glance  of  the  injured  Octavia — *  rather  a  ditch  in  Egypt ! ' 


353  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  v,  sc.  iL 

In  Rome  afwell  as  I  :  Mechanicke  Slaues  252 

With  greazie  Aprons,  Rules,  and  Hammers  fhall 

Vplift  vs  to  the  view.     In  their  thicke  breathes, 

Ranke  of  grofle  dyet,  fhall  we  be  enclowded,  255 

And  forcM  to  drinke  their  N'apour. 

Iras.     The  Gods  forbid. 

CUiK     Nay,  *tis  moil  certaine  Iras  :  iawcie  Ii£lors 
Will  catch  at  \-s  like  Strumpets,  and  fcald  Rimers 
Ballads  N-s  out  a  Tune.     The  quicke  Comedians  260 

Extcmporally  \^*ill  ^^^  vs,and  prefent 
Our  Alexandrian  Reuels  :  AntkaKj 
Shall  be  brv>ught  drunken  fortlu  and  I  (hall  fee 
Some  K)ueaktng  Cl^^f^atra  Boy  m}*  greatneue  264 


>40busr}^  ^,xa2rVF  F^.R^Mnfc.I^3pCi.         KiIt.     im^  r'  Samt  Has.  c 


^^^  4iMk»  tla«9r  T«5««cr]  Vn^i^^T    X  j^.  J".  .-.  7  r^rai,  I-  Tr 


i^  ^^   *««««  iJAoes  Wit  JTifttY  JC  ^rt^  XTtUkT    X  ,£.  T.  z.  t.  Odc^ 

:iht  -  «^fjpr»trs^  '  m'>ii,''>.  i<  tittmrulSi  iv  «iiiwr?r-n:  tmt  Bsgs^an^  l^  tbt  i^neasE.     Lor 

"imi^niMiiWirfc.  w^  ihr  -simr^  lunnr^  — Til.  ; 

^^  ^tii^tol^''    T'lffWA       \    ^mt.   of  rjnuenm;.  laui^iiju^  iwtsrr.   djaene.  nifl 

'*^^^lv^    >v«t  tnw*f>».  "r-z^fi*?".  mthi^  Jhar-^nn- — .ICti^JiKi     Tut  i'wts^c  jrwan?«t.  «B.t^ 

^Kd    <4^<ir  -XlviwniXrNir.  ll^«uscllt'"  >»  nntt  ra.    retmV^   X  ?^.  T.  soil  Ater  H  vs. 
^^» 

>^    «NMivf^»  ^wp«r  •k'^'w    m  Ihr  <»-a$r*  Ir   hrres.. — ^"jrwili",  it  tnr  JCwtrir  im. 
fwM^fvi: .  nm!  iHr   m»i«»ii«v   »"   *^*»   ^*^   ''^^    <'*  ^smnr  Ctt•nnam^•ilm■  msai^  ^hss 


ACTV,  sc.  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  359 

I'th'pofture  of  a  Whore.  265 

Iras.     O  the  good  Gods  ! 

Cleo.     Nay  that^s  certaine. 

Iras.     He  neuer  fee't  ?  for  I  am  fure  mine  Nailes 
Are  ftronger  then  mine  eyes. 

Cleo.     Why  that's  the  way  to  foole  their  preparation^         270 
And  to  conquer  their  moft  abfurd  intents. 

265.  /*M'] /*M^  Cap.  et  seq.  270-273. /'i3;/^tfi5f...Charmian.]  As  three 

266.  Gods  /]  gods  forbid  !  Words.  lines,  ending  way,  ^conquer, . .  Charmian, 

267.  thatW\  that  is  Steev.  Varr.  Knt,         Rowe  et  seq. 

Coll.  Wh.  Ktly,  Hal.    but  that's  Words.  270.  foole\  foil  Coll.  MS. 

268.  fee't  ]  Ff,  Rowe,  Cap.  Dyce,  Sta.  271.  to  conqiur]  conquer  Ff. 

Glo.  Cam.     see  it  Pope  et  cet  abfurd  ]   assured  Theob.   Han. 

/<7wi]  a/w  Rowe  ii.  /*»fPope,  +  ,  Cap.    Coll.    (MS),    Huds.      abhorr'd 

Dyce  ii,  iii.  Kinnear. 

mine'\  my  Yi  et  seq. 

lion  and  defined  the  phrase :  '  I  shall  see  some  boy,  performing  the  part  of  Cleopatra, 
as  my  highness.'  Sprenger  suggested  bow  instead  of  *  boy.'  Leo  in  a  Review  of 
Sprenger's  Emendations  {^Sk,  Jhrbuch^  xxvii,  1892,  p.  223)  suggests  that  punctuation 
alone  is  needed  to  reveal  the  sense,  thus :  *  Some  squeaking  Cleopatra  boy — my  great- 
ness I'the  posture,'  etc.  He  adds,  however,  a  possible  emendation  of  *boy,'  which 
it  will  do  his  fine  reputation  no  harm  to  suppress,  especially  since  he  himself  set  no 
value  on  it,  and  professed  his  adherence  to  the  Folio. — Ed. 

264.  squeaking]  Deigiiton  appositely  quotes  Hamlet's  greeting  to  the  young 
boy  actor :  *■  Pray  God,  your  voice,  like  a  piece  of  uncurrent  gold,  be  not  cracked 
within  the  ring.' — II,  ii,  407. 

264.  Boy]  W.  Poel  {^New  Sh.  Soc.  Trans,,  8  Nov.  1889)  :  Stephen  Gosson  thus 
condemns  the  realistic  acting  of  the  boys  who  assumed  women's  parts :  '  Which  way, 
I  beseech  you,  shall  they  be  excused  that  put  on,  not  the  apparel  only,  but  the  gait, 
the  gestures,  the  voice,  the  passions  of  a  woman  ? ' 

265.  posture]  That  is,  behaviour^  deportment, — Ed. 

267.  Nay  that's  certaine]  Capell  (i,  53)  :  Though  this  speech  is  still  left  in 
possession  of  the  place  it  has  always  occupy'd,  yet  it's  title  is  very  suspicious:  it 
seems  to  have  nothing  to  do  here  ;  and  more  than  so, — ^to  have  been  an  accidental 
corruption,  crept  in  by  the  compositor's  heedlessness,  who  was  beginning  to  print 
again  in  this  place  a  speech  that  he  had  printed  before  [line  258,  supra'\  ;  and 
besides, — ^the  spirit  of  the  maid's  declaration  concerning  her  eyes,  is  weaken'd  by 
the  intervention  of  any  thing  between  that  and  her  exclamation  :  if  the  speech  must 
needs  stand,  for  reasons  that  are  not  discoverable  by  the  editor,  it  should  at  least  be 
made  metre  of,  by  reading — Nay,  this  is  certain  ;  meaning — this  which  I  tell  you. — 
[Capell  adopted  this  change  in  his  Version  for  Garrick.] 

268.  mine  Nailes]  See  *your  proofe,'— II,  ii,  141  ;  'Mine  Nightingale,' — IV, 
Tiii,  24 ;  *  Vnarme  Eros,' — IV,  xiv,  45 ;  all  examples  of  errors  in  hearing.  Also,  if 
need  be,  Walker  {Crit.  i,  318). 

271.  their  most  absurd  intents]  Theobald  :  "^Tiy  should  Cleopatra  call  Caesar's 
designs  *  absurd '  ?     She  could  not  think  his  intent  of  carrying  her  in  triumph,  such. 


360  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v.  sc.  ii 

Enter  Charmian.  272 

'^o^Charmia7u 

Shew  me  my  Women  like  a  Queene  :  Go  fetch 
My  beft  Attyres.     I  am  againe  for  CidruSj  275 

To  meete  Marke  Anthony.     Sirra  IraSy  go 

273.  Cliannian.]Fr,Rowe,  +  .  Char  F,F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb. 
tnian  !  Dyce,  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Ktly.  Char-  Dyce,  Glo.  Cam.  Swifts  Iras^  Orger. 
mian  f  Cap.  ct  cet.  Sirrah,  Iras,  Johns,  et  cet 

275.  Cidnis]  Cidnus  Rowe,  Pope.  276.  go'\  go,  Rowe.  go —  Pope, +  . 
Cydnus  Theob.                                                  go.  Cap.  et  seq. 

276.  Sirra  Iras,]   F,.     Sirrah  Iras, 

with  regard  to  his  own  glory  ;  and  her  finding  an  expedient  to  disappoint  him,  could 
not  bring  it  under  that  predicament.  I  much  rather  think  the  poet  wrote :  *  Their 
most  assured  intents,'  t.  e.  the  purposes  which  they  make  themselves  most  sure  of 
accomplishing. — ^Johnson:  I  have  preserved  the  old  reading.  The  design  certainly 
appeared  absurd  enough  to  Cleopatra,  both  as  she  thought  it  unreasonable  in  itseli^ 
and  as  she  knew  it  would  fail. — Upton  (p.  295) :  That  is,  harsh,  grating.  Latin, 
absurdus,  ex  ab  ^/.surdas,  d  quo  aures  et  animum  avertas,  Cicero,  Pro  Rosdo, 
Sect.  7  :  *  Fraudavit  Roscius.  Est  hoc  quidem  auribus  animisque  [hominum]  absur- 
dum.'  Absurdum  est,  t.  e,  sounds  harsh,  grating,  unpleasant. — Hudson  :  '  Absurd' 
seems  to  me  an  absurd  reading. — Rolfe  :  Surely  if  Oesar's  intents  are  assur'd  from 
his  point  of  view,  they  are  *  absurd^  from  Cleopatra* s,  for  she  is  going  to  fool  them. 
In  the  same  vein,  after  she  has  done  this,  she  calls  Cscsar  an  '  ass  unpolicied.' — 
Murray  (A^.  E,  D.  j.  t/.)  :  Adopted  from  French  absurde,  an  adaptation  of  Latin 
absurd-US,  inharmonious,  tasteless,  foolish;  formed  on  ab  off,  here  intensive +xwr4^ 
deaf,  inaudible,  insufferable  to  the  ear.  2.  Out  of  harmony  with  reason  or  propriety; 
incongruous,  unreasonable,  illogical.  In  modem  sense,  especially,  plainly  opposed  to 
reason  and  hence  ridiculous,  silly. — [I  think  Shakespeare  has  a  right  to  the  privi- 
lege of  using  <  absurd'  in  its  derivative  sense. — Ed.] 

274,  275,  etc.  Go  fetch  My  best  Attyres,  etc.]  Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  154) :  She  then 
calls  for  her  diadem,  her  robes  of  state,  and  attires  herself  as  if  <  again  for  Cydnus,  to 
meet  Mark  Antony.'  Coquette  to  the  last,  she  must  make  Death  proud  to  take  her, 
and  die  *  phoenix  like,'  as  she  had  lived,  with  all  the  pomp  of  preparation — ^luxurious 
in  her  despair.  The  death  of  Lucretia,  of  Portia,  of  Arria,  and  others  who  died 
'after  the  high  Roman  fashion,'  is  sublime  according  to  the  Pagan  ideas  of  virtue, 
and  yet  none  of  them  so  powerfully  affect  the  imagination  as  the  catastrophe  of  Cleo- 
patra. The  idea  of  this  frail,  timid,  wayward  woman,  dying  with  heroism  from  the 
mere  force  of  passion  and  will,  takes  us  by  surprise.  The  attic  elegance  of  her  mind, 
her  poetical  imagination,  the  pride  of  beauty  and  royalty  predominating  to  the  last, 
and  the  sumptuous  and  picturesque  accompaniments  with  which  she  surrounds  her- 
self in  death,  carry  to  its  extreme  height  that  effect  of  contrast  which  prevails  through 
her  life  and  character.  No  arts,  no  invention  could  add  to  the  real  circumstances  of 
Cleopatra's  closing  scene.  Shakespeare  has  shown  profound  judgment  and  feeling  in 
adhering  closely  to  the  classical  authorities;  and  to  say  that  the  language  and  senti- 
ments worthily  fill  up  the  outline,  is  the  most  magnificent  praise  that  can  be  given. 

276.  Sirra  Iras]  See  IV,  xv,  105. — Dyce  (ed.  ii) :  Nearly  all  the  modem  editors 
wrongly  put  a  comma  between  tliese  words. 


ACT  V.  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  361 

(  Now  Noble  Ckarmiatty  wee'l  difpatch  indeede,)  277 

And  when  thou  haft  done  this  chare,  He  giue  thee  leaue 
To  play  till  Doomefday  :  bring  our  Crowne,  and  all. 

A  noife  within.  280 

Wherefore's  this  noife  ? 

Enter  a  Guard/man. 
Card/.     Heere  is  a  rurall  Fellow,  283 

277.  No  parentheses,  Rowe  et  seq.  280.   [Exit  Iras,  Charmian  falls  to  ad- 

278.  thou  hafi^  thou'ast  Pope,  Han.  justing  Cleopatra's  dress.  Noise  with- 
tkotist  Theob.  Warb.  Johns.  Dyce  ii,  iii.  in.  Cap. 

279.  Doomefday  :'\doontS'day — Pope,  280-331.  Om.  Kemble. 

Theob.  Han.  Warb.    dooms-day,  Johns.  281.    Wherefore's]    Wherefore    F^F^, 

et  seq.  Rowe,  + ,  Var. '  73. 

283.  a  rurall  Fellow]  A.  C.  Bradley  (p.  395)  :  The  Porter  [in  Macbeth]  does 
not  make  me  smile :  the  moment  is  too  terrific.  He  is  grotesque ;  no  doubt  the 
contrast  he  affords  is  humorous  as  well  as  ghastly ;  I  dare  say  the  groundlings  roared 
with  laughter  at  his  coarsest  remarks.  But  they  are  not  comic  enough  to  allow  one 
to  forget  for  a  moment  what  has  preceded  and  what  must  follow.  And  I  am  far 
from  complaining  of  this.  I  believe  that  it  is  what  Shakespeare  intended,  and  that 
he  despised  the  groundlings  if  they  laughed.  Of  course  he  could  have  written  with- 
out the  least  difficulty  speeches  five  times  as  humorous ;  but  he  knew  better.  The 
Grave-diggers  make  us  laugh :  the  old  Countryman  who  brings  the  asps  to  Cleopatra 
makes  us  smile  at  least.  But  the  Grave-digger  scene  does  not  come  at  a  moment  of 
extreme  tension  ;  and  it  is  long.  Our  distress  for  Ophelia  is  not  so  absorbing  that 
we  refuse  to  be  interested  in  the  man  who  digs  her  grave,  or  even  continue  through- 
out the  long  conversation  to  remember  always  with  pain  that  the  grave  is  hers.  It 
is  fitting,  therefore,  that  he  should  be  made  decidedly  humorous.  The  passage  in 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  is  much  nearer  to  the  passage  in  Macbeth^  and  seems  to  have 
been  forgotten  by  those  who  say  that  there  is  nothing  in  Shakespeare  resembling  that 
passage.*  The  old  Countryman  comes  at  a  moment  of  tragic  exaltation,  and  the 
dialogue  is  appropriately  brief.  But  the  moment,  though  tragic,  is  emphatically  one 
of  exaltation.  We  have  not  been  feeling  horror,  nor  are  we  feeling  a  dreadful 
suspense.  We  are  going  to  see  Cleopatra  die,  but  she  is  to  die  gloriously  and  to 
triumph  over  Octavius.  And  therefore  our  amusement  at  the  old  Countryman  and 
the  contrast  he  affords  to  these  high  passions,  is  untroubled,  and  it  was  right  to  make 
him  really  comic.  But  the  Porter's  case  is  quite  different.  We  cannot  forget  how 
the  knocking  that  makes  him  grumble  sounded  to  Macbeth,  or  that  within  a  few 
minutes  of  his  opening  the  gate  Duncan  will  be  discovered  in  his  blood  ;  nor  can  we 
help  feeling  that  in  pretending  to  be  porter  of  hell-gate  he  is  terribly  near  the  truth. 
To  give  him  language  so  humorous  that  it  would  ask  us  almost  to  lose  the  sense  of 
these  things  would  have  been  a  fatal  mistake, — the  kind  of  mistake  that  means  want 
of  dramatic  imagination.  And  that  was  not  the  sort  of  error  into  which  Shakespeare 
fell. 

*  Even  if  this  were  true,  the  retort  is  obvious  that  neither  is  there  anything  resem- 
bling the  murder-scene  in  Macbeth, 


362  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v.  sc.  u. 

That  will  not  be  deny^de  your  Highnefle  prefence, 

He  brings  you  Figges.  285 

Cleo,     Let  him  come  in.  Exit  Guard/man. 

What  poore  an  Inftrument 
May  do  a  Noble  deede  :  he  brings  me  liberty  : 
My  Refolution*s  plac'd,  and  I  haue  nothing 
Of  woman  in  me  :  Now  from  head  to  foote  290 

I  am  Marble  conftant  :  now  the  fleeting  Moone 
No  Planet  is  of  mine. 

Enter  Guar df man  y  and  Clowne. 

Guard/.     This  is  the  man. 

Cleo.    Auoid,and  leaue  him.  Exit  Guard/man.         295 

Haft  thou  the  pretty  worme  of  Nylus  there, 

286.  287.  Let.,,Inftrument'\  One  line,         Theob.  et  seq. 

Rowe  ct  seq.  291.  I  am\  Pm  Pope,  +  ,  Dyce  ii,  iu. 

287.  What  poore  an\  How  poor  an  Yiy  MarbU  conftanf^tnarbU'Constant 
Rowe,  +  ,  Cap.  Var.  '73,  Steev.  Var.  '03,        Cap.  ct  seq. 

'13,  Sing.      What  a  poor  Var.  '78,  '85,  293.  Clowne.]  Clown,  with  a  Basket 

Ran.  Ktly.  Rowe. 

288.  deede:"]    deed f    Pope.      deed! 

287.  What  poore  an  Instrument]  Abbott  (§  85) :  'What*  is  here  used  for 
kow. — Ibid  (§  422) :  We  can  say  *how  poor  an  instrument/  regarding  'how*  as 
an  adverb,  and  'how  poor*  as  an  adverbialized  expression,  but  not,  '  What  poor  an 
instrument,*  because  'what*  has  almost  lost  with  us  its  adverbial  force. — [In  this 
section  Abbott  gives  many  examples  of  the  transposition  of  the  Article.] 

291.  the  fleeting  Moone]  Warburton  :  Alluding  to  the  Egyptian  devotion 
paid  to  the  moon  under  the  name  of  Isis. — [See  III,  xiii,  183.] — Steevens:  I 
really  believe  that  the  poet  was  not  at  all  acquainted  with  the  devotion  that  the 
Egyptians  paid  to  this  planet  under  the  name  of  Isis.  '  Fleeting  *  is  inconstant. — 
[Juliet's  words  are  a  sufficing  commentary  :  'O,  swear  not  by  the  moon,  th*  incon- 
stant moon.  That  monthly  changes  in  her  circled  orb.' — II,  ii,  109. — Ed.] 

293.  Enter  .  .  .  Clowne]  Vischer  (vi,  p.  175) :  The  Qown  enters  with  the 
asp,  which  Cleopatra  had  ordered.  In  him,  Shakespeare  introduces  a  dunderhead, 
who,  unwitting  of  the  great  act  to  which  he  had  been  summoned,  cracks  jokes  about 
the  bite  of  the  worm  of  Nilus,  and,  like  the  Musicians  in  Romeo  and  Juliet ^  the 
Porter  in  Macbeth^  and  the  Grave-diggers  in  Hamlet,  supplies  the  contrast  between 
the  exalted  image  of  death  and  low  ordinary  life.  It  is  not  too  distracting.  Genuine 
tragic  emotion  is  often  stimulated  thereby,  so  fearfully  does  life  love  to  mingle  the 
serious  and  the  comic. — Delius  {^Sh.  Jahrbuck^  V,  p.  268)  :  This  'rural  Fellow* 
is  the  Clown  of  the  drama,  and  consequently  uses  Clown's  language,  which  is  prose 
embellished  with  f>erverted  words. 

296.  the  pretty  worme  of  Nylus]  Johnson  :  Worm  is  the  Teutonick  word  for 
serpent ;  we  have  the  blind-worm  and  slow-worm  still  in  our  language,  and  the  Nor- 
wegians call  an  enormous  monster,  seen  sometimes  in  the  Northern  ocean,  the  sea^ 
worm. — Percy  ;  In  the  Northern  counties,  the  word  worm  is  still  given  to  the  ser- 


ACT  V,  9C.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TRA  363 

That  killes  and  paines  not?  297 

Clow.     Truly  I  haue  him  :  but  I  would  not  be  the  par- 
tie  that  fhould  defire  you  to  touch  him,  for  his  byting  is 
immortall  :  thofe  that  doe  dye  of  it,  doe  feldome  or  ne-         300 
uer  recouer. 

Cleo.     Remember'ft  thou  any  that  haue  dyed  on't  ? 

Clow.  Very  many,  men  and  women  too.  I  heard  of 
one  of  them  no  longer  then  yefterday,  a  very  honeft  wo- 
man, but  fomething  giuen  to  lye,  as  a  woman  fhould  not  305 
do,  but  in  the  way  of  honefty,  how  fhe  dyed  of  the  by- 
ting  of  it,  what  paine  fhe  felt :  Truely,  fhe  makes  a  verie 
good  report  o'thVorme  :  but  he  that  wil  beleeue  all  that 
they  fay,  fhall  neuer  be  faued  by  halfe  that  they  do  :  but 
this  is  mofl  falliable,  the  Worme's  an  odde  Worme.  310 

Cleo.     Get  thee  hence,  farewell. 

Clow.     I  wifh  you  all  ioy  of  the  Worme.  312 

298-321.  Mnemonic,  Pope,  Warb.  Pope,  +  .    felt.  Coll.  Sing.  Wh.    felt^ — 

302.  Remember' Jl'\  Rememberest  Dycc,         Cap.  et  cet 

Glo.  Cam.  308,  309.  alL„halfe^  Aa//... a// Theoh, 

onW]  on  it  Ktly.  i,  Han.  Warb. 

303.  manyy'\  many  Rowe.  310.  falliable'\  fallible  Ff  et  seq. 

306.  fioneJly^YUQcAS..  Aonesty.Ko'we,  odde"]  adder  QoW.  MS. 

+  .     honesty:  Cap.  et  seq.  312.  [setting  down  his  basket.  Cap. 

307.  felt:'\  Ff,  Rowe,  Glo.  Cam.  felt! 

pent  species  in  general.  I  have  seen  a  Northumberland  ballad,  entituled,  7^  laidly 
Worm  of  Spindleston  HeugheSy  i.  e.  The  loathsome  or  foul  serpent  of  Spindleston 
Craggs. — [Aspis  is  an  Adder  worst  and  most  wicked  in  venime  &  in  bitiog,  &  hath 
that  name  Aspis,  of  AspergendOy  springing  :  for  he  casteth  out  slaieng  venime,  and 
spitteth  and  springeth  out  venime  by  bitings  .  .  .  And  it  followeth  there  [in  Isidore]  : 
Of  adders  that  be  called  Aspis  bee  diuers  manner  kind,  and  haue  diuerse  effects  and 
dooings,  to  noy  and  to  grieue,  that  is  to  wit,  Dipsas  that  is  called  Scytula  in  Latine. 
For  when  he  biteth,  he  slayeth  with  thirst.  Ipalis  is  a  manner  adder,  that  slayeth 
with  sleepe.  These  manner  adders  Cleopatra  layde  by  her,  and  passed  out  of  the 
lyfe  by  death,  as  it  were  a  sleepe. — Batman  vppon  Bartholomew  15^2,  Liber  XVIII. 
Of  Aspide.  cap.  10,  p.  345. — Ed.] 

308.  309.  but  he  that  wil  beleeue  all  that  they  say,  shall  neuer  be  saued 
by  halfe  that  they  do]  Warburton  :  Shakspeare's  clowns  are  always  jokers,  and 
deal  in  sly  satire.  It  is  plain  this  must  be  read  the  contrary  way,  and  all  and  half 
change  places. — [Any  conmient  on  the  foregoing  is  impertinent  Warburton' s  dog- 
matism overawed  Theobald  in  his  first  edition,  but  his  common  sense  asserted  itself 
in  his  second. —  Ed.] 

310.  most  falliable]  Walker  {^Crit,  iii,  312)  :  Does  this  'falliable'  belong  to 
the  Clown  or  to  the  old  printer  ? — [I  think  to  the  old  printer.  What  is  comic  in 
Shakespeare's  Clowns  generally  lies  in  the  perversion  of  words  and  phrases. — Ed.] 


364  ^^^   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v.  sc  n. 

CUo.     Farewell.  313 

Clow.     You  mud  thinke  this  ( looke  you,)  that  the 

Worme  will  do  his  kinde.  315 

Clt'o.     I,  I,  farewell. 
CtiKi\     Looke  you,  the  Worme  is  not  to  bee  tnifted, 

but  in  the  keeping  of  i^-ife  people  :  for  indeede,  there  is 

no  goodnefie  in  the  Worme, 

CUo.     Take  thou  no  care,  it  (hall  be  heeded.  320 

Cttyu\     Ver\'  good  :  giue  it  nothing  I  pray  you,  for  it 

is  not  worth  the  Seeding. 
lVa\     Will  it  eate  me  ? 
Ciinc^     You  mud  not  think  I  am  fo  umple,  but  I  know 

the  diuell  himielie  wili  not  eate  a  woman  :  I  know,  that         325 

a  woman  is  a  diih  for  the  Gods«  if  the  cSoeU  dreue  her 

iK>t.     But  truK%theie  tame  whortoa  c&oels  doe  the  Gods 

great  harme  in  their  wtxnen :  for  in  eoery  tcmie  that  they 

iaake«  the  <!t:se!s  aurre  fioe. 

iT^.     Wclt^g^  thee  gooc  &rew^eiL  330 

c  w«r^     Yes  Sxivth  :  I  with  voc  i?v  o*th*woreB.     ExsZ 
i^v.     Gtuie  Q»  c:::\*  Robe, pet  cc  c=y  Crowae.  I  liaiie 

IflBKTfiOctall  5oc^:{zgs  ia  cae.     Xow  eo  oore 

Yji:T*^ytiir^*  g>»i  -*5cr :  v^'iicis  :  lie  rhnrlcrg  I  kexre  335 

AtiAum  cxI :  I  tee  5zxn  n^vtie  kzxsKiJiie 

Ts>  rraSf  3rr  N<?oue  A^i     I  icjr^  &nii  tcock 

•»  •» 

Tbf  Cijc3»  ciT  Cur.  ar^  wdn^L  lie  G:^  CTie  asisa  33S 


^iNi    itu^  "tftr  J^^iW  Itis  r^   ia&    putL'ia: /^IsMS^nmak.TJF^. 

Xiter.  X«t.  ^*x«,  :*5iu  -.^c.  >r.:aB.     f  m         ^iriti&v  a-  ^et 
:^^»«^>i%  ?^*jnei  ^<M»«i.  "tntms.    < 


«S   ^•rfl.  ^  ^m  ^lrti%tl^^     »rHM5<rH       ^Th*  ^cnivoc  wtt  *2: 


ACT  V,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA 


36s 


To  excufe  their  after  wrath.     Husband,  I  come  : 

Now  to  that  name,  my  Courage  proue  my  Title, 

I  am  Fire,  and  Ay  re  ;  my  other  Elements 

I  giue  to  bafer  life.     So,  haue  you  done  ? 

Come  then,  and  take  the  laft  warmth  of  my  Lippes 

Farewell  kinde  C/uzmtiaUy  IraSy  long  farewell. 

Haue  I  the  Afpicke  in  my  lippes  ?  Doft  fall  ? 


340 


345 


339.  To  excu/e]    T*  excuse  Pope, +  , 
Dyce  ii,  iii. 

after  wrath']  afler-wrath  Rowe 
11, -f. 

[Goes  to  a  Bed,  or  Sopha,  which 
she  ascends ;  her  Women  compose  her 
on  it ;  Iras  sets  the  basket,  which  she 
has  been  holding  upon  her  own  arm,  by 
her.  Cap. 

341.  I atn\  Pm  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

342.  to\  no  FjF^. 

5tf,]  Ff,  Cap.     So;  Glo.  Cam. 


So —  Rowe  et  seq.  (subs.) 

344.  Charmian,]    Charmion.    Johns. 
Charmian  ;  Theob.  Cap.  et  seq. 

[Kissing  them.  Han.  ...  Iras 
falls.  Cap. 

[Applying  the  Asp.  Rowe. 

345.  [To  Iras.   Pope.     ...  who  falls 
down.  Han. 

[Iras,  who  has  had  the  aspics 
in  the  basket  on  her  arm,  sinks  down 
and  dies.  Kemble. 


338,  339.  which  the  Gods  giue  .  .  .  after  wrath]  Rev.  John  Hunter  :  The 
notion  of  good  fortune  in  this  world  justifying  the  gods  in  reversing  it  in  the  next 
world,  was  founded  on  the  parable  of  Dives  and  Lazarus,  Luke^  xvi,  25. — ^Words- 
worth :  A  genuine  heathen  sentiment :  see  Herod.  Ill,  40. — [Dr  Wordsworth  also 
refers  to  his  own  Book,  Shakespear^s  Knowledge  and  Use  of  the  Bible^  where  (p.  1 14, 
et  seq. )  the  attempt  is  made  to  show  that  Shakespeare  is  wont  to  make  religious  senti- 
ments conform  to  the  religion  of  the  speaker,  whether  Heathen  or  Christian.] 

339.  Husband]  This  sanctifies  her  love  for  Anthony ;  in  this  one  sacred  word 
we  hear  Shakespeare's  last  appeal  to  us  for  her  pardon, — like  <  the  heavenly  voice ' 
breathing  forth,  in  Gretchen*s  dungeon,  *  sie  ist  gerettet ! ' — Ed. 

341.  Fire,  and  Ayre  ;  my  other  Elements]  Malone  :  So  in  Henry  the  Fifths 
*  he  is  pure  air  and  fire  ;  and  the  dfiH  elements  of  earth  and  water  never  appear  in 
him.' — [III,  vii,  22.  This  is  in  the  Dauphin's  description  of  his  horse,  and  Madden 
(p.  261)  shows  that  this  reference  to  the  elements,  in  this  connection,  has,  in  old 
writers  on  farriery,  more  significance  than  is  at  once  apparent.  Cleopatra  here  uses 
'  elements '  as  referring  to  the  materials  of  which  man  is  composed.  See  note  on 
III,  ii,  47.— Ed.] 

342.  I  giue  to  baser  life]  Theobald  (Nichols,  ///ust.  ii,  511) :  I  have  imagined 
we  should  read,  *  to  baser  earth*  i.  e,  as  we  say  in  the  Service  for  the  dead, '  Dust  to 
dust,  ashes  to  ashes ' ;  or  as  in  Wills,  *  I  give  my  body  to  the  earth,*  etc. — [This  con- 
jecture was  not  repeated  in  Theobald's  edition.] — Deighton  :  I  leave  to  be  eaten 
by  worms. 

345.  Dost  fall  ?]  Capell  (i,  53)  :  The  Poet's  great  attention  to  nature  in  the 
death  of  these  three  persons,  is  extremely  remarkable.  It  does  not  appear  in  any 
preceding  edition,  which  way  Iras  comes  by  her  death;  the  direction  [given  in  Text, 
Note^  339]  was  intended  to  shew  it :  Iras,  either  in  setting  down  the  basket,  or  in 
leaning  over  it  to  take  her  farewell,  gets  a  bite  from  an  asp ;  and  being  it's  first  bite« 
when  it's  poison  was  most  vigorous,  she  dies  almost  instandy :    The  exulting  and 


366  THE   TRACE  DIE  OF  [act  v,  sc.  iL 

If  thou^  and  Nature  can  fo  gently  part,  346 

The  ftroke  of  death  is  as  a  Louers  pinch, 

Which  hurts,  and  is  defir'd.     Doft  thou  lye  ftill  / 

If  thus  thou  vanifheft,  thou  telPft  the  world. 

It  is  not  worth  leaue-taking.  350 

Char.     Diflblue  thicke  clowd,  &  Raine,  that  I  may  fay 
The  Gods  themfelues  do  weepe. 

Cleo.     This  proues  me  bafe  : 
If  fhe  firft  meete  the  Curled  Anthony ^ 
Hee^l  make  demand  of  her,  and  fpend  that  kiffe  355 

349.  vanijhe/f\  vanquishest  Rowe  ii.  KUy. 

350.  leaue-taking\    leave  taking  Yl^  354.  firft  meete\  proves  Ff.     approves 
Rowe,  Warb.                                                     Rowe.    first  should  meet  (then  should 

[Iras  dies.  Pope.  erased)  Coll.  MS. 

353.  ba/e:'\  base —   Rowe,  +  .     base.  Curled '\  cur/edV^. 

triumphing  manner  that  Cleopatra  goes  off  in,  shews  the  flow  of  her  spirits,  and  her 
death  is  partly  lengthen'd  by  that ;  partly,  as  we  may  conjecture,  by  her  taking  the 
weaken'd  asp  first  to  apply  to  her  breast ;  when  the  fresh  one  is  apply'd  to  her  aim, 
she  vanishes  as  her  woman  had  done  :  The  poison  of  both  being  weaken'd.  Charm- 
ian*s  death  is  protracted  of  course  :  and  if  we  further  suppose  her  to  have  taken  by 
accident  the  aspick  that  her  partner  had  dy'd  by,  this  will  account  for  her  words — 
*  I  partly  feel  thee* ;  and  her  exclamation  in  dying,  which  seems  to  indicate  some- 
thing of  pain. — Steevens  :  Iras  must  be  supposed  to  have  applied  an  asp  to  her  arm 
while  her  mistress  was  settling  her  dress,  or  I  know  not  why  she  should  fall  so  soon. 
— [This  note  of  Steevens  is  quoted  in  substance  or  verbally,  without  dissent,  by  Dyce, 
Staunton,  The  Cowden-Clarkes,  Hudson,  Rolfe,  Deighton.] — Halliwell 
quotes  the  following  remarks  by  *  Anon.*  (which  appear  in  The  Gentlemat^s  Maga.^ 
1790,  Ix,  p.  127)  :  *  I  apprehend  a  mistake  in  the  stage-direction, — that  it  should  be. 
Applying  the  asp  to  IraSy  in  order  to  see  the  effect  of  the  poison,  and  the  paiin  she 
had  to  encounter  in  death.  The  asp  might  be  applied  to  Iras,  either  with  or  without 
her  consent.  This  opinion  is  strengthened  by  Cleopatra  saying,  **This  calls  me 
base,"  as  it  could  not  be  base  in  Cleopatra,  that  Iras  did  it  without  her  consent ;  but 
the  baseness  must  be  in  her  own  want  of  resolution,  and  in  the  murder  of  Iras.  When 
Cleopatra  says,  *<  Come  thou  mortal  wretch,"  I  should  suppose  that  Cleopatra  then 
applied  the  first  asp  to  her  own  breast.* — The  Cowden-Clarkes  :  Throughout  this 
scene,  Iras  has  shown  eagerness  for  death  ;  witness  her  words, — *  Finish,  good  lady ; 
the  bright  day  is  done,  and  we  are  for  the  dark ' ;  and  *  I'll  never  see  it ;  I  am  sure  my 
nails  are  stronger  than  mine  eyes.* — Delius  :  Steevens's  assumption  finds  no  support 
whatever  in  the  text  Shakespeare  wished  to  make  it  clear  that  Iras  died  of  the 
grief  which  taking  leave  of  her  mistress  caused  her. — [Thus,  also,  the  Cambridge 
Editors,  who  remark  {^Note  viii.) :  *  The  context  implies  that  the  cause  of  [Iras' s] 
death  was  grief  at  the  leave-taking,*  which  is  also  the  opinion  of  the  present  Editor. 
We  have  already  had  an  instance  in  this  play  where  a  broken  heart  has  caused  death, 
and,  moreover,  where  the  victim  was  a  strong,  vigorous  man. — Ed.] 

355.  Hee'l  make  demand  of  her]  Johnson  :  He  will  enquire  of  her  concerning 
me,  and  kiss  her  for  giving  him  intelligence. 


ACT  V,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPA  TEA  367 

Which  is  my  heauen  to  haue.Come  thou  mortal  wretch,         356 

With  thy  fharpe  teeth  this  knot  intrinficate, 

Of  life  at  once  vntye  :  Poore  venomous  Foole, 

Be  angry,  and  difpatch.     Oh  could'ft  thou  fpeake. 

That  I  might  heare  thee  call  great  Ccsfar  Affe,  vnpolicied.         360 

Char,     Oh  Eafterne  Starre. 

Cleo.     Peace,  peace  :  362 

356-359.  Mnemonic,  Warb.  357.  [To  the  serpent.  Pope.    ...apply- 

356.  thou^  Om.    Pope,  + ,  Cap.  Stcev.         ing  it  to  her  breast.  Han. 
Var.  '03,  '13,  Words.  358.  [stirring  it.  Cap. 

[to  the  Asp  ;  applying  it  to  her  360.  AJfe^  ass  Var.  '78  et.  seq. 

Breast.  Cap.  vnpolicied.']  Separate  line.  Pope 

357,  358.  intrinficate^  ^f  ^^fi^  intrin-         et  seq. 

sieate  Of  ti/e,  Fope.    intrinsicate  Of  life  362-364.  Mnemonic,  Pope,  Warb. 

Theob.  et  seq.  (intrinsecate  Cap.  Errata.) 

355.  and  spend  that  kisse]  A.  S.  G.  Canning  (Sh,  Studied  in  Eight  Plays^ 
p.  161) :  There  is  really  nothing  truly  pathetic  in  these  tragic  events,  if  calmly  con- 
sidered. Cleopatra's  jealous  dread  of  Iras  dying  first,  lest  Antony  should  take  a 
fancy  to  her,  is  almost  ludicrous,  according  to  modem  ideas. — [Ah,  for  one  hour  of 
Dyce, — with  his  exclamation  marks. — Ed.] 

357.  this  knot  intrinsicate]  Warburton  :  The  expression  is  fine ;  it  signifies 
a  hidden,  secret  (intrinsecus)  knot,  sis  that  which  ties  soul  and  body  together. — 
Edwards  (p.  184)  :  How,  secret  as  that  which  ties  soul  and  body  together?  Why, 
it  is  that  very  knot  she  speaks  of.  But,  what  a  lingua  franca  is  here  I  a  secret 
intrinsecus  knot !  How  long  has  intrinsecus  been  an  adjective?  and,  if  it  be  not, 
how  will  he  construe  the  sentence  ?  Had  our  critic  read  Shakspeare  with  any  atten- 
tion, he  might  have  known,  that  he  uses  intrinsecate  for  intricate,  entangled,  or  tied 
in  hard  knots ;  *  Like  rats,  oft  bite  the  holy  cords  in  twain.  Too  intrinsecate  to 
unloose.'  Had  it  signified  hidden,  secret,  it  could  no  more  have  been  bitten  in  ttoain, 
than  untied,  before  it  was  found  out. — Murray  {^N.  E.  D.)  :  Apparently  formed  on 
Italian  intrinsecato,  familiar,  confused  in  sense  with  intricato,  intricate.  Equivalent 
to  intricate,  involved,  entangled.  [Four  references  follow ;  1 560,  Whitehome,  Arte 
Warre;  1599,  Jonson,  Cynthia's  Revels,  V,  ii ;  Marston,  Scourge  of  VtUanie ;  and 
the  present  passage  in  Ant.  <5r*  Cleop.^ 

360.  Asse,  vnpolicied]  Steevens  :  That  is,  an  ass  without  more  policy  than  to 
leave  the  means  of  death  within  my  reach,  and  thereby  deprive  his  triumph  of  its 
noblest  decoration.— [Steevens  did  not  improve  the  text,  I  think,  when,  in  the  Vari- 
orum  of  1778,  he  expunged  the  comma  after  *  Asse.'  A  pause  after  the  word,  enforced 
by  this  comma,  seems,  to  me  at  least,  to  impart  an  emphasis,  with  concentrated  bitter- 
ness, to  *unpolicied.' — Ed.] 

362.  Peace,  peace]  Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  155)  :  The  magical  play  of  fancy  and  the 
overpowering  fascination  of  the  character  are  kept  up  to  the  last ;  and  when  Cleo- 
patra, on  applying  the  asp,  silences  the  lamentations  of  her  women — *  Peace  !  peace  I 
Dost  thou  not  see  my  baliy  at  my  breast.  That  sucks  the  nurse  to  sleep  ?  *  These 
few  words — the  contrast  between  the  tender  beauty  of  the  image  and  the  horror  of 
the  situation — produce  an  affect  more  intensely  mournful  than  all  the  ranting  in  the 


368  THE   TRAGEDIE  OF  [act  v,  sc.  u. 

Doft  thou  not  fee  my  Baby  at  my  bread,  363 

That  fuckes  the  Nurfe  afleepe. 

Char.     O  breake  !  O  breake  J  365 

Cleo,    As  fweet  as  Balme,  as  foft  as  Ayre,  as  gentle. 

O  Antlwny  \  Nay  I  will  take  thee  too.  367 

364.  afleepe.'\  asleep?  Rowe  ii.  (subs.) 

366.  gentle,^  Ff,  Rowe,  Pope,  Han.  367.   [Applying  another  Asp  to  her 

Coll.  Wh.   Ktly,  Hal.    gentle^  Theob.  arm.  Theob. 

Warb.    Johns,     gentle —  Cap.    et  cet.  367,  368.  Nay...Jlay'\  Om.  Kemble. 


world.  The  generous  devotion  of  her  women  adds  to  the  moral  charm  which  alone 
was  wanting :  and  when  Octavius  hurries  in  too  late  to  save  his  victim,  and  exdaims 
when  gazing  on  her — '  She  looks  like  sleep — As  she  would  catch  another  Antony  In 
her  strong  toil  of  grace,'  the  image  of  her  beauty  and  her  irresistible  arts,  triumphant 
even  in  death,  is  at  once  brought  before  us,  and  one  masterly  and  comprehensive 
stroke  consummates  this  most  wonderful,  most  dazzling  delineation. 

363.  at  my  breast]  Bucknill  (p.  221)  :  It  is  curious  that  Shakespeare  makes 
Qeopatra  apply  the  aspic  both  to  the  breast  and  to  the  arm,  since  we  find  a  discussion 
in  old  Primrose's  Popular  Errors^  on  this  point  Primrose  does  not  appear  to  have 
read  Shakespeare,  or  with  his  love  of  reference  he  would  certainly  have  shewn  it 
In  his  chapter  on  the  mountebank's  antidote,  he  says : — *  And  now  the  story  of  Cleo- 
patra comes  to  my  minde.  Petrus  Victorius  blames  the  painters,  that  paint  Cleo- 
patra applying  the  aspe  to  her  paps,  seeing  it  is  manifest  out  of  Plutarch^  in  the 
Life  of  AntoniuSy  and  out  of  Plinie  likewise,  that  she  applyed  it  to  her  arme.  Zon- 
aras  relates  that  there  appeared  no  signe  of  death  upon  her  save  two  blew  ^x>ts  on 
her  arme.  Casar  also  in  her  statute  which  he  carryed  in  triumph,  applyed  the  aspe 
to  her  arme :  For  in  the  armes  there  are  great  veines  and  arteries,  which  doe  quickly 
and  in  a  straight  way  convey  the  venome  to  the  heart,  whereas  in  the  paps  the  vessels 
are  slender,  which,  by  sundry  circumvolutions  onely,  do  lead  to  the  heart.' 

364.  That  suckes  the  Nurse  asleepe]  Steevens  :  Before  the  publication  of 
this  piece,  The  Tragedy  of  Cleopatra^  by  Daniel,  1 594,  had  made  its  appearance ; 
but  Dryden  is  more  indebted  to  it  than  Shakspeare.  Daniel  has  the  following  address 
to  the  asp :  *  Better  than  death  death's  office  thou  dischargest,  That  with  one  gentle 
touch  can  free  our  breath  ;  And  in  a  pleasing  sleep  our  soul  enlargest,  Making  our- 
selves not  privy  to  our  death.  Therefore  come  thou,  of  wonders  wonder  chief,  That 
open  canst  with  such  an  easy  key  The  door  of  life  ;  come  gentle,  cunning  thief,  That 
from  ourselves  so  steal' st  ourselves  away.'     [See  Dryden's  All  for  Love  in  Appendix^ 

364.  asleepe]  Theobald  proves  by  quotations  from  Lucius  Florus,  Solxnus, 
Propertius,  Lucan,  and  Ovid,  that  Shakespeare  was  justified  in  thus  attributing  a 
somnolent  effect  to  the  venom  of  the  asp.  The  proof  is  not  now  needed.  Batman 
vppon  Bartholome  is  authority  sufficient  for  the  popular  belief  in  Shakespeare's  day. 
Probably,  no  one,  however,  among  tbe  early  editors  was  as  competent  as  Theobald 
to  furnish,  ofif-liand,  such  an  array  of  learning. — Ed. 

367.  I  will  take  thee  too]  Theobald  :  'Tis  certain,  Cleopatra  is  here  desgn'd 
to  apply  one  aspick  to  her  arm,  as  she  had  before  clap'd  one  to  her  breast.  Dion 
Cassius,  in  the  51st  Book  of  his  Roman  History  is  express  as  to  small  punctures  of 
the  asp  being  discover'd  only  on  her  arm.     And  Plutarch  [verifies  it]     Strabo,  Vcl- 


ACTV,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  369 

What  fhould  I  ftay Dyes.         368 

Char.     In  this  wilde  World  ?  So  fare  thee  well : 

368.  What^  Why  Coll.  MS.  Cleop.   Elze. 

Dyes.  ]  falls  on  a  bed,  and  dies.  369.  wilde]  F,.    rdle  Cap.  Sing.  Dycci 

Mai.  Sta.  Glo.  Cam.  Ktly,  Hal.  Wh.  ii.   wild 

369.  /»  ...  World  11     Continued     to        F^F^  et  cet. 

leius  Paterculns,  Eutropius,  and  Lucius  Florus  leave  this  matter  as  much  at  large. 
Leonardo  Augustini,  among  his  antique  gems,  exhibits  one  of  Cleopatra  upon  an 
agot,  with  an  aspick  biting  her  right  breast.  And  Strada,  the  Mantuan  Antiquary, 
who  gives  us  a  medal  of  this  princess,  says,  that  she  died  by  serpents  applied  to  her 
breasts.  And  Domitius  Calderinus,  upon  the  59th  Epigram  of  the  ivth  Book  of 
Martial,  says  precisely,  that  she  procured  her  own  death  by  applying  Asps  to  her 
breast  and  arm. 

368.  Dyes]  Sir  Thomas  Browne  ( Vulgar  Errors,  Book  V,  Chap,  xii,  p.  291, 
ed.  1672)  :  The  picture  concerning  the  death  of  Cleopatra  with  two  Asps  or  venem- 
ous  Serpents  unto  her  arms,  or  breasts,  or  both,  requires  consideration :  for  therein 
(beside  that  this  variety  is  not  excusable)  the  thing  it  self  is  questionable ;  nor  is  it 
indisputably  certain  what  manner  of  death  she  died.  Plutarch  in  the  life  of  Antony 
plainly  delivereth,  that  no  man  knew  the  manner  of  her  death ;  for  some  affirmed 
she  perished  by  poison,  which  she  always  carried  in  a  little  hollow  comb,  and  wore 
it  in  her  hair.  Beside,  there  were  never  any  Asps  discovered  in  the  place  of  her 
death,  although  two  of  her  Maids  perished  abo  with  her ;  only  it  was  said,  two  small 
and  almost  insensible  pricks  were  found  upon  her  arm ;  which  was  all  the  ground 
that  Casar  had  to  presume  the  manner  of  her  death.  Galen  who  was  contemporary 
unto  Plutarch,  delivereth  two  wayes  of  her  death  :  that  she  killed  her  self  by  the 
bite  of  an  Asp,  or  bit  an  hole  in  her  arm,  and  poured  poison  therein.  Strabo  that 
lived  before  them  both  hath  also  two  opinions ;  that  she  died  by  the  bite  of  an  Asp, 
or  else  a  poisonous  ointment  We  might  question  the  length  of  the  Asps,  which  are 
sometimes  described  exceeding  short ;  whereas  the  Chersaea  or  land- Asp  which  most 
conceive  she  used,  is  above  four  cubits  long.  Their  number  is  not  unquestionable ; 
for  whereas  there  are  generally  two  described,  Augustus  (as  Plutarch  relateth)  did 
carry  in  his  triumph  the  Image  of  Cleopatra  but  with  one  Asp  unto  her  arm.  •  As  for 
the  two  pricks,  or  little  spots  in  her  arm,  they  infer  not  their  plurality :  for  like  the 
Viper,  the  Asp  hath  two  teeth ;  whereby  it  left  this  impression,  or  double  puncture 
behind  it.  And  lastly,  We  might  question  the  place  ;  for  some  apply  them  unto  her 
breast,  which  notwithstanding  will  not  consist  with  the  History;  and  Petrus  Vic- 
tortus  hath  well  observed  the  same.  But  herein  the  mistake  was  easie  ;  it  being  the 
custom  in  capital  malefactors  to  apply  them  unto  the  breast,  as  the  Author  De  The- 
riaca  ad  Pisonem,  an  eye  witness  hereof  in  Alexandria,  where  Cleopatra  died, 
determincth  :  I  beheld,  saith  he,  in  Alexandria,  how  suddenly  these  Serpents  bereave 
a  man  of  life;  for  when  any  one  is  condemned  to  this  kind  of  death,  if  they  intend  to 
use  him  favourably,  that  is,  to  dispatch  him  suddenly,  they  fasten  an  Asp  unto  his 
breast;  and  bidding  him  walk  about,  he  presently  perisheth  thereby. 

369.  In  this  wilde  World]  Capell  (i,  53;  reading  vile) :  Speaking  them  after  a 
pause ;  with  eyes  fix'd  upon  her  dend  mistress,  and  a  look  of  the  tenderest  affection. 
Vile  was  spelt — vilde,  when  this  play  was  in  penning,  which  occasioned  the  present 
corruption ;  for  so  *  wilde '  will  be  thought  by  most  readers,  who  bestow  a  little  reflec- 

24 


370  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v.  sc  iL 

Now  boaft  thee  Death,  in  thy  poffeflion  lyes  370 

A  LalTe  vnparalell'd.     Downie  Windowes  cloze. 

And  golden  Phoebus,  neuer  be  beheld 

Of  eyes  againe  fo  Royall  :  your  Crownes  away,  373 

371.  Laffi\  /«« Sprengcr.  araeay.    FjF^t    Rowc  i.     Crowns  awry 

373,  Crcvmes    it»ay\    F,.       Cnmms        Rowe  ii.     crown*!  awry  Pope  et  cet. 

tion  npcm  the  difference  between  the  two  words  in  p(»nt  of  propriety. — Steevkns  : 
I  suppose  she  means  by  this  wild  woiid,  this  world  which  by  the  death  of  Antony  is 
become  a  desert  to  her.  A  wild  is  a  desert.  Our  author,  however,  might  have  writ- 
ten wild  (Le,  vile  according  to  ancient  spelling),  ibr  worthless. — CoLXl£&  (ed.  ii)  : 
There  is  not  the  slightest  pretext  for  altering  '  wild  *  to  the  commonplace  vile^  as  has 
been  done  under  the  supposition  that  vile  having  been  of  old  often  misprinted  vilde 
(a  fonn  to  which  the  Rev.  Mr  Dyce  strangely  adheres),  it  was  in  this  place  mistaken 
for  *  wild.^  Charmian  might  well  call  the  world  '  wild,*  desezl,  and  savage,  after  die 
deaths  of  Antony,  Oeopatra,  and  others  whom  she  loved.  This  passage  is  another 
proof  how  the  corruption  of  vild^  where  vile  was  intended,  makes  confnsion  in  the 
beads  of  editors  &s  well  as  in  the  texts  of  dramatists ;  if  vile  had  not  somedmes  been 
misprinted  rild^  nobody  would  have  thought  of  amending  'wild  world*  to  *mU 
world.''  If  any  change  were  made,  we  should  prefer  here  wide  to  vile;  but  in  truth  it 
is  an  offence  against  all  just  rules  of  criticism  to  attempt  an  emendation  where  Wfut 
is  required. — R.  G.  White  (ed.  i) :  There  is  not  sufBdent  justification  for  the  chan^ 
[to  s^].  At  that  time  the  world  seemed  wild  enough  to  p)oor  Chaxmiaa. — Drci 
(ed.  i) :  Capell  saw  ^what  is  plain  enough)  that  vilde  had  been  by  mistake  transianBed 
into  <  wilde.^  (The  folio,  with  its  usual  inconsistency  of  ^>elling,  has  in  some  placo 
•vild'  and  'vilde,' — in  others  *vile.^) — ^Ibid.  (ed.  ii)  :  On  the  above  remark  [cf 
Collier]  I  have  to  remark  : — First,  That  1  no  longer  *  adhere '  to  the  old  spcDiag 
vild.  .  .  .  SecoTuily,  That  the  passages  in  early  books  where  xrild  {i.  e.  vile)  is  mis- 
printed wild  are  so  very  numerous,  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  same  error  hav- 
ing been  committed  in  the  passage  now  under  cnn^deration.  We  meet  with  the  kA- 
lowii^;  examples  in  the  plays  of  Beaumont  &  Fletcher : — '  I  will  not  lose  a  word  To 
this  Tttild  [read  vild^  7iile']  woman,'  etc —  The  Maid^s  Tragedy^  III,  i ;  *  Thai  now 
dares  sty  1  am  a  stranger,  not  the  siune,  Taort.  wild  [read  wtii/=  ttZt],'  etc — The 
Faithful  Shepherdess^  IV,  iv  ;  « To  do  these  wild  [so  the  first  410,  the  later  4iOt 
r»?7(7,  folio  1679  vile]  unmanly  things.' — 7^  Scornful  Lady^  III,  i;  *Or  am  I  cf  « 
wild  [read  vild'^  7nle'\  and  low  a  blood,'  etc — The  Little  French  Lswyer^  III,  v. 
Thirdly,  That  *  vih  world^  which  Collier  terms  a  *  commonplace  phrase,*  occurs  in  a 
passage  of  2  Henry  X'l :  V,  ii,  a  passage  which  (as  it  is  not  found  in  The  First  Fert 
of  the  Conten/wfk,  etc. )  ve  may  confidently  ascribe  to  Shakespeare  : — *  O,  let  4e 
xii.K  WORIJ)  end.  And  the  promised  flames  of  the  last  day.  Knit  earth  and  heava 
together!'  Fourthly,  That  *  wide,'  [Collier's  sui^estion,]  has  uo  |MU|jiiet»  here, 
not  being  (whrU  is  obviously  required)  a  vituperative  cpitheL — [*  Wild'  seemSi  I 
think,  t«x>  weak  in  Charmian' s  mouth,  in  comparison  with  vile. — ^El\.] 

571.  Downie  Windowes]  Mai,one  :  5>o,  in  Venm  and  Adonis  •  *  Her  two  htac 
7find,iws  faintly  she  upheaveth.' 

373.  your  Crownes  away]  Johnson  :  This  is  wcD  amended  [«^»^■]  Vy  Ae 
editoT?i. — Jamfs  Nichoi*  (ii,  3)  :  Thus  arrayed  [in  her  robe  and  C7own3  Qcc^iita 
applies  the  a^ck, — its  p(»son  acts  qnidcly  and  pamlwsly;  life  soon  «/v-— j**  tc  its 


ACTV,  sc.  n.]        ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  371 

He  mend  it^and  then  play 


Enter  the  Guard  rujlling  iuy  and  Dolabelku  375 

374.  play ]   Ff,  Rowe  +  ,  Var.         seq. 

»73,  Coll.  Wh.  i,  Ktly.   //dry.  Cap.  ct  cet.  375.  and  DolabdUu]  Om.    Rowe  et 

375.  rudling  in,]  rushing  in,  Rowe  et        seq. 


influence,  and  as  she  dies,  her  head  naturally  falls  backward  on  the  couch,  and  the 
crown,  compressed  between  the  back  of  the  head  and  the  couch,  necessarily  springs 
*away*  from  the  forehead.  This  Cbarmian  perceives,  and  says,  *your  crown's 
away ;  I'll  mend  it,'  which  she  does  by  drawing  it  gently  down  again. — Dyce,  in 
his  first  edition,  quoted  Steevens's  note  on  line  374.  In  his  second  edition  he  added 
an  extract  from  North's  Plutarch  wherein  Charmian  is  described  as  trinmiing  the 
diadem  which  Cleopatra  wore  upon  her  head ;  he  then  concluded  as  follows :  '  The 
addition  I  have  now  made  to  my  original  note  on  this  passage  has  been  called  forth 
by  the  thrice-foolish  attempt  to  defend  the  blunder  of  the  Folio,  *  away,'  [in  the 
foregoing  note  by  James  Nichols].' — [Surely,  no  one,  after  reading  Nichols's  note, 
will  approve  of  Dyce's  intemperate  words.  For  myself,  I  think  the  note,  in  its  praise- 
worthy attempt  to  vindicate  the  Folio,  is  eminently  just,  and  am  ready  to  share  any 
condemnation  which  may  properly  fall  on  its  writer.  In  itself,  the  phrase  *your 
crown's  away '  is  more  smooth  and  liquid  than  the  crooked,  harsh  '  your  crown's 
awry.*  The  sole  objection  to  •  away  *  that  I  can  perceive  (and  it  is  trivial)  is  the 
rhyme  with  '  play,'  in  the  next  line;  but  the  words  can  be  so  spoken  that  the  rhyme 
will  be  unnoticeable.  Dyce's  baptismal  name  was  well  bestowed;  he  considered 
Shakespeare  as  his  exclusive  realm,  and  in  this  realm,  *  Like  Alexander  he  would 
reign.  And  he  would  reign  alone,' — woe  to  any  one  who  ventured  a  foothold  there ! 
Collier  always  believed  that  Dyce's  bitter  and  inappeasible  hostility  dated  from  the 
discovery  that  he  was  preparing  an  edition  of  Shakespeare.  A.  E.  Brae,  an  unusually 
keen  critic,  was  another  of  Dyce's  aversions.  Brae  was,  by  profession,  a  dentist ;  there- 
fore, presumably,  Dyce  felt  less  compunction  in  attacking  him,  certainly  tooth,  and  pos- 
sibly nail.  Ingleby,  too,  received  one  of  Dyce's  bitterest  strokes.  Lettsom  appears 
to  have  been  the  only  exception  in  Dyce's  horizon,  and  to  him  Dyce  paid  homage 
throughout  his  second  edition.  The  emendation  'awry,'  be  it  observed,  is  Rowe's, 
not  Pope's,  to  whom  it  is  almost  universally  attributed.  Steevens  quotes  the  corre- 
sponding passage  in  Daniels'  Tragedie  of  Cleopatra^  1594: — *  And  sencelesse,  in  her 
sinking  downe  she  wryes  The  Diademe  which  on  her  head  she  wore  :  Which  Char- 
mion  (poore  weake  feeble  maid)  espies.  And  hastes  to  right  it  as  it  was  before.  For 
Eras  now  was  dead.' — line  165 1,  ed.  Grosart. — Ed.] 

374.  and  then  play ]  Steevens  :  That  is,  play  her  part  in  this  tragic  scene 

by  destroying  herself;  or  she  may  mean,  that  having  performed  her  last  office  for 
her  mistress,  she  will  accept  the  permission  given  her  (in  lines  278,  279)  to  *  play 
till  doomsday.' — [I  know  of  no  explanation  of  these  words  other  than  Steevens* s, 
which  seems  to  have  been  universally  adopted ;  but  the  fact  that  the  sentence  is 
broken  off  renders  possible  a  different  conclusion.  I  cannot  believe  that  the  dis- 
regard of  this  long  dash  after  *  play,'  in  the  Folio,  is  judicious.  It  is  of  rare  occur- 
rence, at  least  in  this  play,  and  should  be,  therefore,  all  the  more  observed.  In 
proof  of  its  rarity,  see  line  378,  where  it  should  be,  but  is  not.  After  line  368,  above, 
it  has  been  by  all  editors  punctiliously  retained  ;  I  think  that  so  it  should  have  been 
here. — Ed.] 


372 


THE   TRACED  IE  OF 


[act  V,  sc.  U. 


I   Guard.    Where's  the  Queene? 
Char.     Speake  foftly,  wake  her  not 
I    Ccefar  hath  fent 
Char.     Too  flow  a  Meflenger. 
Oh  come  apace^  difpatch,  I  partly  feele  thee. 

1  Approach  hoa, 

All's  not  well  :  Ccefat^s  beguild. 

2  There's  Dolabella  fent  from  Cafar  :  call  him. 
I  What  worke  is  heere  Charmian  ? 

Is  this  well  done  ? 

Char.     It  is  well  done,  and  fitting  for  a  Princefle 
Defcended  of  fo  many  Royall  Kings. 
Ah  Souldier.  Charmian  dyes. 

Enter  Dolabella. 

Dol.     How  goes  it  heere  ? 

2.Guard.    All  dead. 

Dol.     Cce/ar  y  thy  thoughts 
Touch  their  effefls  in  this  :  Thy  felfe  art  comming 
To  fee  perform'd  the  dreaded  Aft  which  thou 
So  fought'ft  to  hinder. 

Enter  Ccefar  and  all  his  Trainey  marching. 


376 


380 


38s 


390 


395 


376.  Wi^^'j]Ff,Rowe,Pope,Theob. 
Warb.      Where  is  Han.  Johns,  et  seq. 

378.  fent'\fent.  Ff,  Theob.  i.  sent— 
Rowe  et  cet. 

[Charmian  and  Iras  apply  the 
Asp.  Rowe.  Charmian  applies  the  Asp. 
Pope. 

380.  come  apace  ^difpatch  ^'\  Ff,  Rowe, 
Pope,  Theob.  Han.  Warb.  Dyce,  Sta.Glo. 
Cam.  comCf  apacCf  dispa/ch ;  Caip.  come; 
apace  ;  dispatch  ;  Coll.  Wh.  Hal.  come. 
Apace ^  dispatch.  Johfis.  et  cet.  (subs.) 


380.  I parily\  now^  now  I  Kemble. 

381,  382.  Approach  ...  begttild'[  One 
line,  Theob.  et  seq. 

3^1  3^5*  What,.,dom/'\  One  line, 
Rowe  et  seq. 

386.  //  «]  irs  F,F^,  Rowe. 

388.  Sou/dier.}FJ^^.  soldiers / Kow^ 
+ .     Souldier  I  F^,  Cap.  et  seq. 

Charmian  dyes.]  Char,  and  lias 
die.  Rowe. 

396.  Enter...]  Enter  Cesar  and  At- 
tendants. Rowe. 


385.  Is  this  well  done  ?]  Singer  :  This  refers  to  a  deception.  Charmian,  whispered 
by  Qeopalra,  went  out  to  manage  the  introduction  of  the  Gown  with  the  asps. — 
R.  G.  White  gives  a  similar  explanation,  which  might  be  accepted  were  it  not  that 
the  question  is  exactly  copied  from  North's  Pltitarch^  where  the  Guard  could  not 
have  known  of  Charmian's  agency  in  the  matter.  Charmian's  reply,  moreover,  shows 
that  it  refers  to  the  dead  queen. — Ed.] 

392,  393.  thy  thoughts  Touch  their  efifedts  in  this]  That  is,  thy  forebodings 
are  realised  here. 


ACT  V,  sc.  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPA  TRA  373 

AIL     A  way  there,  a  way  for  Ccsfar.  397 

DoL     Oh  fir,  you  are  too  fure  an  Augurer: 
That  you  did  feare,  is  done. 

Ccefar.     Braueft  at  the  laft,  400 

She  leuellM  at  our  purpofes,  and  being  Royall 
Tooke  her  owne  way  :  the  manner  of  their  deaths,  402 

397.  All.]  Within.  Cap.  Without  Sta.  line  as  quotation.  Glo.  Cam. 

A  way...wav']  Make  way  there ^  400.  Brauejf^  Bravest  Dyce  ii,  iii. 

make  way  F  F^,  Rowe,  Pope,  Theob.  the  laft'\  last  Pope,  + . 

Warb.  Johns.  Alake  way  there ^  way  Han.  401.  purpo/e5\  purpose  Pope,  + . 

A  way  there^  way  Cap.  Steev.  Var.  '03,  402.  way  .*]  way.  Pope  et  seq. 

*I3.     A  way  there^  make  way  Var.  '73.  their  deaths^  F,F  .    her  Deaths? 

Way  there,  way  Walker.     The  whole  F^.     their  deaths  f  Rowe  et  seq. 

401.  purposes]  For  the  concluding  j  see  I,  iv,  11.  Dyce  conjectured  purpose, 
not  knowing  that  he  had  been  virtually  anticipated  by  Walker,  and  that  Walker  had 
been  anticipated  by  Pope. 

401.  and  being  Royall]  Hunter  (ii,  290)  :  This  passage  is  left  without  any 
annotation,  and  yet  there  is  meaning  in  it  which  many  readers  might  not  discover. 
Dollabella  had  alluded  to  the  augurs.  This  introduces  the  idea  of  the  flight  of  birds ; 
this  the  idea  of  hawking ;  and  Cleopatra,  brave  in  her  death,  is  represented  under 
the  image  of  a  hawk  levelling  at  the  purposes  of  her  conqueror,  and  rendering  them 
dead  or  ineffectual.  The  idea  of  hawking  introduced  the  idea  of  other  field-sports, 
and  to  the  hawk  Shakespeare  transfers  the  attribute  of  a  hart-royal,  which  had  the 
privilege  of  roaming  at  large  unmolested,  and  taking  its  own  way  to  its  lair.  Thus 
Qeopatra  being  *  royal  *  had  *  taken  her  own  way  *  in  self-destruction.  In  The 
Gentleman* s  Recreation,  p.  6,  the  liberty  of  the  hart-royal  is  thus  described  : — '  If 
the  King  or  Queen  shall  happen  to  hunt  or  chase  a  hart,  and  he  escape  with  life,  he 
shall  ever  after  be  called  a  hart-royal ;  but  if  he  fly  so  far  from  the  forest  or  chase 
that  it  is  unlikely  he  will  ever  return  of  his  own  accord  to  the  place  aforesaid,  and 
that  proclamation  be  made  in  all  towns  and  villages  thereabout,  that  none  shall  kill 
or  offend  him,  but  that  he  may  safely  return,  if  he  list,  he  is  then  called  a  hart  royal 
proclaimed.'' — Madden  (p.  19) :  The  male  red  deer  is  now  ordinarily  called  a  stag, 
the  female  a  hind,  and  the  young  a  calf.  .  .  .  But  if  you  would  speak  in  the  strict 
language  of  woodcraft,  you  would  call  him  in  the  first  year  *  a  Hind  calfe,  or  a  calfe, 
the  second  yeere  you  shall  call  him  a  Broket ;  .  .  .  the  sixt  yeere  you  shall  call  him  a 
Hart.  .  .  .  But  if  the  king  or  queene  doe  hunt  or  chace  him,  and  he  escape  away 
aliue,  then  after  such  a  hunting  or  chacing  he  is  called  Hart  Royall.' — Manwood, 
ne  Forest  Lawes,  159S.  Thenceforth,  after  proclamation,  he  was  free  to  return  to 
the  forest  from  whence  he  came,  and  no  man  might  meddle  with  a  hart  royal  pro- 
claimed. Hunter  suggests  [as  above]  that  when  C(esar  said  of  Cleopatra  that  she 
*  being  royal,  Took  her  own  way/  the  licence  accorded  to  the  hart  royal  to  go  his 
own  way  was  present  to  his  mind  ;  and  certainly  instances  may  be  found  in  Shake- 
speare of  similar  conceits.  The  stag,  or  hart,  at  six  years  of  age  should  have  acquired 
'  his  rights,' — that  is  to  say,  the  brow,  bay,  and  trey  anders — and  two  points  on  top 
of  each  horn.  The  modem  use  of  the  term  '  royal '  to  denote  a  stag  with  all  his 
rights  and  three  on  top,  is  altogether  inaccurate,  and  without  warranty  of  any  writer 
of  authority  on  woodcraft. 


374  ^^^   TRAGEDJE   OF  [act  v,  sc.  iL 

I  do  not  fee  them  bleede.  403 

DoL     Who  was  laft  with  them  ? 

I  Guard.A  fimple  Countryman,  that  broght  hir  Figs:         405 
This  was  his  Basket. 

Cafar.     Poyfon'd  then. 

I  .Guard.     Oh  Cce/ar  : 
This  Charmian  liu'd  but  now,  fhe  ftood  and  fpake  : 
I  found  her  trimming  vp  the  Diadem  ;  410 

On  her  dead  Miftris  trembHngly  (he  flood, 
And  on  the  fodaine  dropt 

Ca/ar,     Oh  Noble  weakeneffe  : 
If  they  had  fwallow^d  poyfon,  ^twould  appeare 
By  extemall  fwelling :  but  (he  lookes  like  fleepe,  415 

As  (he  would  catch  another  Anthony 
In  her  (brong  toyle  of  Grace. 

Doi.     Heere  on  her  breft, 
There  is  a  vent  of  Bloud,  and  fomething  blowne. 
The  like  is  on  her  Anne.  420 

1  .Guard.     This  is  an  Afpickes  traile. 
And  thefe  Figge-leaues  haue  fUme  vpon  them,  fuch 
As  th*Af[Mcke  leaues  vpon  the  Caues  of  Nyle.  423 


405.  ^mgk/  Ai>]  F,.  415.  Br^  By  sawu  Cap.  coig. 

4o8w    1. Guard.]  l  G«iiL  Roweii,  Pbpe,  e^trmaU^  extern  Walker. 

TVobw  WarK  4x5,  416.  HJke ...  Anthoor]  One 

Catfiur :]  Oesar  !  Rowe^ + .  Casar^  Cap.  cooj. 

OfK  et  seq.  419L  ilaume.1  iiawM  :  Tbeoix  et  set}. 

4l<\  411.  Diaiiem:  ...Jixfiris^  Dia-  421-423.  71jcr..^\V^]  Lines  coding, 

dem  :  ...  Mi/iris^  K^.    DiaUewty, . . .  Mifiris^  ^eumes. .  Jeama^^^yie  JqIuh.  Vat  *  73  et 

Fy  Rowe.    Diadem  :  ,..Jiijiri/s  F^.  Ma^  seq. 

dem...mi::tress^   I^>pe«   Han.     diadem...  421.  £r]  Om.    FC 

wnstress  :  Tbeob.  et  ceL  A/pukef^  Afpects  F£ 

413.   weakenejfe .]  weaJkmess !  Rove ii  [pomdiig  tu>  tlie  Floor.  Cap. 

etseq.  425-  iM\4/puix\  TZ^  Bujrm^-^^  Dyce 

4L4>  fwaitata  J'\     ftvaUawed     F^F^,  ii»  til.     tkt  aspick  Cap.  el  ceL 


Rove  L  uenarx]  rtfb£r  Bailer. 

appeare'\  appear.  FT,  Rowe  L  Camez\  camrre  Pezring. 


414»  415.  "twoold  appeare  B^r  eater nalt  sweHm^J  Bucx^zu.  yp.  22i>  ciaotts 
from  Ward's  Diary  : — *■  Wbea  eoe  was  pobooed  at  CovenCne,  hee  w«s  taken  vl^  oet 
of  his  gptve ;  but  as  the  apotbecaiie  said  the  earth  would  keep  him  from  swcian^  » 
that  QO  judgemefit  could  be  made  thereby  ;  but  beixxg  opened^  ther  &nnid  t&e  poisoa 
io  his  stomach.' — MoYSS  1  p.  5$^ :  [This  speech  of  Cjcsbt]  e^ridently  *— **f«<Wi*  a 
yopaJar  beSief,  though  what  has  given  rise  to  it  is  ooC  dear 

419.  aomecbrng  blowne]  J*  u  >^son  :  The  t)esh  is  somewhat  pmfed  or  rmWa 
41^  v^QQ  thft  Cinn>  of  H^dbt]  HmrtSB.  (it»  291)  r  Mr  Banr  haa  s^BB^iKd  tt» 


ACTV,  sc.  ii.]         ANTHONY  AND   CLEOPATRA  375 

Cce/ar.     Moft  probable 
That  fo  fhe  dyed  :  for  her  Phyfitian  tels  mee  425 

She  hath  purfu'de  Conclufions  infinite 
Of  eafie  wayes  to  dye.     Take  vp  her  bed, 
And  beare  her  Women  from  the  Monument, 
She  fhall  be  buried  by  her  Anthony, 

No  Graue  vpon  the  earth  fhall  clip  in  it  430 

A  payre  fo  famous  :  high  euents  as  thefe 
Strike  thofe  that  make  them  :  and  their  Story  is 
No  lefle  in  pitty,then  his  Glory  which 
Brought  them  to  be  lamented.     Our  Army  fhall 
In  folemne  fhew,  attend  this  Funerall,  435 

And  then  to  Rome.     Come  DolabellUy  fee 
High  Order,  in  this  great  Solmemnity.       Exeunt  otnnes        437 

FINIS. 

431.  famous  .•]  famous,  Rowe  ct  seq.  437.  Solmemnity\  F,. 

me  that  for  '  caves '  we  should  read  canes^  the  reeds  of  Nile.  This  reading  may  be 
supported  by  the  following  passage  in  the  writings  of  Bishop  Taylor : — *  The  canes 
of  Egypt,  when  they  newly  arise  from  their  bed  of  mud  and  slime  of  Nilus,  start  into 
equal  and  continual  length,  and  are  interrupted  with  hard  knots/  etc. — Collier. 
(ed.  i)  :  It  is  very  obvious  that  the  aspick  might  leave  its  slime  upon  the  'caves'  of 
Nile  as  well  as  upon  the  cams  of  Nile. — Hudson  :  Alexandria  was  supplied  with 
water  brought  from  the  Nile  in  underground  canals;  which  may  be  the  caves  meant. 

426.  She  hath  pursu'de  Conclusions  infinite]  Steevens  :  To  *  pursue  con- 
clusions/ is  to  try  experiments.  So,  in  Hamlet :  *•  like  the  famous  ape,  To  try  coH' 
elusions^  etc.  [Ill,  iv,  194.]  Again,  in  Cymbeline  :  *•  I  did  amplify  my  judgment  in 
Oihtx  conclusions.^  [I,  v,  17.] 

427.  Of  easie  wayes  to  dye]  Steevens  :  Such  was  the  death  brought  on  by  the 
aspick' s  venom.  Thus  Lucan,  lib.  ix,  815  :  'At  tibi,  Leve  miser,  fixus  prsecordia 
pressit  Niliac&  serpente  cruor;  nuUoque  dolore  Testatus  morsus,  subitA  caligine 
mortem  Accipis,  et  Stygias  somno  descendis  ad  umbras.' — [Singer  takes,  without 
acknowledgement,  this  quotation  from  Steevens,  as  is  evident  from  his  copying  an 
error  in  the  numbering  of  the  lines,  and  Steevens  took  it,  without  acknowledgement, 
from  Theobald,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  gives  a  wealth  of  classical  references  to  this 
subject. — Ed.] 

430.  shall  clip]  Steevens  :  That  is,  enfold.     See  II,  vii,  80 ;  and  IV,  viii,  10. 

431-434.  high  euents  as  these  .  .  .  lamented]  Capell  (i,  54) :  The  concise- 
ness of  this  reflection,  and  of  that  it  is  follow'd  by,  is  attended  with  some  obscurity ; 
but  the  meaning  of  them  seems  to  be  this : — The  very  causers  of  events  like  the  pres- 
ent, cannot  help  being  touch* d  by  them  :  and  the  pitifulness  of  them  will  set  them  as 
high  in  fame,  as  conquest  will  the  person  that  wrought  them. 

437.  It  cannot  but  prove  interesting,  I  think,  to  read  the  account  of  the  closing 


376  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v.  sc.  iL 

events  of  this  historical  Tragedy  as  given  by  Dion  Cassius  (after  Plutarch  one  of  our 
best  historians  of  these  days),  especially  since  in  several  Dramatic  Versions  the  two 
accounts,  Plutarch's  and  Dion  Cassius's,  have  been  interwoven.  For  Plutarch's 
account,  see,  of  course,  the  Appendix. — Dion  Cassius  (vol.  iii,  p.  323,  trans,  by  Pro- 
fessor H.  B.  Foster,  1906,  Troy,  N.  Y.) :  Antony  after  his  unexpected  setback  took 
refuge  in  his  fleet  and  prepared  to  have  a  combat  on  the  water,  or  in  any  case  to  sail 
to  Spain.  Cleopatra  seeing  this  caused  the  ships  to  desert  and  she  herself  rushed 
suddenly  into  the  mausoleum  pretending  that  she  feared  Caesar  and  desired  by  some 
means  to  destroy  herself  before  capture,  but  really  as  an  invitation  to  Antony  to  enter 
there  also.  He  had  an  inkling  that  he  was  being  betrayed,  but  his  infatuation  would 
not  allow  him  to  believe  it,  and,  as  one  might  say,  he  pitied  her  more  than  himself. 
Cleopatra  was  fully  aware  of  this  and  hoped  that  if  he  should  be  informed  that  she 
was  dead,  he  would  not  prolong  his  life,  but  meet  death  at  once.  Accordingly,  she 
hastened  into  the  monument  with  one  eunuch  and  two  female  attendants  and  from 
there  sent  a  message  to  him  to  the  effect  that  she  had  passed  away.  When  he  heard  it, 
he  did  not  delay,  but  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  follow  her  in  death.  Then  first  he 
asked  one  of  the  bystanders  to  slay  him,  but  the  man  drew  a  sword  and  dispatched 
himself.  Wishing  to  imitate  his  courage  Antony  gave  himself  a  wound  and  fell  upon 
his  face,  causing  the  bystanders  to  think  that  he  was  dead.  An  outcry  was  raised  at 
his  deed,  and  Cleopatra  hearing  it  leaned  out  over  the  top  of  the  monument  By  a 
certain  contrivance  its  doors  once  closed  could  not  be  opened  again,  but  above,  near 
the  ceiling,  it  had  not  yet  been  completed.  That  was  where  they  saw  her  leaning 
out  and  some  began  to  utter  shouts  that  reached  the  ears  of  Antony.  He,  learning 
that  she  survived,  stood  up  as  if  he  had  still  the  power  to  live ;  but  a  great  gush  of 
blood  from  his  wound  made  him  despair  of  rescue  and  he  besought  those  present  to 
carry  him  to  the  monument  and  to  hoist  him  by  the  ropes  that  were  hanging  there  to 
elevate  stone  blocks.     This  was  done  and  he  died  there  on  Cleopatra's  bosom. 

She  now  began  to  feel  confidence  in  Caesar  and  immediately  made  him  aware  of 
what  had  taken  place,  but  did  not  feel  altogether  confident  that  she  would  experience 
no  harm.  Hence  she  kept  herself  within  the  structure,  in  order  that  if  there  should 
be  no  other  motive  for  her  preservation,  she  might  at  least  purchase  pardon  and  her 
sovereignty  through  fear  about  her  money.  Even  then  in  such  depths  of  calamity 
she  remembered  that  she  was  queen,  and  chose  rather  to  die  with  the  name  and 
dignities  of  a  sovereign  than  to  live  as  an  ordinary  person.  It  should  be  stated  that 
she  kept  fire  on  hand  to  use  upon  her  money  and  asps  and  other  reptiles  to  use  upon 
herself,  and  that  she  had  tried  the  latter  on  human  beings  to  see  in  what  way  they 
killed  in  each  case.  Caesar  was  anxious  to  make  himself  master  of  her  treasures,  to 
seize  her  alive,  and  to  take  her  back  for  his  triumph.  However,  as  he  had  given 
her  a  kind  of  pledge,  he  did  not  wish  to  appear  to  have  acted  personally  aA  an 
impostor,  since  this  would  prevent  him  from  treating  her  as  a  captive  and  to  a  certain 
extent  subdued  against  her  will.  He  therefore  sent  to  her  Gains  Proculeius,  a  knight, 
and  Epaphroditus,  a  freedman,  giving  them  directions  what  they  must  say  and  do. 
So  they  obtained  an  audience  with  Qeopatra  and  after  some  accusations  of  a  mild 
type  suddenly  laid  hold  of  her  before  any  decision  was  reached.  Then  they  put  out 
of  her  way  ever}'ihing  by  which  she  could  bring  death  upon  herself  and  allowed  her 
to  spend  some  days  where  she  was,  since  the  embalming  of  Antony's  body  claimed 
her  attention.  After  that  they  took  her  to  the  palace,  but  did  not  remove  any  of  her 
accustomed  retinue  or  attendants,  to  the  end  that  she  should  still  more  hope  to 
accomplish  her  wishes  and  do  no  harm  to  herself.     When  she  expressed  a  desire  to 


ACT  V,  sc.  ii.]        ANTHONY  AND    CLEOPATRA  377 

appear  before  Caesar  and  converse  with  him,  it  was  granted ;  and  to  beguile  her  still 
more,  he  promised  that  he  would  come  to  her  himself. 

She  accordingly  prepared  a  luxurious  apartment  and  costly  couch,  and  adorned 
herself  further  in  a  kind  of  careless  fashion, — for  her  mourning  garb  mightily  became 
her, — and  seated  herself  upon  the  couch ;  beside  her  she  had  placed  many  images 
of  his  father,  of  all  sorts,  and  in  her  bosom  she  had  put  all  the  letters  that  his  father 
had  sent  her.  When,  after  this,  Caesar  entered,  she  hastily  arose,  blushing,  and  said : 
*  Hail,  master.  Heaven  has  given  joy  to  you  and  taken  it  from  me.  But  you  see  with 
your  own  eyes  your  father  in  the  guise  in  which  he  often  visited  me,  and  you  may 
hear  how  he  honored  me  in  various  ways  and  made  me  queen  of  the  Egyptians.  That 
you  may  learn  what  were  his  own  words  about  me,  take  and  read  the  missives  which 
he  sent  me  with  his  own  hand.* 

As  she  spoke  thus,  she  read  aloud  many  endearing  expressions  of  his.  And  now 
she  would  lament  and  caress  the  letters  and  again  fall  before  his  images  and  do  them 
reverence.  She  kept  turning  her  eyes  toward  Csesar,  and  melodiously  continued  to 
bewail  her  fate.  She  spoke  in  melting  tones,  saying  at  one  time, '  Of  what  avail 
Caesar,  are  these  your  letters  ? '  and  at  another,  <  But  in  the  man  before  me  you  also 
are  alive  for  me.'  Then  again,  '  Would  that  I  had  died  before  you  1 '  and  still  again, 
'  But  if  I  have  him,  I  have  you ! '  Some  such  diversity  both  of  words  and  of  gestures 
did  she  employ,  at  the  same  time  gazing  at  and  murmuring  to  him  sweetly.  Caesar 
comprehended  her  outbreak  of  passion  and  appeal  for  sympathy.  Yet  he  did  not  pre- 
tend to  do  so,  but  letting  his  eyes  rest  upon  the  ground,  he  said  only  this^  *  Be  of 
cheer,  woman,  and  keep  a  good  heart,  for  no  harm  shall  befall  you.'  She  was  dis- 
tressed that  he  would  neither  look  at  her  nor  breathe  a  word  about  the  kingdom  or 
any  sigh  of  love,  and  fell  at  his  knees  wailing :  '  Life  for  me,  Caesar,  is  neither  desir- 
able nor  possible.  This  favor  I  beseech  of  you  in  memory  of  your  father, — that  since 
Heaven  gave  me  to  Antony  after  him,  I  may  also  die  with  my  lord.  Would  that  I 
had  perished  on  the  very  instant  after  Caesar*s  death !  But  since  this  present  fate 
was  my  destiny,  send  me  to  Antony :  grudge  me  not  burial  with  him,  that  as  I  die 
because  of  him,  so  in  Hades  also  I  may  dwell  with  him.' 

Such  words  she  uttered  expecting  to  obtain  commiseration  :  Caesar,  however,  made 
no  answer  to  it  Fearing,  however,  that  she  might  make  away  with  herself  he  exhorted 
her  again  to  be  of  good  cheer,  did  not  remove  any  of  her  attendants,  and  kept  a  care- 
ful watch  upon  her,  that  she  might  add  brilliance  to  his  triumph.  Suspecting  this, 
and  regarding  it  as  worse  than  innumerable  deaths,  she  began  to  desire  really  to  die 
and  begged  Caesar  frequently  that  she  might  be  allowed  to  perish  in  some  way, 
and  devised  many  plans  by  herself.  When  she  could  accomplish  nothing,  she  feigned 
to  change  her  mind  and  to  repose  great  hope  in  him,  as  well  as  great  hope  in  Livia. 
She  said  she  would  sail  voluntarily  and  made  ready  many  treasured  adornments  as 
gifts.  In  this  way  she  hoped  to  inspire  confidence  that  she  had  no  designs  upon  her- 
self, and  so  be  more  free  from  scrutiny  and  bring  about  her  destruction.  This  also 
took  place.  The  other  officials  and  Epaphroditus,  to  whom  she  had  been  committed, 
believed  that  her  state  of  mind  was  really  as  it  seemed,  and  neglected  to  keep  a  care- 
fiil  watch.  She,  meanwhile,  was  making  preparations  to  die  as  painlessly  as  possi- 
ble. First  she  gave  a  sealed  paper,  in  which  she  begged  Caesar  to  order  that  she  be 
buried  beside  Antony,  to  Epaphroditus  himself  to  deliver,  pretending  that  it  con- 
tained some  other  matter.  Having  by  this  excuse  freed  herself  of  his  presence,  she 
set  to  her  task.  She  put  on  her  most  beauteous  apparel  and  after  choosing  a  most 
becoming  pose,  assumed  all  the  royal  robes  and  appurtenances,  and  so  died.    No  one 


378  THE   TRACED  IE  OF  [act  v,  sc.  ii. 

knows  clearly  in  what  manner  she  perished,  for  there  were  found  merely  slight 
indentations  on  her  arm.  Some  say^that  she  applied  an  asp  which  had  been  brought 
in  to  her  in  a  water-jar  or  among  some  flowers.  Others  declare  that  she  had  smeared 
a  needle,  with  which  she  was  wont  to  braid  her  hair,  with  some  poison  possessed  of 
such  properties  that  it  would  not  injure  the  surface  of  the  body  at  all,  but  if  it  touched 
the  least  drop  of  blood  it  caused  death  very  quickly  and  painlessly.  The  supposition 
is,  then,  that  previously  it  had  been  her  custom  to  wear  it  in  her  hair,  and  on  this 
occasion  after  first  making  a  small  scratch  on  her  arm  with  some  instrument,  she 
dipped  the  needle  in  the  blood.  In  this  or  some  very  similar  way  she  perished  with 
her  two  handmaidens.  The  eunuch,  at  the  moment  her  body  was  taken  up,  pre- 
sented himself  voluntarily  to  the  serpents,  and  after  being  bitten  by  them  leaped  into 
a  coffin  which  had  been  prepared  by  him.  Caesar  on  hearing  of  her  demise  was 
shocked,  and  both  viewed  her  body  and  applied  drugs  to  it  and  sent  for  Psylli,*  in 
the  hope  that  she  might  possibly  revive.  These  Psylli,  who  are  male,  for  there  is  no 
woman  bom  in  their  tribe,  have  the  power  of  sucking  out  before  a  person  dies  all  the 
poison  of  every  reptile  and  are  not  harmed  themselves  when  bitten  by  any  such  crea- 
ture. They  are  propagated  from  one  another  and  they  test  their  offspring,  the  latter 
being  thrown  among  serpents  at  once  or  having  serpents  laid  upon  their  swaddling- 
clothes.  In  such  cases  the  poisonous  creatures  do  not  harm  the  child  and  are 
benumbed  by  its  clothing.  This  is  the  nature  of  their  function.  But  Caesar,  when 
he  could  not  in  any  way  resuscitate  Qeopatra,  felt  admiration  and  pity  for  her  and 
was  himself  excessively  grieved,  as  much  as  if  he  had  been  deprived  of  all  the  glory 
of  the  victory. 

*  Compare  Pliny,  Natural  History ^  zxi,  78.  [Book  VII,  chap,  ii,  p.  154,  Holland's 
Trans,  ed,  1635.] 


APPENDIX 


t 


APPENDIX 


DATE  OF  COMPOSITION 

Steevens  is,  I  believe,  the  earliest  among  editors  to  attempt  to  fix  the  Date  of 
publication  of  this  play.  In  the  Variorum  of  1785  (p.  131)  he  calls  attention  to 
the  following  entry  in  the  Stationer^  Registers  : 

xix''  Utr  i^rtiilirifl.  [i593] 

Symond  water-    Entred  for  his  Copie  vnder  th  andes  of  bothe  the  wardens  a  booke 

son.  intituled  The  Tragedye  of  Qeopatra        .  .        .  .        vjd* 

This  Symon  Waterson,  Steevens  goes  on  to  say,  was  the  printer  of  some  of  Daniel's 
works;  the  foregoing  entry  probably  refers,  therefore,  *to  Daniel* s  Cieopatra,  oi 
which  there  are  several  editions.'  Steevens  found  a  second  entry,  of  which  he 
remarks  that  <  it  is  the  first  notice  I  have  met  with  concerning  any  edition  of  this 
play,  more  ancient  than  the  folio  of  1623.'     It  is  as  follows: 

20  tmin  [1608] 

Edward  Blount.    Entred  for  his  copie  vnder  th  andes  of  Sir  George  Buck  knight 

and  Master  Warden  Seton  A  booke  called.  The  booke  of  Pericles 
prynce  of  Tyre         yjd 

Edward  Blunt.      Entred  also  for  his  copie  by  the  lyke  Aucthoritie.    A  booke 

Called.  Anthony,  and  Qeopatra         YJ^  t 

Malone,  in  his  edition  of  1790,  says,  in  his  notice  oi  Julius  Qtsar  (vol.  i,  p.  369), 
that '  we  have  certain  proof  that  Antony  and  Cleopatra  was  composed  before  the  mid- 
dle of  the  year  1608.'  This  certain  proof  is  the  entry  in  the  Stationers  Registers  of 
that  year,  but  Malone  gives  a  slightly  wrong  impression  in  saying  that  the  20th  of  May 
is  '  before  the  middle  of  the  year ' ;  the  year  then  began  in  March  and  the  middle  of 
the  year  fell  in  September.  As  a  further  corroboration  of  this  date,  1608,  he  observes 
(p.  372)  that  *in  Ben  Jonson's  Silent  IVoman,  IV,  iv  [IV,  ii,  ed.  Gifford],  1609,  this 
play  seems  to  be  alluded  to  :  *' Morose.  Nay,  I  would  sit  out  a  play,  that  were  nothing 
hai Jigkls  at  sea,  drum,  trumpet,  and  target."  '  If  the  reference  be  here  to  Antony  b* 
Cleopatray  the  play  which  is  *  nothing  Imt  fights  at  sea  *  dwindles  to  a  single  stage- 
direction  *  Alarum  as  at  a  sea  fight.' — IV,  xii,  I.  The  flimsiness  of  the  pretence  of 
adducing  this  quotation  from  Jonson  as  an  indication  of  the  date  of  Anthony  &*  Cleo- 
patra is  thus  exposed  by  Gifford  :  •  Long  before  77ie  Silent  JVoman  was  written, 
nay,  before  Shakespeare  was  known  to  the  stage,  the  theatres  were  in  possession  of 
many  rude  pieces  founded  on  the  remarkable  events  of  our  history,  of  which  battles, 
etc.,  always  formed  a  prominent  feature.  The  miserable  attempts  to  represent  these 
favourite  scenes,  were  often  made  a  subject  of  mirth  by  succeeding  writers.*     Never- 

*  Aiber's  Transcript,  II,  638.  f  Arber's  Transcript,  III,  378. 

38X 


382 


APPENDIX 


theless,  George  Chalmers,  the  next  critic  who  deals  with  the  Chrooologj  of  the 
Plmys,  lepeats  Malone's  quotation  from  Ttu  Silent  W&mutm  without  dissent ;  he  also 
accepts  the  proof  to  be  drawn  from  the  entry  in  the  Statiomer^  Registers  as  coochisiTe^ 
and  observes  that  if  this  tragedy  were  written  as  a  sequel  to  JmUms  Cesar,  *  it  maj, 
perhaps,  have  been  written  in  the  beginnii^  of  the  year  160S.'  He  also  opines 
(Si^pUmental  Apolo^,  17999  P>  4S2)  ^hat  *  like  other  preceding  dramas,  this  tragcdj 
had  been  suggested  to  the  observant  mind  of  Shakespeare,  by  prior  intimations^  .  . . 
The  arguBoent  of  Daniel's  Cltopaira  may  have  furnished  the  more  dramatic  genius  of 
Shakespeare  with  several  hints,  which  he  well  knew  how  to  work  into  a  better  farm. 
He  had  seen  in  T^e  Dfzils  Im^amate,  in  1596,  which  he  had  attentively  read, 
what  Lodge  had  remarked,  how  "Anthony,  dallyii^  in  ddligfats  with  Cleopatra, 
gave  Cesar  opportunitie  of  many  victories.'* ' 

Knight  is  the  next  editor  to  discuss  the  Date.  In  the  Intrvdwutiom  to  Cerioiamms 
(p.  148)  he  remarks  :  *  In  1623  Blount  and  Jaggard,  the  publishers  of  the  Iblio,  ester 
**  Mr.  William  Shakspere's  Comedies,  Histories,  and  Tragedies,  so  many  of  the  sud 
copies  as  are  cot  formerly  entered  to  other  men.'*  Amongst  diese  is  Anijmy  amd 
Cleofatra,  All  the  plays  thus  entered  in  1 623  were  unpublxshed;  and  noC  one  of  them, 
with  the  exception  of  Anitmy  and  Cleopatra^  had  been  **  formerly  entered  ^  by  name. 
It  ts  therefore  more  than  probable  that  the  ^«/itf»Ta»i/CZn;^)a/>'tfexiter^  1608  was 
not  Shakspere's  tragedy  ;  and  we  therefore  reject  this  entry  as  any  evidence  dkat  Siak- 
spere's  Antamy  ami  CUtrpatra  was  written  as  early  as  1608.  Upon  the  date  of  Aii 
play  depends*  according  to  Malooe,  the  date  of  JuHms  C*aar.  We  state,  unhesitat- 
ingly, that  there  is  no  iniemal  evidence  whatever  for  the  dates  of  any  of  the  three 
Roman  plays.  We  believe  that  they  belong  to  the  same  cycle;  but  we  would  piiaoe 
that  later  in  Shakspere's  life  than  is  ordinarily  doce.  Malone  places  them  together, 
properly  enough  ;  but  in  assuming  that  they  were  written  in  1607,  160S,  and  1610^ 
his  theory  makes  Shdcspere  almost  absolutely  unemployed  for  &e  last  seven  yeas 
of  his  Ii£e.  We  hold  that  his  last  irears  were  devoted  to  these  plays.* — [Knighfs 
asscrtton  that  *'  xU  the  pUys*  entered  in  the  Fust  Fo£o  list  *  were  unpublished,*  is, 
possibly^  a  little  rash,  and  yet  it  is  diiScnlt  to  disprove  it.  He  is  ca  firaaer  ground 
when  he  says  that  it  is  ''more  than  probable'  that  die  Anthamy  ami  devpatra  of  i^ 
is  not  Shakespeare's  tragedy, — ground  which,  I  rf*"»^,  has  been  ^*«m;w^»^  \^  e£iars 
and  cridcs  with  hardly  sufficient  care.  It  raises  another  mysteif  ;  the  ever-recuiriag 
mysteries  connected  with  the  Quartos  has  a  tendency  to  become  moootciaous.  The 
Edward  Bluunt  who  entered  the  copy  of  Antktmy  ixmi  CItopatra.  m  1608  ss  the  sane 
Edward  Hlount  who  with  William  Joggard  entered  die  copy  of  the  First  Folio  oa 
the  eighth  of  November,  1625,  and  the  terms  of  the  latter  entry  expressiy  esdade 
<-  see  manie '  of  the  *-  Come>iyes,  Histories^  and  Tragedy es '  **  as  are  not  kxxatAf 
eotred  tu  other  men.'  In  the  list  which  follows  there  stands  our  present  Anlimk 
ami  CUopaira,  Why,  it  may  be  asked«  should  Edward  Blount  mHi^fl^  this  play  ii 
1023,  seeing  that  he  had  .ilready  received  the  license  to  print  it  in  i6g8  ?  To  he 
sure,  it  hod  not  bet^n  encered  to  an  *■  other  man.'  but  it  hod  been  entered  to  fc™»<rft^ 
and,  if,  in  lQOi$,  u  zvus  ^'Aaaesprare  i  piar.  why  should  be  desire  to  talbe  out  a  dodale 
license  ?  Why  shonid  it  be  mentioned  at  aH,  seeing  dtat^  if  t^  r6a6  emirr  was  dk 
present  piay  it  was  already  bis  property?  The  list,  as  it  stands  in  the  :Satime^ 
Jfe^fs/ers^  of  unlicensed  plavs  by  :5hakespeare  which  Blount  and  Tagj^i*'^ 
licensed  to  print  in  1623  is  as  follows:  * 


♦-Vrbers  Transcript^  iv,  107. 


DATE  OF  COMPOSITION 


383 


COMEDYES     ' 


Histories 


The  Tempest 

The  Two  gentlemen  of  Verona 

Measure  for  Measure 

The  Comedy  of  Errors 

As  you  like  it 

Airs  well  that  ends  well 

Twelfe  night 

The  winters  tale 


{The  thirde  parte  of  Henry  ye  Sdct 
Henry  the  Eight 


r  CORIOLANUS 

TiMON  of  Athens 

Julius  Caesar 

Mackbeth 

Anthonie  and  Cleopatra 

Cymbeline 


As  Knight  says,  *  not  one  of  these,  with  the  exception  of  Anihonie  and  Cleopatra^ 
had  been  *<  formerly  entred  '*  by  name.'  And,  to  repeat  what  I  have  just  said,  if  the 
1608  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  were  Shakespeare's,  and  already  the  property  of  Edward 
Blount,  it  is  not  clear  why  it  should  have  been  entered  again.  When,  therefore. 
Knight  rejects  the  date  of  1608  as  a  proof  that  Shakespeare  wrote  the  present  play  in 
that  year,  even-handed  justice  must  acknowledge  that  there  is  colour  for  his  rejection, 
and,  furthermore,  all  who,  confiding  on  this  date,  erect  their  scheme  of  the  chro- 
nology of  these  plays,  do  so  on  a  foundation  which,  in  respect  to  the  present  play,  is 
not  flawless. 


Tragedies 


G.  C.  Verplanck  gives  a  late  date  to  the  three  plays  Coriolanus^  Julius  Casar, 
and  the  present  play,  because  Shakespeare,  in  these  tragedies,  preserves  throughout 
'  an  artist-like  keeping,  which,  combined  with  their  dramatic  skill,  the  constant  pro- 
pensity of  the  author  to  moral  or  political  argument  or  reasoning,  and  the  more 
habitual  and  mature  tone  of  his  philosophy,  as  well  as  with  the  evidence  of  diction 
and  versi6cation,  gives  strong  attestation  that  they  belong  to  that  later  epoch  of 
Shakespeare's  authorship,  when  (to  use  Coleridge's  discriminating  criticism)  <'the 
energies  of  intellect  in  the  cycle  of  genius  become  predominant  over  passion  and 
creative  self-manifestation."  This  period  I  should  place  as  beginning  after  the  pro- 
duction of  Z^rar  and  Macbeth^  in  1608  or  1609,  or  about  the  Poet's  forty-fifth  year. 
Besides  those  reasons  for  ascribing  the  Roman  dramas  to  this  date,  which  appeal 
only  to  the  reader's  taste  and  feeling,  the  following  considerations  seem  also  of  some 
weight.  Coriolanus  and  its  Plutarchian  companions  appeared  first  in  print  in  the 
posthumous  folio  of  1623,  and  they  were  then  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register  as 
among  the  plays  in  that  volume  "  not  formerly  entered  to  other  men."  This  was  the 
case  with  all  Shakespeare's  later  works,  either  produced  or  remodelled  after  Lear ; 
for  it  appears  that  after  Othello^  Hamlet^  and  Lear  had  placed  him  far  above  his  con- 
temporaries, his  plays  became  of  too  much  value  to  the  theatrical  company  which  held 
the  copies  to  be  suffered  to  go  into  the  market  as  mere  literary  property.  Again  : 
there  is  no  period  of  Shakespeare's  life,  except  the  last  seven  or  eight  years,  where 
we  can  well  find  room  for  the  production  of  these  dramas.     We  well  know  from 


384 


APPENDIX 


▼arious  sources  what  were  the  luxuriant  products  of  his  youthful  genius  until  159^* 
During  the  succeeding  ten  years  we  find  him  with  his  full  share  of  interest  and 
occupation  in  the  management  and  pecuniary  concerns  of  his  theatre,  yet  employed 
in  the  enlargement  of  his  HamUt  *  to  as  much  again  as  it  was/  the  imponoTement  and 
revision  of  some  of  his  comedies,  and  the  composition  of  As  You  Like  It^  Muck  Adt 
Ahomt  Nothings  Twelfth  Nighty  very  probably  of  sereral  of  his  English  historical 
plays,  and  of  T^mon^  and  certainly  of  Othello^  Measure  for  Measure^  TroUus  and 
Cressida^  Lear^  and  Macbeth,  It  can  scarcely  be  thought  that  he  had  then  leisure 
to  add  the  Roman  tragedies  to  all  these.  On  the  other  hand,  if  there  had  been  no 
trace  of  any  additional  authorship  after  1609,  we  might  infer  that  he  had  been  inca- 
pacitated by  disease,  or  drawn  away  by  some  other  cause  firom  composition ;  bat  as 
we  know  that  after  that  date  he  revised  or  greatly  enlarged  some  dramas,  and  wrote 
two  or  three  new  ones,  we  hare  fur  more  reason  to  presume  that  some  portion  of  his 
leisure,  after  he  had  returned  to  his  xiative  village,  during  which  be  wrote  die  Tern- 
ftst^  was  also  employed  in  the  composition  of  these  tragedies,  filed  like  that,  his 
last  poetic  comedy,  with  grave  and  deep  reflections,  wide  moral  speculatioo,  and  the 
sobered  energy  of  mature  but  calm  power,  than  to  believe  that  they  were  poured 
fofth  in  the  same  rapid  torrent  of  invention  and  passionate  thought  which,  daring  the 
ten  preceding  years  of  the  Poefs  life,  had  enriched  English  literatme  with  Bore  of 
original  dramatic  character,  and  poetic  sentiment  and  ezpiessioQ,  than  it  owes  to  the 
life  of  any  other  author. 

Crakus  Bathvkst  (p.  150)  :  Entered  00  the  Stationers'  books.  May  2,  1608L 
This  is  a  valuable  date,  foe  the  verse  is  still  more  diecked  and  cut  19  (as  in  ks 
fo«rth  style)  than  in  CorwlaMmx^  Put  ^  my  kelwut  to  My  commftymmu,  m  Jtmmm, 
Remarkably  so«  in  the  change  of  person  in  dialogue;  bat  it  is  far  firom  having  the 
same  load  of  ideas,  nor  stiffness^  The  mind  of  the  reader  woold  fiow  oa  moie  fredy, 
than  in  Corioiamus^  If  the  ear  were  allowed  to  do  sol  It  is  a  Ev  move  iiieguin; 
varied*  play, — more,  perhapsv  than  any  he  has  written.  There  is,  however,  still 
of  the  crampoess  of  a  lesson  oat  of  a  book,  in  die  political  parts..  Widt  this 
ness  goes  correctness  of  taste.  There  are  not  the  (knits  of  cardessDess  or  of 
unchecked  want  of  taste,  whidi  are  coamion  in  the  earlier  plays^  Mere  umLriti, 
pans,  indelicacy,  we  do  not  see  madi  oL  There  are  many  doable  encfings  in  thb 
pUy. 


G.  G.  GwtviNUS  (it»  3x2, 1872.  4Ce  Anfiage) :  It  may  wdl  be  that  by  the  'hookc,* 
entcffed  by  Bioane,  the  present  play  is  meant,  and  that  its  date  of  cooBpasitiaa  may  be 
set  down  as  in  i^oj-S^  Indications  of  a  common  treatment  of  material,  oertna 
pecuhanties  of  style,  poesibly  even  more  than  these,  die  pocf  s  firame  of  mnd  at  tkr 
timeb  place  this  play  near  to  7>o.  ^  Cress^  which  may  also  tend  to  <■■»»*?■■*  das  1 


The  late  date  of  the  present  play  is  cmfobotAled  by  die  Metrical  Testa.  Fiob 
the  care6d[  Table,  prepared  by  Prof.  l!<(C&AX  ( Xew  Sk,  Sec.  Tr^ms.  1874,  p.  450), 
of  Shakespeare's  use  of  light  and  weak  endings^  Frocl  Ingram  deduLes  the  fciQowiiC 


*  I.  Daring  die  first  three-ftnoths  (or  dsereaboots)  of  Shakspere*s  podk  life,  W 
used  th*  light  endings  [sach  as  om,  ttre,  art,  ie^  ortm,  cam,  etc]  very  spazia^y,  mi 
tha  weak  endings  [such  as  ami\.  ar^  at^  by.  Jtrr^frmm.  etc]  scarcdy  at  alL 

'  X.  Ttke  last  fourth  ^or  thereaboots)  is  obvionsly  ami  umaBtakeahlj 


DATE   OF  COMPOSITION  385 

from  the  earlier  stages  by  the  very  great  increase  of  the  number  of  light  endings, 
and,  still  more,  by  the  first  appearance  in  any  appreciable  number,  and  afterwards 
the  steady  growth,  of  the  weak  endings. 

'  3.  Hence,  in  any  discrimination  of  |>eriods  which  is  founded  on  metrical  con- 
siderations, this  last  may  be  called  the  <<  weak-ending  Period. '^  ... 

'  7.  The  weak  endings  do  not  come  in  by  slow  degrees,  but  the  poet  seems  to 
have  thrown  himself  at  once  into  this  new  structure  of  verse  ;  28  examples  occurring 
in  Ant.  and  CUop.y  whilst  there  are  not  more  than  two  in  any  earlier  play.' 

Accordingly,  in  Prof.  Ingram's  Table,  Ant.  6r*  Cleop,  is  the  twenty-sixth  in  order, 
and  is  followed  only  by  *  Coriolanus^  PericUs  (Shakspere's  part).  Tempest^  Cymbeline^ 
Hunter's  Tale,  Henry  r///(Shakspere's  part).' 

J.  O.  Halliwkll-Phillipps  {Outlines,  5th  ed.  p.  187):  About  the  time  that 
Pericles  was  so  well  received  at  the  Globe,  the  tragedy  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  was 
in  course  of  performance  at  the  same  theatre,  but,  although  successful,  it  did  not 
equal  the  former  in  popularity.  It  was,  however,  sufficiently  attractive  for  Blount  to 
secure  the  consent  of  the  Master  of  the  Revels  to  its  publication  and  also  for  the 
company  to  frustrate  his  immediate  design. — [In  his  Illustrative  Notes,  Halliwell 
attempts  to  substantiate  the  foregoing  positive  assertions  by  adducing  two  inferences. 
On  the  words  '  although  successful '  there  is  the  following  note  (p.  524)  :  <  This 
*  fact  may  be  inferred  from  the  entry  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  of  1608,  to  Edward 
'Blount  of  *<his  copie  by  the  lyke  aucthoritie,  a  booke  called  Anthony  and  Cleo- 
* "  patra."  The  "  like  authority  "  refers  to  the  sanction  of  Sir  George  Buck  and  the 
'  company,  as  appears  from  the  previous  entry  in  the  register,  so  that  Blount  was  no 
'  doubt  in  possession  of  the  copyright  of  the  authentic  play.  If  he  printed  it  in  1608, 
'  no  copy  of  the  impression  is  now  known  to  exist,  the  earliest  edition  which  has  been 
'preserved  being  that  in  the  collective  work  of  1623,  of  which  Blount  was  one  of 
'the  publishers;  and  although  it  is  included  in  the  list  of  tragedies  "as  are  not 
'  "formerly  entred  to  other  men"  in  the  notice  of  the  copyright  of  the  folio,  it  is 
'  still  not  impossible  that  an  earlier  separate  edition  was  issued  by  him.  There  are 
'indications  that  the  list  of  non-entered  plays  was  carelessly  drawn  up.'  It  is 
impossible  to  deny  Halliwell' s  assertion  that  there  are  indications  that  this  list  is 
carelessly  drawn  up;  but  he  does  not  state  what  the  indications  are;  this  at  least  is 
certain  that  it  is  so  far  careful  that  with  but  two  exceptions,  not  a  single  play  is  given 
in  it  which  has  been  before  even  referred  to  in  the  Stationers'  Registers ;  in  regard  to 
the  other  plays  which  it  specifies  the  list  is  strictly  accurate.  The  two  exceptions  are 
As  You  Like  It,  which  is  not  entered,  but  mentioned  only '  to  be  staled '  and  the  pres- 
ent play  of  Anthony  and  Cleopatra,  if  the  entry  of  20th  of  May,  1 608  really  refers  to 
it.  When,  then,  we  find  this  list  so  accurate  in  regard  to  all  the  other  plays,  I  do 
not  believe  we  are  justified  in  asserting  that  it  is  inaccurate  in  this  one  solitary  instance, 
unless  we  are  positively  certain  that  the  entry  of  20th  of  May,  1608  refers  to  Shake- 
speare's Anthony  and  Cleopatra.  Knight  and  Verplanck  believe  that  it  does  not 
And  it  is  impossible  to  contradict  them.  There  is  no  proof  whatever  that  it  is  Shake- 
speare*s  play.  We  do  not  even  know  that  it  was  a  play  at  all, — it  may  have  been  a 
prose  history.  There  is  nothing  here  but  inferences,  as  is,  unfortunately,  so  much  of 
what  Halliwell  asserts  in  his  Outlines.  For  instance,  in  the  note  (p.  525)  on  his  state- 
ment that  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  did  not  equal  Pericles  in  popularity :  '  this,'  he 
remarks,  '  may  be  gathered  from  the  rarity  of  contemporary  allusions  to  it.  The  only 
'  extrinsic  notice  of  the  tragedy  during  the  author's  life-time  ap|>ears  to  be  a  curious  one 

35 


386 


APPENDIX 


*  in  Antonys  Philosophers  Satyrs,  l6i6,  where  the  latter  poet  blames  ladies  far  encour- 

*  aging  the  performance  of  so  vicious  a  drama  by  their  presence/  Here,  in  this  note, 
there  are  two  inferences  which  are  supposed  to  substantiate  the  truth  of  an  asseiticm. 
In  its  first  line,  the  inference  is  open  and  confessed  where  it  is  said  that  if  may  he 
gathered.  The  second  inference  lies  in  assuming  that  Amon,  when  he  speaks  of 
•Orestes  incest,  Cleopatrcs  crimes'  refers  to  Shakespeare's  plaj  of  Anthony  and 
Cltopatra.  That  he  does  so,  is  purely  a  surmise  on  HaIIiwriI*s  part.  If  surmises 
be  once  allowed,  why  may  we  not  surmise  that  the  unknown  date  of  Beanmont  and 
Fletcher's  Tht  False  Om,  wherein  Qeopatra  is  the  heroine,  be  before  i6i6  ?  Weber 
places  it  before  loiS.  Only  a  linle  stretching  will  bring  it  into  i6i6,  and  then  to  it, 
and  not  to  Shakespeare,  Antonys  reference  may  ap^y.  Moreorcr,  Shakespeare  died 
in  i6i6.  Can  a  work,  which,  like  Anton's  Saiyi^  is  dated  1616,  be  stated  withoat 
qualification  to  contain  a  *■  notice  of  the  tragedy  during  the  poet's  lxfietin>e '  ? 

REC.\Pm'LATION  : 

1790    Malone 160S 

1793    Steevzns 160S 

Geo.  Chalmers 1608 

Knight       ....    •during  last  seren  years  of  Shakespeare's  life.* 
CoLUKU *  written  late  in  1607,  and  acted '  in  1608 


1799 
1S41 

1S43 
1S47 
iS57 
1^57 
1S60 

1S66 
1572 

1S74 


1S74 

«575 
i:$7<> 

iSSi 

tS95 
1901 

1904 

n.  d. 


Verpl.\n^tc 

Staunton 
Bathuilst 
R.  G.  White 

Halliwell 


•  after  160S  or  1609,  or  about  Shakespeare's  larty-6^  year.* 

written  at  end  of  1607 

?  1608 

aboat  1608 

1607  or  1606 

Dyce  (ed.  ii) a  short  time  before  1608 

GERViNfs i6g7-i6o8 

Delii's  ted.  iit>  .  in  a  comparatxirely  late  year  in  the  Bsct's  life. 

J.  K.  Ingram  twenty-sixth  in  order,  and  followed  only  by  C^^riijiaMmXy  Firi- 
cUs  ^ Shakspere's  part),  Tcmprsi^  CymdeHmt^  iVbtUr:  7j^,  Hemry  Vlll 
K  Shaksperv's  part"^. 

F.  J.    FURMY ALL ?  160^7 


A.  W.  W.\jiD 

F.  G.  FLeay 

H.  X.  Hudson    . 

Charles  Wori?sworth 

K.  Peight».\n 

C.  H.  Hbrfi.^rd 

W.  J.   R..>LFE 

The  Cowoen-Cl^irjles 


before  1008 
dated  nnamntnusly  earbr  in  1608 ' 

earlT  in  1608 


m  itJOT  or 


.    probably  written  in  1606-1607 

1607  or  1608 

?r6o8 

in  1607.  or  very  eariy  in  1608 

close  of  1607.  or  begimimg  of  1608 


DURATION'  OF  ACTION 

It  is  hardly  likely  that  Shakespeare,  in  his  KistDiical  Dramas^  psid  m«»-fc 
to  dbe  passage  <jf  tine,  either  historrcai  'Jt  dntmatic.  It  was  eiiou^h  f*****  or  the  ^BJ^ 
of  ten  years  a  genefai  sevjucnce  of  er««s  was  preserved.  In  dxese  crcomsttBA 
where  there  ine^ntabiy  exists  mtidj  shuffing  of  times,  it  is  a  task  of  extiemc  (fificrilf 
u>  nmrnvel  the  tangied  ^kein  and  to  decenmne  the  diiriaan  inm  days  of 


SOURCE   OF  THE  PLOT  387 

This  knot,  which  seems  almost  too  intrinse  to  nnloose,  Mr  P.  A.  Daniel  has  untied 
in  a  quite  triumphant  manner,  as  follows  (His  scheme  had  better  be  accepted;  it  is 
not  likely  that,  in  the  future,  anyone  with  adequate  skill  and  patience  will  be  found 
who  can  modify  it )  : 

'  Time  of  the  Play,  twelve  days  represented  on  the  stage  ;  with  intervals. 

Day  I. — Act  I,  sc.  i-iv. 

Interval — 40  days  ? 

•*     2. — Act  I,  sc.  V  ;  Act  II,  sc.  i-iii. 

"     3. — Act  II,  sc.  iv. 
iMttrval. 

**    4. — Act  II,  sc.  v-vii.     [Act  III,  sc.  iii.] 
Ifi/rrva/^ 

•*    5. — Act  III,  sc.  i  and  ii. 

[Act  III,  sc.  iii.     See  Day  4.] 
/n/erva/. 

"    6. — Act  III,  sc.  iv  and  v. 
/n/erva/, 

«     7.— Act  III,  sc.  vi. 
/n/erva/. 

«     8.— Act  III,  sc.  vii. 

"     9. — Act  III,  sc.  viii-x. 
/n/erva/. 

**  la — Act  III,  sc.  xi-xiii ;  Act  IV,  sc.  i-iii. 

"  II. — Act  IV,  sc.  iv-ix. 

"  12. — Act  IV,  sc.  x-xv ;  Act  V,  sc.  i  and  ii. 

Historic  time,  about  ten  years  :  B.C.  40  to  B.c.  30.* — Niew  Skakspere  Soc.  Tram. 
1877-9,  P-  239.  

SOURCE   OF  THE  PLOT 

After  the  painful  student  has  waded  through  the  preceding  pages  of  this  volume,  it 
seems  impertinently  superfluous  to  state  that  Shakespeare  drew  the  Source  of  his  Plot 
from  North's  Trans/ation  of  P/u/arc/t.  The  continual  references  in  the  Commentary 
to  this  portion  of  the  Appendix  are  wearisome  in  their  iteration.  Yet,  surely,  that 
miiMl  must  be  inert,  indeed,  that  finds  no  pleasure  in  observing  the  magic  whereby 
Shakespeare,  gilding  the  pale  stream  with  heavenly  alchemy,  transfigures  the  quiet 
prose,  at  times  almost  word  for  word,  into  exalted  poetry.  In  the  following  pages 
only  those  passages  are  reprinted  from  the  Life  of  An/onius  which,  in  the  Editor's 
judgement,  have  any  relation  to  the  present  play.  In  the  original  there  are  marginal 
notes,  in  Italics,  setting  forth  the  substance  of  the  adjoining  text;  in  order  to  save 
spftce  these  have  been  omitted,  and  their  places  supplied  by  references,  in  broad- 
fiiced  tjrpe,  to  Acts,  Scenes,  and  Lines  in  the  play. 

The  following  Transcrip/  is  taken  from  the  Photo/it/iograph  of  Four  Chapters  of 
Nor//es  Plutarch^  of  the  edition  of  1595,  published  in  1878,  by  Dr  F.  A.  Leo,  of 
Berlin. 


388 


APPENDIX 


PLUTARCH 


TlIK  l.IVKS  I  OF  THK  NOBLE  ORE-  |  CIANS  AND  ROMAKES,  COMPARED  |  TOGETHEt 
HY   THAT   GRAVK    LHARSED  |  PHILOSOPHER   AND    HISTORIOGRAPHER,  |  Plutorke  cf 

Ck^r^mrm :  \  TranlUtcd  out  of  Grreke  into  French  by  Iames  Axiot,  Abbot  of 
HclUv  I  zane,  Bitbop  of  Auxerre,  one  of  the  Kings  pnuie  connfell,  m&d  great  |  Amner 
of  KnincY,  and  out  of  French  into  Englilb,  bv  |  T^iymas  \i*rth.  [\lgnette]  Imprinted 
at  I  A>mk^n  by  RiohAnl  Field  for  I  Bonham  Norton.  |  1595. 


llieTteuix^n  he  left  Itaiy,  &  vent  into  Grel'E,  ^  there  bestowed  the  most  part 
of  his  time,  sometime  in  varress  and  c>iherwhile  in  the  stadie  of 
I    ••«   ^  el«>quence.    He  rsed  a  manner  of  phrase  in  his  speech,  called  Asiai 

ike,  which  caried  the  best  grace  and  eAimation  at  that  time,  and  was 
*      ^  S  '     much  like  lo  h;5  manners  and  life :  for  it  was  fell  of  ostematioQ,  fool- 
ish braoerie,  and  raine  ambition.  .  .  . 
But  besides  a!l  lhi5<  he  had  a  Dc^btie  prM.ence«  and  skewed  a  conntenance  of  00s 
(>f  a  m'^le  hovsse :  he  had  a  ^»i]y  thick e  beard,  a  broad  forehead,  crooke  nosed, 
and  there  appearvsl  snch  a  man>  lonke  ia  his  cdziniczkaxice,  as  is  ocimfnanly  seene  ia 
.Vr^,iw*>.'  picmrMk  sJair.ped  ca  graoen  in  TnettrJL     Now  it  had  bene  a  speech  of  old 

time,  tha:  the  tam:1ieos  :be  AnrrmT'wtst  discesde^d  fr..«a  ooe  Am*tm^ 

the  Sonne  of  J-Jr-  .-u.'.w  whcre:jf  the  fsm.ly  tooke  name.     This  opisioo 

4,  111,    05.       ^j-  .-?i»,-/irMf  serke  i:  cotnrmf  ic  tH  bis  doings:  ax  ^ncSy  resen- 

b:ing  bin:  in  :he  likcnesst  .if  his  'oijt.  as  we  ba^e  saiie  before,  b'J 

aJs*^  in  the  wrannj:  <*"'  ^'^  garmenii.      }  or  whet  be  w:in}i  ocie&}y  s^cwe  b3aseltt 

•bnitiid  betVure  mar.«  ^ip'ic.  he  w.ic't^  a.'.waies  wrs.:*  b:s  ca&s:tcke  gvn  dswx«  lo« 

vjvvkTi  h»  bipiie<w  wi:h  a  grmi  >woErc  nan^n;;  bv  his  side,  and  rpon  that,  some  ill 

tan. ui red  ci.ikr..    FnnhrmnTit.  ihin^  rha:  secme  imoliexable  is  odxr 
men.  a^  \c-  S.«s:  c^immon^ .  u  ik:s  with  one  re  ocVier.  10  drinkelikF 
•  ^^^  ^  a  (••"vv":  f;'i)rw  wiih  curr«-  b.-*cii;,  \z>  si:  vith  the  s:*ujdjen  when  tier 

dine,  ann  w  eai*  antl  drmke  wi:b  iben.  soaudier:  i!ke :  h  is  i 
wh-^t  «*of>dertur.  )oiu  1:  wtmnc-  bin:  amiiTigs:  :t«m..  And  fxxnbcrmore,  b 
tr  \rMu  .  rha:  ma.ie  bm.  the  more  desired,  anc  :n  iha:  mesiiB  be  brongm  masvt* 
four  bim  For  hr  w.-ujU.  lurthe:  etier«  mans  inue,  an:i  al!«r  wonJd  nzn  be  angry  ^ 
nv^r.  >>honUi  mpriS  r«*r  hiir.  o''  tboM  he  trmrf..  }tu:  besids>  aH  ihix.  ikc  wiudiaoc 
fvoc^r^d  brs  n^inj:  am',  adiiancfnv-n;.  wa^  ht-  lihrraiittt.  wbr  gant  all  L.-^  tbe  todiiers. 
anr,  kcT»:  notbinf;  to  bim^rltr  .  ani".  vhrr.  hr  was  grnwet  tr-  grca:  crrdiit,  theaw 
br«.  nuThorihr  nm:  nowo:  a.'v  vo-^  grr-a^  tb:  whtcL  n.irwithsta&dmg  hnueib'e  ^ 
CMienb^om'e.  \^  ^  ihxi^Anr.  tMher  tBuIv>  he  hao 

TK*r.  wttv  ■infimni  «trajL;:h:  maTuehnix&!«  rammcncbc  mat  ba:«d 

o;    >hr  vtuUiicTN.  hecaDsr  hi  nnnmrai!^  exeauaed  >«im«^iK»  wa:^ 
\    hi    aa 

theni   unc  WtMHi.  ofrcmimr>  ratr  anci  dniMiie  witr.  ibem.  and  ai^  i* 

liYviul    mir.  tbeiTi.  xrrnrtiin;:  ir   hh-  aniiiltf 

*»  fterwrarfiiK  wTier  /'«^:«t— .    hnu«  wa*  nu:  if  onex:  scjc.4i 


SnQ(*h;  i       hn:  wher  tfien  a«ke£:   hin    mnn^  t.T   lu  be  made  c  «BV 
<fn»n£rr    «>,-  wt^  nftendei    witt.  Ih-ir.    . 


I.  ii.  ijl*  Ar»i    !h^»^T->Tr   he    tj»f    hr-  d^«solat!    maxm;r   ■»:'  lilt,  and 

II.  ii  "v^  .^-Nir*-   th«   wfi^  iVo.rMi   widd^«   s.  w-.mar.  nn:  an  tawciT  auadtf  t^ 

5r«^Tw:  he    tim.   tr.  xmnmnj:  ^^'    h'^so^i'iufra.  one  was  luc  iuiiiOBtfid 
Ir  ma.o^:  H^T  biT«h«ivi  a'  Kin\L    K«i:  w^rhui.    ah>r   ruit    hm:  ic  tis  a&at  ataraads.iid 


SOURCE   OF  THE  PLOT  387 

This  knot,  which  seems  almost  too  intrinse  to  miloose,  Mr  P.  A.  Daniel  has  untied 
in  a  quite  triumphant  manner,  as  follows  (His  scheme  had  better  be  accepted ;  it  is 
not  likely  that,  in  the  future,  anyone  with  adequate  skill  and  patience  will  be  found 
who  can  modify  it )  : 

'  Time  of  the  Play,  twelve  days  represented  on  the  stage  ;  with  intervals. 

Day  I. — Act  I,  sc.  i-iv. 

Interval — 40  days  ? 

"     2. — Act  I,  sc.  V  ;  Act  II,  sc.  i-iii. 

**     3. — Act  II,  sc.  iv. 
Interval. 

**    4. — Act  II,  sc.  v-vii.     [Act  III,  sc.  iii.] 
Interval? 

"    5. — Act  III,  sc.  i  and  ii. 

[Act  III,  sc.  iii.     See  Day  4.] 
Interval, 

**    6. — Act  III,  sc.  iv  and  v. 
Interval. 

"     7.— Act  III,  sc.  vi. 
Interval. 

«    8.— Act  III,  sc.  vii. 

"    9. — Act  III,  sc.  viii-x. 
Interval, 

"  10. — Act  III,  sc.  xi-xiit ;  Act  IV,  sc.  i-iii. 

**  II. — Act  IV,  sc.  iv-ix. 

"  12. — Act  IV,  sc.  x-xv ;  Act  V,  sc.  i  and  ii. 

Historic  time,  about  ten  years  :  B.c.  40  to  B.C.  30.' — New  Shakspere  Soc.  Trans, 
1877-9,  p.  239.  

SOURCE  OF  THE  PLOT 

After  the  painful  student  has  waded  through  the  preceding  pages  of  this  volume,  it 
seems  impertinently  superfluous  to  state  that  Shakespeare  drew  the  Source  of  his  Plot 
from  North's  Translation  of  Plutarch,  The  continual  references  in  the  Commentary 
to  this  portion  of  the  Appendix  are  wearisome  in  their  iteration.  Yet,  surely,  that 
mind  must  be  inert,  indeed,  that  finds  no  pleasure  in  observing  the  magic  whereby 
Shakespeare,  gilding  the  pale  stream  with  heavenly  alchemy,  transfigures  the  quiet 
prose,  at  times  almost  word  for  word,  into  exalted  poetry.  In  the  following  pages 
only  those  passages  are  reprinted  from  the  Life  of  Antonius  which,  in  the  Editor's 
judgement,  have  any  relation  to  the  present  play.  In  the  original  there  are  marginal 
notes,  in  Italics,  setting  forth  the  substance  of  the  adjoining  text ;  in  order  to  save 
space  these  have  been  omitted,  and  their  places  supplied  by  references,  in  broad- 
faced  t3rpe,  to  Acts,  Scenes,  and  Lines  in  the  play. 

The  following  Transcript  is  taken  from  the  Photolithograph  of  Four  Chapters  of 
North's  Plutarch^  of  the  edition  of  1595,  published  in  1878,  by  Dr  F.  A.  Leo,  of 
Berlin. 


3^  APPENDIX 

giuen,  because  of  m  dreame  one  of  his  frieods  bad.  AtUomtMS  oo  the  other  side  ooer- 
threw  i\jssim  in  baltelU  though  some  write  that  he  was  not  there  himselfe  at  the  btt- 
tel,  but  that  he  came  after  the  ouerthrow,  whitest  his  men  had  the  enemies  in  dose. 
So  OustMS  at  his  earnest  request  was  slair.e  br  a  faithful]  scroant  of  his  own  called 
PimJants,  whom  he  had  intranchised :  because  he  knew  not  in  time  that  Bmtm 

had  ouercome  Cwsjr.     Shortij  af:er  they  fooght  an  other  battdl 

a^ne,  in  the  which  Bruius  was  cceithrowen,  who  afterwaides  also 

III,  XI,  41.     ^^.^^  himself.     Thus  An:rmus  had  the  chiefest  glory  of  all  this  vie- 

toiy,  specially  because  C^sjr  was  sicke  at  that  tisne.  ... 
.Am-^-miMS  beirg  thus  inclined,  the  List  ani  extrrantest  mischiefe  of  all  other  (lo 
wit«  the  Kx2e  of  u>.r\;/^^>  lighted  on  h-.m,  «bo  did  wikea  and  sdrre  Tp  many  rices 
yet  hi^ivi^rn  ir.  him,  aad  were  cecer  seeae  to  ary  :  a=  i  if  any  sparke  of  goodnease  cr 
lK>pe  of  rising  wrre  ler'l  hini,  c7.'.'^r.— j  cuer.ched  i:  straight,  and  made  it  wvne  thei 
befvTT.     TSe  Cramer  bow  he  feU  in  kne  with  her  was  this.     Am^-nxMS  gotng  to  nuke 
warnf  w.;h  ibe  Pxktk'.axs;,  sect  to  o>£aaad  O.-f^sfr-s  to  arpeare  ixrsoBially  befere 
bim.  when  be  ca=«e  :zto  Cil^vi  c  io>  a=25W£Te  Trto  s^di  accnsataoos  as  wee  laide 
apii%4  be?,  be^r§  this :  ilia:  scie  bid  aiiec  ..'-rra.-  asd  B^^cms  in  tbeir  wmxre  agaxnft 
bim.     The  tD«s«r^?er  sseri  t=:.>  0.y*zr^£  ir  nake  Lis  fyr.TTK^ss  vato  her,  was  called 
/V'VjK.-  •  wb.^  wbea  be  bad  tiwrccg^y  cccsoertd  ber  besrtae,  tie  exce3eat  gnce 
a^ii  swr^rtstcsKS*  oe  b«  icc^rae,  be  sjcciis^  =iacrBiC£d  liii  Anr^^mtMr  wcujd  doe  aw 
b«K  ?*■*  so  Tv>V>  a  l.ad.-e.  be:  raier  assicrri  risai^Ji,  :ia!  ws±ia  few  oayes  she  dioald 
W  »  pr^Jit  i&acr  w<^:b  bhr..     Tijegy^yCC  b:  of  ber  ^rrai  boooer,  aad  perswaded 
be?^  V>  c-crif  hic^  OriJ.t  \.  as  knxictcrxSy  frr:is«*i  as  f^  cn=Iid  poss^b-ic,  aai  bad  ker 
tfcX  ?c»  be  a'^rrtof  a:  aZ  .-£  .< w7/»irjt-,  fjc  bf  wi*  a  inrcr  acinneoBS  Lord,  tbea  ary  tk< 
jdje  bai  c«^  «<T«e-     c'H'/vwir-x  cc  li*  ccber  S'ie  'rg-!rgyr"t>r  ^^fJrwr  wcrdsi*  &  sesBif 
N-  tSe  iVntwr  jtv^Hsae  rrȣ  crpr.^  sibe  bai  wni  .\ieJac-  t>ac.  xad  Ckfm;  /Vm?rr  lie 
^inTie  **v'  7^'/m:»ir:  tbf  frsa:    ci»7  f .-c  b-r  rieauDe :  sake  ^«p=  to  bane  grod  bjye  ifat 
5She  Vk^:^  m-tre  e^asT:*-  w.t  ,<  &';«=*£•.      F:c  ^^cxr-  anr  Pn^ey  kaew  ber  wbea  sie 

wx,5  boc  a  v-'vni^  '^^inir .  i:  ksrw  71X  ~b-r  wba:  tbe  w^cci  ie  racst :  lid 
it:w  «ibe  w*r7C  7:  .•*  R:;7ear  jc  the  aj^e  w^ies  a  wcibb=»  beucie  is  M 


1     T    JiSs 

•bf  rr-mi*..  i.n£  siSt  tl*r  re  lies:  jndjemeHL     ^c  si*  ^"n    ■'■A**'  hff- 


«»ltf  wilt  t  ^'ZTiz  rc  ^.fa».  «r;rs  of  j»ni£  aziZ  ssjacr,  aai  cc  xidiesaad 

Vupwv.  *t>£  T'.^TT  *.-  'm*ru^ztns  «i£  rci  s,  rssiimt  ts  .^^-i  J",  wni.  ii«c  ret  s^  aoei 
•w^hifif  wiiV  hir  wh:«n»ir  sbf  "r-uSM»r  mrr?  ibn  it  bsr  sr5i.  aai  it  ^tfiLiiimgd 
m^baonrrMnc  ^-  br-  nfef^sini^  rvsnitt  ap£  ^r»aL  Tbsrsi.-P*  wojcr  5±ie  was  setf  ndB 
V^  4iui7Ts  VltrTs.  S.-i:r  n-ror.  .^'ufmnt   timsxtii^  tint  xilat  I'>iu.  bs  i-i^^Am^  sbe 9tit 

XX,  iu  Vti$>       inrm^ri.  rcitr-^'s^t,  tm.  v  n^  btr  bn:^  jx.  ibe  ansr  af  CyaaBL^ 
•  *.  h.  M^       Tvvinr  wiv«r!v«    w»  n:  ^mu.  rttt  au*e>  nf  iwc^ue.  fin£  the  cwtff  ^ 

A-  Oi>»>k.  K-^'Sn*»v>v.  ^vrhtr-ii!.,.  r-n.-Jb^.  ant  sitri  n:iisr  mc>.umm&  as  ibey  pk^ed 

ir  i>v  Jmrc*"       ^»w  ^^^  **t  thr  TC'srw  n"  hr*  ^««ltr     sbs  wa*  luoe  Tnoer  a 

a:  >ImV  a  j»Aiar  A-  i>^iv..  iimam*1u*t.  am.  tsxinri.  iicr  ais  ^.-taoesEe  rin 

^i»r*"W  1»  nii»ni*r     Biu  Uu^i.  y«  h:n,  m  rtOtsr  tm.i%L  a."  bSL.  iueaig  bur  bc^>a  iff*" 

'wli><.  «s«^  4%iim;«tv  ^w  ;<«,'•:  iawii  |iAt:  ^''^t^ui..  wntt.  titit  bik  tx.  ^•"«    jnaids.wift^ 

a:  ilhi*n  ^^k  mmKA\^  iitt  thr  7?«mnte^  .V«^-nwf  wiii:±  «t  -ft*  m^'jiaudes  rf^ 
^vMiiffs   tihc  lilit  4Hr  4'>««Lr^».  «mM  jwium  Hit 


PLUTARCH 


391 


ropes  of  the  barge,  out  of  the  which  there  came  a  wonderful!  passing  sweete  sauor 
of  perfumes,  that  perfumed  the  wharfes  side,  pestered  with  innumerable  multitudes 
of  people.  Some  of  them  followed  the  barge  all  alongst  the  riuers  side  :  others  also 
ranne  out  of  the  citie  to  see  her  comming  in.  So  that  in  the  end,  there  ranne  such 
multitudes  of  people  one  after  an  other  to  see  her,  that  Antonitis  was  left  post  alone 
in  the  market  place,  in  his  Imperiall  seate  to  giue  audience:  and  there  went  a  rumor 
in  the  peoples  muuthes,  that  the  goddesse  Venus  was  come  to  play  with  the  god  Bac- 
chus^ for  the  generall  good  of  all  Asia.  "When  Cleopatra  landed,  Antonius  sent  to 
inuite  her  to  supper  to  him.  But  she  sent  him  worde  againe,  he  should  doe  better 
rather  to  come  and  suppe  with  her.  Antonius  therefore  to  shew  himselfe  curteous 
vnto  her  at  her  arriuall,  was  contented  to  obey  her,  and  went  to  supper  to  her  :  where 
he  found  such  passing  sumptuous  fare,  that  no  tongue  can  expresse  it.  But  amongst 
all  other  things,  he  most  wondered  at  the  infinite  number  of  lightes  and  torches 
hanged  on  the  toppe  of  the  bouse,  giuing  light  in  euery  place,  so  artificially  set  and 
ordered  by  deuises,  some  round,  some  square  :  that  it  was  the  rarest  thing  to  behold 
that  eye  could  discerne,  or  that  euer  bookes  could  mention.  The  next  night,  Antonius 
feasting  her,  contended  to  passe  her  in  magnificence  and  finenes :  but  she  ouercame 
him  in  both.  So  that  he  himselfe  began  to  scorne  the  grosse  seruice  of  his  house,  in 
respect  of  Cleopatraes  sumptuousnes  and  finenesse.  And  when  Cleopatra  found 
Antonius  ieasts  and  flents  to  be  but  grosse,  and  souldier  like,  in  plaine  manner :  she 
gaue  it  him  finely,  and  without  feare  taunted  him  throughly.  Now  her  beautie  (as 
it  is  reported)  was  not  so  passing,  as  vnmatchable  of  other  women,  nor  yet  such,  as 
vpon  present  viewe  did  enamor  men  with  her :  but  so  sweete  was  her  companie  and 
conuersation,  that  a  man  could  not  possiblie  but  be  taken.  And  besides  her  beautie, 
the  good  grace  she  had  to  talke  and  discourse,  her  curteous  nature  that  tempered  her 
words  &  deedes,  was  a  spurre  that  pricked  to  the  quick.  Furthermore,  besides  all 
these,  her  voice  and  words  were  maruellous  pleasant :  for  her  tongue  was  an  instru- 
ment of  musicke  to  diuers  sportes  and  pastimes,  the  which  she  easily  turned  to  any 
language  that  pleased  her.  She  spake  vnto  few  barbarous  people  by  interpreter,  but 
made  them  answere  her  selfe,  or  at  the  least  the  most  part  of  them  :  as  the  ^Ethiop- 
lANS,  the  Arabians,  the  Troglodytes,  the  Hebrves,  the  Syrians,  the  Medes, 
and  the  Parthians,  and  to  many  others  also,  whose  languages  she  had  learned. 
Whereas  diuers  of  her  progenitors,  the  kings  of  Mgyvt,  could  scarce  leame  the 
-/Egyptian  tongue  only  &  many  of  them  forgot  to  speake  the  Macedonian.  Now, 
Antonius  was  so  rauished  with  the  loue  of  Cleopatra,  that  though  his  wife  Fuluia 
had  great  warres,  and  much  a  doe  with  Casar  for  his  affaires,  and  that  the  armie  of 
the  Parthians  (the  which  the  kings  Lieutenantes  had  giuen  to  the  only  leading  of 
Lahienus)  was  now  assembled  in  Mesopotamia  readie  to  inuade  Syria  :  yet,  as 
though  all  this  had  nothing  touched  him,  he  yeelded  himselfe  to  goe  with  Cleopatra 
into  Alexandria,  where  he  spent  and  lost  in  childish  sports  (as  a  man  might  say) 
and  idle  pastimes,  the  most  pretious  thing  a  man  can  spend,  as  Antiphon  saith  :  and 
that  is,  time.  For  they  made  an  order  betwene  them,  which  they  called  Amimetobion 
(as  much  to  say,  no  life  comparable  and  matchable  with  it)  one  feasting  each  other 
by  tumes,  and  in  cost,  exceeding  all  measure  and  reason.  And  for  proofe  hereof,  I 
haue  heard  my  grandfather  Lampryas  report,  that  one  Philotas  a  Phisitian,  borne  in 
the  city  of  Amphissa,  told  him  that  he  was  at  that  present  time  in  Alexandria, 
and  studied  Phisicke :  and  that  hauing  acquaintance  with  one  of  Antonius  cookes, 
he  tooke  him  with  him  to  Antonius  house,  (being  a  young  man  desirous  to  see 
things)  to  shew  him  the  wonderfull  sumptuous  charge  and  preparation  of  one  only 


392 


APPENDIX 


supper.    When  he  was  in  the  kitchin,  and  saw  a  world  of  diuersities  of  meates,  and 

amongst  others,  eight  wild  boares  rosted  whole  :  he  began  to  wonder 

at  it,  and  saide,  sure  you  haue  a  great  number  of  guestes  to  sapper. 

,  u,  2x3.      rj.j^g  cooke  fell  a  laughing,  and  answered  him,  no  (quoth  he)  not  many 

guestes,  nor  aboue  twelue  in  all :  but  yet  all  that  is  boyled  or  roasted 

must  be  serued  in  whole,  or  else  it  would  be  marred  straight.     For  Antonius  per- 

aduenture  will  suppe  presently,  or  it  may  be  a  pretie  while  hence,  or  likely  enough  he 

will  deferre  it  longer,  for  that  he  hath  drunke  well  to  day,  or  else  hath  had  some 

other  great  matters  in  hand  :  and  therefore  we  doe  not  dresse  one  supper  onely,  but 

many  suppers,  because  we  are  uncertaine  of  the  houre  he  will  suppe  in.    Philotas  the 

Phisitian  tolde  my  grandfather  this  tale.  .  .  . 

But  now  againe  to  Cleopatra,  Plato  writeth  that  there  are  foure  kinds  of  flatterie : 
but  Cleopatra  deuided  it  into  many  kinds.  For  she,  were  it  in  sport,  or  in  matters  of 
earnest,  still  deuised  sundrie  newe  delights  to  haue  Antonius  at  conomaundement, 
neuer  leaning  him  night  nor  day,  nor  once  letting  him  go  out  of  her  sight  For 
she  would  play  at  dice  with  him,  drinke  with  him,  &  hunt  commonly  with  him, 

and  also  be  with  him  when  he  went  to  any  exercise  or  actiuitie  of 
body.     And  sometime  also,  when  he  would  go  vp  and  downe  the 
'   '      *  citie  disguised  as  a  slaue  in  the  night,  &  would  peere  into  poore 

mens  windowes  &  their  shop>s,  and  scold  and  braule  with  them 
within  the  house :  Cleopatra  would  be  also  in  a  chamber  maides  array,  and  amble 
vp  and  downe  the  streetes  with  him,  so  that  oftentimes  Antonius  bare  away  both 
mockes  and  blowes.  Now,  though  most  men  misliked  this  manner,  yet  the  Alex- 
andrians were  commonly  glad  of  this  iolity,  and  liked  it  well,  saying  very  gallantly, 
and  wisely :  that  Antonius  shewed  them  a  comicall  face,  to  wit,  a  merie  countenance: 
and  the  Romaines  a  tragicall  face,  to  say,  a  grimme  looke.  But  to  reckon  vp  all 
the  foolish  sportes  they  made,  reuelling  in  this  sort :  it  were  too  fonde  a  part  of  me, 
and  therefore  I  will  only  tell  you  one  among  the  rest.  On  a  time  he  went  to  angle 
for  fish,  and  when  he  could  take  none,  he  was  as  angrie  as  could  be,  because 
Cleopatra  stood  by.  Wlierefore  he  secretly  commaunded  the  fisher  men,  that  when 
he  cast  in  his  line,  they  should  straight  diue  vnder  the  water,  and  put  a  fish  on  his 
hooke  which  they  had  taken  before :  and  so  snatched  vp  his  angling  rodde,  and 
brought  vp  fish  twise  or  thrise.  Cleopatra  found  it  straight,  yet  she  seemed  not  to 
see  it,  but  wondred  at  his  excellent  fishing :  but  when  she  was  alone  by  her  selfe 
among  her  owne  people,  she  tolde  them  how  it  was,  and  bad  them  the  next  morning 
to  be  on  the  water  to  see  the  fishing.  A  number  of  people  came  to  the  hauen,  and 
got  into  the  fisher  boates  to  see  this  fishing.     Antonius  then  threw  in  his  line  and 

Cleopatra  straight  commanded  one  of  her  men  to  diue  vnder  water 
before  Antonius  men,  and  to  put  some  old  salt  fish  vpon  his  baite, 
1»  V,  21.        jjj^^  ^^^^  \host  that  are  brought  out  of  the  country  of  PoNT.     When 
he  had  hong  the  fish  on  his  hook,  Antonius  thinking  he  had  taken 
a  fish  in  deede,  snatched  vp  his  line  presently.      Then  they  all  fell  a  laughing. 
Cleopatra  laughing  also,  said  vnto  him:  leaue  vs  (my  Lord)  ^EGYPTIANS  (which 
dwell  in  the  country  of  Pharvs  &  Canobus)  your  angling  rod :  this  is  not  thy  pro- 
fession :  thou  must  hunt  after  conquering  of  realmes  and  countries. 
Now  Antonius  delighting  in  these  fond  and  childish  pastimes,  very 
^    '        'ill  newes  were  brought  him  from  two  places.     The  first  from  RoifB, 
that  his  brother  Lucius  and  Fuluia  his  wife,  fell  out  first  betwene 
themselues,  and  afterwards  fell  to  open  warre  with  Casar^  &  had  brought  all  to 


PLUTARCH 


393 


nought,  that  they  were  both  driuen  to  fiie  out  of  Italy.     The  second  newes,  as 
bad  as  the  first :  that  Labienus  conquered  all  Asia  with  the  armie  of  the  Par- 
THIANS,  from  the  riuer  of  Euphrates,  and  from  Syria,  ynto  the 
countries  of  Lydia   and   Ionia.      Then  beganne   ArUonius  with 
much  a  do,  a  litle  to  rouse  him  selfe  as  if  he  had  bene  wakened       '    '      ^* 
out  of  a  deepe  sleepe,  and  as  a  man  may  say,  comming  out  of  a 
great  dnmkennesse.     So,  first  of  all  he  bent  himselfe  against  the  Parthians,  and 
went  as  farre  as  the  country  of  Phcenicia  :  but  there  he  receiued  lamentable  letters 
from  his  wife  Ftduia,     Whereupon  he  straight  returned  towardes  Italy,  with  two 
hundred  saile:  and  as  he  went,  took  vp  his  friends  by  the  way  that  fled  out  of 
Italie,  to  come  to  him.     By  them  he  was  informed,  that  his  wife  Fuluia  was  the 
only  cause  of  this  warre  :  who  being  of  a  peeuish,  crooked,  and  troublesome  nature, 
had  purposely  raised  this  vprore  in  Italy,  in  hope  thereby  to  with- 
draw him  from  Cleopatra,     But  by  good  fortune,  his  wife  Fuluia 
going  to  meete  with  Antonius  sickned  by  the  way,  and  died  in  the       '    *    ^^* 
dtie  of  SiCYONE :  and  therefore  Oclavius  Casar^  and  he  were  the 
easilier  made  friends  together.     For  when  Antonius  landed  in  Italie,  and  that  men 
saw  Casar  asked  nothing  of  him,  and  that  Antonius  on  the  other  side  laide  all  the 
fault  &  burden  on  his  wife  Fuluia  :  the  friendes  of  both  parties  would  not  suffer  them 
to  vnrippe  any  old  matters,  and  to  proue  or  defend  who  had  the  wrong  or  right,  and 
who  was  the  first  procurer  of  this  warre,  fearing  to  make  matters  worse  betwene  them : 
but  they  made  them  friendes  together,  and  deuided  the  Empire  of  Rome  betwene 
them,  making  the  sea  Ionium  the  bounds  of  their  dluiston.     For  they  gaue  all  the 
prouinces  Eastward  vnto  Antonius  :  and  the  countries  Westward,  vnto  Casar:  and 
left  Africke  vnto  Lepidus :  and  made  a  law,  that  they  three  one  after  an  other 
should  make  their  friends  Consuls,  when  they  would  not  be  themselues.      This 
seemed  to  be  a  good  councell,  but  yet  it  was  to  be  confirmed  with  a  straighter  bond, 
which  fortune  offered  thus.     There  was  Octauia  the  eldest  sister  of 
Oesar,  not  by  one  mother,  for  she  came  of  Ancharia^  &  Casar  him- 
selfe afterwards  of  Accia,     It  is  reported,  that  he  dearly  loued  his        '    '    ^^* 
sister  Octauia^  for  in  deede  she  was  a  noble  Ladie,  and  left  the 
widow  of  her  first  husband  Caius  MarcelluSy  who  died  not  long  before :    and  it 
seemed  also  that  Antonius  had  bene  widower  euer  since  the  death  of  his  wife  Fuluia^ 
For  he  denied  not  that  he  kept  Cleopatra^  but  so  did  he  not  confesse  that  he  had  her 
as  his  wife :  &  so  with  reason  he  did  defend  the  loue  he  bare  vnto  this  iEcPYTiAN 
Cleopatra.     Thereupon  euery  man  did  set  forward  this  mariage,  hoping  thereby  that 
this  Ladie  Octauia^  hauing  an  excellent  grace,  wisedom,  &  honestie,  ioyned  vnto  so 
rare  a  beautie,  that  when  she  were  with  Antonius  (he  louing  her  as  so  worthy  a  Ladie 
desenieth)  she  should  be  a  good  meane  to  keepe  good  loue  &  amitie  betwixt  her 
brother  and  him.     So  when  Casar  &  he  had  made  the  match  betwene  them,  they 
both  went  to  Rome  about  this  mariage,  although  it  was  against  the  law,  that  a  widow 
should  be  maried  within  tenne  monthes  after  her  husbandes  death.     Howbeit  the 
Senate  dispensed  with  the  law,  and  so  the  mariage  proceeded  accordingly.     Sextus 
Pompeius  at  that  time  kept  in  SiciLiA,  and  so  made  many  an  inrode 
into  Italie  with  a  great  number  of  pynnasies  and  other  pirates         . 
shippes,  of  the  which  were  Captaines  two  notable  pirats,  Menas  and      '      '  ^  ' 
AfentcrateSf  who  so  scoured  all  the  sea  thereabouts,  that  none  durst 
peepe  out  with  a  saile.     Furthermore,  Sextus  Pompeius  had  dealt  very  friendly  with 
Antonius,  for  he  had  courteously  receiued  his  mother,  when  she  fled  out  of  Itaue 


394 


APPENDIX 


with  Fuluia  :  and  therefore  they  thought  good  to  make  peace  with  him.  So  they 
met  all  three  together  by  the  mount  of  Misena,  vpon  a  hill  that  runneth  farre  into  the 
sea :  Ponipey  hauing  his  shyppes  ryding  hard  by  at  anker,  and  Antonius  and  Qtsar  their 
armies  vpon  the  shore  side,  directly  ouer  against  him.  Now,  after  they  had  agreed 
that  Sextus  Potnpeius  should  haue  SiciLE  and  Sardinia,  with  this  condition,  that  he 
should  ridde  the  sea  of  all  theeues  and  pirats,  and  make  it  safe  for  passengers,  and 

withall  that  he  should  send  a  certaine  of  wheate  to  Rome  :  one  of 

them  did  feast  an  other,  and  drew  cuts  who  should  beginne.     It  was 

,  VI,  lo  .     poffipeius  chaunce  to  inuite  them  first.     Whereupon  Antonius  asked 

him :  and  where  shall  we  sup  ?     There,  said  Pompey^  and  shewed 

him  his  admirall  galley  which  had  sixe  banks  of  owers :  that  (said  he)  is  my  fathers 

house  they  haue  left  me.     He  spake  it  to  taunt  Antonius^  because 

*If  VI,  34.       he  had  his  fathers  house,  that  was  Potnpey  the  great.     So  he  cast 

II,  vii,  151.    anckers  enow  into  the  sea,  to  make  his  galley  fast,  and  then  built  a 

bridge  of  wood  to  conuey  them  to  his  galley,  from  the  head  of  mount 

Misena  :  and  there  he  welcomed  them,  and  made  them  great  cheere.     Now  in  the 

middest  of  the  feast,  when  they  fell  to  be  merie  with  Antonius  loue  vnto  CieoptUra  : 

Almas  the  pirate  came  to  Pompey^  &  whispering  in  his  eare,  said 

vnto  him :  shall  I  cut  the  gables  of  the  ankers,  and  make  thee  Lord 

»  vu,    4.      ^^^  ^^j^  ^^  SiciLE  and  Sardinia,  but  of  the  whole  Empire  of 

Rome  besides  ?     Pompey  hauing  paused  a  while  vpon  it,  at  length 

answered  him  :  thou  shouldest  haue  done  it,  and  neuer  haue  told  it  me,  but  now  we 

must  content  vs  with  that  we  haue.     As  for  my  selfe,  I  was  neuer  taught  to  breake 

my  faith,  nor  to  be  counted  a  traitor.     The  other  two  also  did  like- 
wise feast  him  in  their  campe,  and  then  he  returned  into  SiciLE. 
»       »    49'    Antonius  after  this  agreement  made,  sent  Ventidius  before  into  AsiA 
to  stay  the  Parthians,  and  to  keepe  them  they  should  come  no 
further :  and  he  himselfe  in  the  meane  time,  to  gratilie  Casar^  was  contented  to  be 
chosen  Julius  Casars  priest  and  sacrificer,  &  so  they  ioyntly  together  dispatched  all 
great  matters,  concerning  the  state  of  the  Empire.     But  in  all  other  maner  of  sports 
and   exercises,    wherein   they    passed    the  time  away  the  one   with  the  other: 
Antonius  was  euer  inferior  vnto  Casar,  &  alway  lost,  which  grieued  him  much. 
With  Antonius  there  was  a  soothsayer  or  astronomer  of  JEjgyvTj  that  could  cast  a 
figure,  and  iudge  of  mens  natiuities,  to  tell  them  what  should  happen  to  them.     He, 
either  to  please  Cleopatra,  or  else  for  that  he  found  it  so  by  his  art,  tolde  Antonius 
plainely,  that  his  fortune  (which  of  it  selfe  was  excellent  good,  and  very  great)  was 

altogether  bleamished  and  obscured  by  Casars  fortune :  and  there- 
fore he  counselled  him  vtterly  to  leaue  his  company,  and  to  get  him 
II   111   22  *      *  ^ 

'      '      *      as  farre  from  him  as  he  could.     For  thy  Demon,  said  he,  (that  is  to 

say,  the  good  angell  and  spirit  that  keepeth  thee)  is  alfraide  of  his: 
and  being  coragious  &  high  when  he  is  alone,  becometh  fearfuU  and  timerous  when 
he  commeth  neere  vnto  the  other.  Howsoeuer  it  was,  the  euents  ensuing  proued  the 
./^Igyftians  words  true.  For,  it  is  said,  that  as  often  as  they  two  drew  cuts  for  pas- 
time, who  should  haue  anything,  or  whether  they  plaied  at  dice,  Antonius  alway  lost 

Oftentimes  when  they  were  disposed  to  see  cockfight,  or  qoailes  that 

were  taught  to  fight  one  with  an  other :  Casars  cockes  or  qoailes  did 
'      *  ^^'       euer  ouercome.    The  which  spighted  Antonius  in  his  mind,  although 

he  made  no  outward  shew  of  it :  and  therefore  he  beleeued  the  iGcYT- 
tian  the  better.     In  fine,  he  recommended  the  affaires  of  his  house  vnto  Qtsar,  &  went 


PLUTARCH  395 

out  of  Italy  with  Octauia  his  wife,  whom  he  caried  into  Grece,  after  he  had  had  a 
daughter  by  her.  So  Anionius  lying  al  the  winter  at  Athens,  news  came  vnto  him 
of  the  victories  of  VeniidiuSy  who  had  ouercome  the  Parthians  in  battell,  in  the 
which  also  were  slaine,  Labienus  and  Phamabates^  the  chiefest  Captaine  king  Orodes 
had.  For  these  good  newes  he  feasted  all  Athens,  and  kept  open  house  for  all  the 
Grecians,  and  many  games  of  price  were  plaid  at  Athens,  of  the  which  he  himselfe 
would  be  iudge.  Wherefore  leauing  his  gard,  his  axes,  and  tokens  of  his  Empire  at 
his  house,  he  came  into  the  shew  place  (or  listes)  where  these  games  were  plaide  in 
a  long  gowne  and  slippers  after  the  Grecian  fashion,  and  they  caried  tippestaues 
before  him,  as  martial s  men  do  carie  before  the  ludges  to  make  place  :  and  he  him- 
selfe in  person  was  a  stickler  to  part  the  young  men,  when  they  had  fought  enough. 
After  that,  preparing  to  go  to  the  warres,  he  made  him  a  garland  of  the  holy  Oliue, 
and  caried  a  vessell  with  him  of  the  water  of  the  fountaine  Clepsydra,  because  of  an 
Oracle  he  had  receiued  that  so  commaunded  him.  In  the  meane 
time,  Ventidius  once  againe  ouercame  Pacorus,  (  Orodes  sonne  king 
of  Parthia)  in  a  battel  fought  in  the  country  of  Cyrrestica,  he  » *♦  '• 

being  come  againe  with  a  great  armie  to  inuade  Syria  :  at  which 
battell  was  slaine  a  great  number  of  the  Parthians,  &  among  them  Pacorus,  the 
kings  owne  sonne  slaine.     This  noble  exploit  as  famous  as  euer  any  was,  was  a  full 
reuenge  to  the  Romaines,  of  the  shame  and  losse  they  had  receiued  before  by  the 
death  of  Marcus  Crassus  :  and  he  made  the  Parthians  flie,  and  glad  to  keepe  them- 
selues  within  the  confines  and  territories  of  Mesopotamia,  &  Media, 
after  they  had  thrise  together  bene  ouercome  in  seueral  battels.    How-     III,  i,  x6. 
bcit  Ventidius  durst  not  vndertake  to  follow  them  any  farther,  fearing     m   i  22. 
least  he  should  haue  gotten  Anionius  displeasure  by  it.     Notwith- 
standing, he  led  his  armie  against  them  that  had  rebelled,  and  conquered  them 
againe :  amongst  whom  he  besieged  Antiochus,  king  of  Commagena,  who  offered 
to  giue  him  a  thousand  talents  to  be  pardoned  his  rebellion,  and  promised  euer  after 
to  be  at  Antonius  commaundement.    But  Ventidius  made  him  answere,  that  he  should 
send  vnto  Antonius^  who  was  not  farre  off,  &  would  not  suffer  Ventidius  to  make  any 
peace  with  Antiochus^  to  the  end  that  yet  this  litle  exploit  should  passe  in  his  name, 
and  that  they  should  not  thinke  he  did  anything  but  by  his  Lieutenant  Ventidius,    The 
siege  grew  very  long,  because  they  that  were  in  the  towne,  seeing  they  could  not  be 
receiued  vppon  no  reasonable  composition :  determined  valiantly  to  defend  themselues 
to  the  last  man.     Thus  Antonius  did  nothing,  and  yet  receiued  great  shame,  repent- 
ing him  much  that  he  tooke  not  their  first  offer.     And  yet  at  last  he  was  glad  to 
make  truce  with  Antiochus,  and  to  take  three  hundred  talents  for  composition.    Thus 
after  he  had  set  order  for  the  state  &  affaires  of  Syria,  he  returned  againe  to  Athens  : 
and  hauing  giuen  Ventidius  such  honours  as  he  deserued,  he  sent  him  to  Rome,  to 
triumph  for  the  Parthians.      Ventidius  was  the  onely  man  that  euer  triumphed  of 
the  Parthians  vntill  this  present  day,  a  meane  man  borne,  and  of  no  noble  house 
nor  family  :  who  only  came  to  that  he  attained  vnto,  through  Antonius  friendshippe, 
the  which  deliuered  him  happie  occasion  to  atchieue  to  great  matters.     And  yet  to 
say  truely,  -he  did  so  well  quit  himselfe  in  all  his  enterprises,  that  he 
confirmed  that  which  was  spoken  of  Antonius  and  Casar :  to  wit,     III,  i,  20. 
that  they  were  alway  more  fortunate  when  they  made  warre  by  their     \\\  j^  ^2. 
Lieutenants,  then  by  themselues.   For  Sossius,  one  of  Antonius  Lieu- 
tenants in  Syria,  did  notable  good  seruice :  and  Canidius  whom  he  had  also  left  his 
Lieutenant  in  the  borders  of  Armenia,  did  conquer  it  all.    So  did  he  also  ouercome 


396  APPENDIX 

the  kings  of  the  Iberians  and  Albanians,  and  went  on  with  his  conquests  vnto 
mount  Caucasus.  By  these  conquests,  the  fame  of  Antonius  power  increased  more 
and  more,  and  grew  dreadful!  vnto  all  the  barbarous  nations.  But  Antoniui  notwith- 
standing, grew  to  be  maruellously  offended  with  Casar,  vpon  certaine  reportes  that 
had  beene  brought  vnto  him :  and  so  tooke  sea  to  go  towards  Italy  with  three  hun- 
dred saile.  And  because  those  of  Brvndvsivm  would  not  recdue  his  armie  into 
their  hauen,  he  went  farther  vnto  Tarbntvm.     There  his  wife  Octauia  that  came 

out  of  Grecb  with  him,  besought  him  to  send  her  vnto  her  brother : 

III,  iv,  27.  the  which  he  did.  Octauia  at  that  time  was  great  with  child,  and 
moreouer  had  a  second  daughter  by  him,  and  yet  she  put  her  selfe 

III,  vi,  43.  in  iomey,  and  met  with  her  brother  Octauius  Qesar  by  the  way,  who 
brought  his  two  chiefe  friends,  Macenas  and  Agrippa  with  him.  She 
tooke  them  aside,  and  with  all  the  instance  she  could  possible,  intreated  them  they 
would  not  suffer  her  that  was  the  happiest  woman  of  the  worlde,  to  become  now  the 
most  wretched  and  vnfortunatest  creature  of  all  other.  For  now,  said  she,  euery 
mans  eyes  doe  gaze  on  me,  that  am  the  sister  of  one  of  the  Emperors  and  wife  of  the 
other.  And  if  the  worst  counsell  take  place,  (which  the  goddes  forbid)  and  that 
they  growe  to  warres :  for  your  selues,  it  is  vncertaine  to  which  of  them  two  the 
goddes  haue  assigned  the  victorie,  or  ouerthrowe.  But  for  me,  on  which  side  soeaer 
victorie  fall,  my  state  can  be  but  most  miserable  still.  These  wordes  of  Ociama  so 
softned  Casars  heart,  that  he  went  quickly  vnto  Tarentvm.  .  .  . 

Antonius  also  leauing  his  wife  Octauia  and  litle  children  begotten  of  her  with 
Casar,  and  his  other  children  which  he  had  by  Fuluia  :  he  went  directly  into  Asia. 
Then  beganne  this  pestilent  plague  and  mischiefe  of  CUopatraes  loue  (which  had 
slept  a  long  time,  and  seemed  to  haue  beene  vtterly  forgotten,  and  that  Antonim 
had  giuen  place  to  better  counsell)  againe  to  kindle,  and  to  be  in  force,  so  soone  as 
Antonius  came  neare  vnto  Syria.  And  in  the  end,  the  horse  of  the  minde  as  Plat9 
termeth  it,  that  is  so  hard  of  raine  ( I  meane  the  vnreyned  lust  of  concupiscence)  did 
put  out  of  AnUmius  head,  all  honest  and  commendable  thoughtes  :  for  he  sent  Fom- 
teius  Capita  to  bring  Cleopatra  into  Syria.  Vnto  whom,  to  welcome  her,  he  gaoe 
no  trifling  things :  but  vnto  that  she  had  already,  he  added  the  prouinces  of  Phgb- 
nicia,  those  of  the  nethermost  Syria,  the  He  of  Cypr vs,  and  a  great  part  of  Cilioa, 
and  that  countrey  of  Ivry,  where  the  true  balme  is,  and  that  part  of  Arabia  where 
the  Nabatheians  doe  dwell,  which  stretcheth  out  towardes  the  Ocean.  These  great 
giftes  much  misliked  the  Romaines.  But  now,  though  Antonius  did  easily  giue 
away  great  seigniories,  realmes,  and  mighty  nations  vnto  some  priuate  men,  and  that 
also  he  tooke  from  other  kings  their  lawfull  realms  (as  from  Antigonus  king  of  the 
Ievves,  whom  he  openly  beheaded,  where  neuer  king  before  had  suffered  like 
death)  yet  all  this  did  not  so  much  offend  the  Romaines,  as  the  vnmeasorable 
honors  which  he  did  vnto  Cleopatra,  But  yet  he  did  much  more  aggimuat  their 
malice  and  ill  will  towards  him,  because  that  Cleopatra  hauing  brought  htm  two 
twins,  a  sonne  and  a  daughter,  he  named  his  son  Alexander^  and  his  daughter 
Cleopatra^  and  gaue  them  to  their  surnames,  the  Sun  to  the  one,  and  the  moone  to 
the  other.  .  .  . 

This  so  great  and  puisant  army  which  made  the  Indians  quake  for  fear,  dwelling 
about  the  country  of  the  Bactrians,  &  all  Asia  also  to  tremble :  seined  him  to  no 
purpose,  &  all  for  the  loue  he  bare  to  Cleopatra,  For  the  earnest  great  desire  he  had 
to  lie  all  winter  with  her,  made  him  begin  his  warre  out  of  due  time,  and  for  hast, 
to  put  all  in  hazard,  being  so  rauished  and  enchaunted  with  the  sweete  poison  of  her 


PLUTARCH 


397 


lone,  that  he  had  no  other  thought  but  of  her,  and  how  he  might  quickly  returne 
againe  :  more  then  how  he  might  ouercome  his  enemies.  .  .  . 

Then  seeing  him  selfe  enuironned  of  all  sides,  he  sent  vnto  the  army,  that  they 
should  come  and  aide  him :  but  there  the  Captaines  that  led  the  legions  (among  the 
which  Canidius,  a  man  of  great  estimation  about  Antanius  made  one)  committed 
many  faults. 

Now  whilest  Antonius  was  busie  in  this  preparation,  Octauia  his  wife,  whom  he 
had  left  at  Rome,  would  needes  take  sea  to  come  vnto  him.  Her  brother  Octauius 
Casar  was  willing  vnto  it,  not  for  his  respect  at  all  (as  most  authors  doe  report)  as 
for  that  he  might  haue  an  honest  colour  to  make  warre  with  Antonius  if  he  did  mis- 
use her,  and  not  esteeme  of  her  as  she  ought  to  be.  But  when  she  was  come  to 
Athens,  she  receiued  letters  from  Antonius,  willing  her  to  stay  there  vntill  his  com- 
ming,  &  did  aduertise  her  of  his  iomey  and  determination.  The  which  though  it 
grieued  her  much,  and  that  she  knew  it  was  but  an  excuse :  yet  by  her  letters  to  him 
of  aunswere,  she  asked  him  whether  he  would  haue  those  things  sent  vnto  him  which 
she  had  brought  him,  being  great  store  of  apparell  for  souldiers,  a  great  number  of 
horse,  summe  of  money  and  gifts,  to  bestow  on  his  friends  and  Captaines  he  had 
about  him  :  and  besides  all  those,  she  had  two  thousande  souldiers  chosen  men,  all 
well  armed  like  vnto  the  Praetors  bands.  When  Niger,  one  of  Antonius  friendes 
whom  he  had  sent  vnto  Athens,  had  brought  these  newes  from  his  wife  Octauia ^ 
and  withall  did  greatly  praise  her,  as  she  was  worthy,  and  well  deserued :  Cleopatra 
knowing  that  Octauia  would  haue  Antonius  from  her,  and  fearing  also  that  if  with 
her  vertue  and  honest  behauior,  (besides  the  great  power  of  her  brother  Otsar")  she 
did  adde  thereunto  her  modest  kind  loue  to  please  her  husband  that  she  would  then 
be  too  strong  for  her,  and  in  the  end  winne  him  away  :  she  subtilly  seemed  to  lan- 
guish for  the  loue  of  Antonius,  pining  her  body  for  lacke  of  meate.  Furthermore, 
she  euery  way  so  framed  her  countenance,  that  when  Antonius  came  to  see  her,  she 
cast  her  eyes  vpon  him,  like  a  woman  rauished  for  ioy.  Straight  againe  when  he 
went  from  her,  she  fell  a  weeping  and  blubbering,  looked  ruefully  of  the  matter,  and 
still  found  she  meanes  that  Antonius  should  oftentimes  iinde  her  weeping :  and  then 
when  he  came  sodainely  vpp>on  her,  she  made  as  though  she  dried  her  eyes,  and 
tamed  her  face  away,  as  if  she  were  vn willing  that  he  should  see  her  weepe.  .  .  . 

When  Octauia  was  returned  to  Rome  from  Athens,  Casar  commanded  her  to 
goe  out  of  Antonius  house,  and  to  dwell  by  herselfe,  because  he  had  abused  her. 
Octauia  answered  him  againe,  that  she  would  not  forsake  her  husbands  house,  and 
that  if  he  had  no  other  occasion  to  make  warre  with  him,  she  prayed  him  then  to 
take  no  thought  for  her :  for  sayed  she,  it  were  too  shamefull  a  thing,  that  two 
famous  Captaines  should  bring  in  ciuill  warres  among  the  Romains,  the  one  for  the 
loue  of  a  woman,  and  the  other  for  the  iealousie  betwixt  one  another.  Now  as  she 
spake  the  word,  so  did  she  also  performe  the  deede.  For  she  kept  still  in  Antonius 
house,  as  if  he  had  bene  there,  and  very  honestly,  and  honorably  kept  his  children, 
not  those  onely  she  had  by  him,  but  the  other  which  her  husband  had  by  Fuluia. 
Furthermore,  when  Antonius  sent  any  of  his  men  to  Rome,  to  sue  for  any  office  in 
the  common  wealth  :  she  receiued  him  very  curteously,  and  so  vsed  her  selfe  vnto 
her  brother,  that  she  obtained  the  thing  she  requested.  Howbeit  thereby,  thinking 
no  hurt,  she  did  Antonius  great  hurt.  For  her  honest  loue  and  regard  to  her  hus- 
band, made  euery  man  hate  him,  when  they  sawe  he  did  so  vnkindly  vse  so  noble 
a  Ladle :  but  yet  the  greatest  cause  of  their  malice  vnto  him,  was  for  the  diuision  of 
lands  he  made  amongst  his  children  in  the  citie  of  Alexandria.     And  to  confesse 


398 


APPENDIX 


a  troth,  it  was  too  arrogant  and  insolent  a  part,  and  done  (as  a  man  would  say)  in 
derision  and  contempt  of  the  Romains.  For  he  assembled  all  the  people  in  the 
shew  place,  where  young  men  doe  exercise  themselues,  and  there  vppon  a  high 

tribunall  siluered,  he  set  two  chaires  of  gold,  the  one  for  himsdfe, 

III  vi  3.       ^^^  ^^  other  for  Cleopatra ^ViViA  lower  chaires  for  his  children  :  then 

he  openly  published  before  the  assembly,  that  first  of  all  he  did 

III,  VI,  II.     establish  Cleopatra  Queene  of  ^gypt,  of  Cyprys,  of  Lydia,  and 

III,  vi,  7.       of  the  lower  Syria,  and  at  that  time  also,  Gesarion  king  of  the  same 

realmes.     This  Gesarion  was  supposed  to  be  the  sonne  of  luiius 

Casar^  who  had  left  Cleopatra  great  with  child.     Secondly  he  called  the  sonnes  he 

had  by  her,  the  kings  of  kings,  &  gaue  Alexander  for  his  portion,  Armenia,  Media, 

and  Parthia,  when  he  had  conquered  thecountrie:  and  vnto  Ptolomy 
III,  vi,  16.  for  his  portion,  Phenicia,  Syria,  and  Cilicia.  And  therwithall 
he  brought  out  Alexander  in  a  long  gowne  after  the  fashion  of  the 
Medes  with  a  high  copped  tanke  hat  on  his  head,  narrow  in  the  toppe,  as  the  kings 
of  the  Medes  and  Armenians  doe  vse  to  weare  them  :  and  Ptolomy  apparelled  in  a 
cloke  after  the  Macedonian  maner,  with  slippers  on  his  feete,  and  a  broad  hat,  with 
a  royal  band  or  diademe.  Such  was  the  apparell  and  old  attire  of  the  auncient 
kings  and  successours  of  Alexander  the  great.  So  after  his  sonnes  had  done  their 
humble  duties,  and  kissed  their  father  and  mother :  presently  a  company  of  Arme- 
nian souldiers  set  there  of  purpose,  compassed  the  one  about,  and  a  like  company 
of  the  Macedonians  the  other.  Now  for  Cleopatra^  she  did  not  only  weare  at  that 
time,  (but  at  all  other  times  els  when  she  came  abroad)  the  apparell  of  the  goddesse 
IsUy  and  so  gaue  audience  vnto  all  her  subiects,  as  a  new  Isis.  Octauius  Casar 
reporting  all  these  things  vnto  the  Senate,  and  oftentimes  accusing  him  to  the  whole 
people  and  assembly  in  Rome  :  he  thereby  stirred  vp  all  the  Romains  against  him. 
Antonius  on  the  other  side  sent  to  Rome  likewise  to  accuse  him,  and  the  chiefest 

pointes  of  his  accusations  he  charged  him  with,  were  these.  First, 
III,  vi,  18.  that  hauing  spoiled  Sextus  Pompeius  in  SiciLE,  he  did  not  giue  him 
III  vi  27.  ^^^  P^^  ^^  ^^^  ^^^*  Secondly,  that  he  did  detayne  in  his  hands  the 
shippes  he  lent  him  to  make  that  warre.  Thirdly,  that  hauing  pat 
Lepidus  their  companion  and  triumuirate  out  of  his  part  of  the  Empire,  and  hauing 
depriued  him  of  all  honors :  he  retayned  for  him  selfe  the  lands  and  reuenues  thereof, 
which  had  bene  assigned  vnto  him  for  his  part.  And  last  of  all,  that  he  had  in 
manner  deuided  all  Italy  amongest  his  owne  souldiers,  and  had  left  no  part  of  it 
for  his  souldiers.  Octauius  Casar  aunswered  him  againe :  that  for  Lepidus,  he  had 
in  deede  deposed  him,  and  taken  his  part  of  the  Empire  from  him,  because  he  did 
ouercruelly  vse  his  authoritie.  And  secondly,  for  the  conquests  he  had  made  by 
force  of  armes,  he  was  contented  Antonius  should  haue  his  part  of  them,  so  that  he 
would  likewise  let  him  haue  his  part  of  Armenia.  And  thirdly,  that  for  his  soul- 
diers, they  should  seeke  for  nothing  in  Italy,  because  they  possessed  Media  and 
Parthia,  the  which  prouinces  they  had  added  to  the  Empire  of  Rome,  valiantly 
fighting  with  their  Emperor  and  Giptaine.  Antonius  hearing  these  newes,  being 
yet  in  Armenia,  commaunded  Canidius  to  goe  presently  to  the  sea  side  with  his  six- 
teene  legions  he  had  :  and  he  himselfe  with  Cleopatra^  went  vnto  the  citie  of  EPH- 
Esvs,  and  there  gathered  together  his  gallies  and  shippes  out  of  all  partes,  which 
came  to  the  number  of  eight  hundreth,  reckoning  the  great  shippes  of  burden  :  and 
of  those  Cleopatra  furnished  him  with  two  hundreth,  and  twenty  thousand  talents 
besides,  &  prouision  of  victuals  also  to  mainteine  all  the  whole  armie  in  this  warre. 


PLUTARCH 


399 


So  AmtoHius,  through  the  perswasions  of  Domitiusj  commaunded  CUopatra^  to  retume 
agaune  into  Egypt,  and  there  to  vnderstand  the  successe  of  this  warre.  Bat  CUo- 
patra^  fearing  least  Antanius  should  againe  be  made  friends  with  Ocfamus  Grsar, 
by  the  meanes  of  his  wife  Octauia :  she  so  plyed  Canidius  with  money,  and  filled 
his  purse,  that  he  became  her  spokesman  vnto  Anionius,  and  told  him  there  was  do 
reason  to  send  her  from  this  war,  who  defraied  so  great  a  charge  :  neither  that  it  was 
for  his  profit,  because  that  thereby  the  Egyptians  would  then  be  vtterly  discoraged, 
which  were  the  chiefest  strength  of  the  armie  by  sea :  considering  that  he  could  see 
no  king  of  all  the  kings  their  confederates,  that  Cleopatra  was  inferior  vnto,  either 
for  wisedom  or  iudgement,  seeing  that  long  before  she  had  wisely  gouemed  so  great 
m  realme  as  yEoYFr,  &  besides  that  she  had  bene  so  long  acquainted  with  him,  by 
whom  she  had  learned  to  manedge  great  affaires.  These  faire  perswasions  wanne 
him :  for  it  was  predestined  that  the  gouemment  of  all  the  world  should  fall  into 
Octauius  Casars  handes.  Octauius  Casar  vnderstanding  the  sodaine 
&  wonderfull  great  preparation  of  An/omus,  he  was  not  a  litle  III,  iv,  30. 
astonied  at  it,  (fearing  he  should  be  driuen  to  fight  that  sommer) 
because  he  wanted  many  things,  &  the  great  and  grieuous  exactions  of  money  did 
sorely  oppresse  the  people.  .  .  . 

Furthermore,  Titius  and  Plancus  (two  of  Antonius  chiefest  friendes  and  that  had 
bene  both  of  them  Consuls)  for  the  great  iniuries  Cleopatra  did  them,  because  they 
hindred  all  they  could,  that  she  should  not  come  to  this  warre :  they  went  and  yeelded 
themselues  vnto  Casar^  and  tolde  him  where  the  testament  was  that 
Antonius  had  made,  knowing  perfitly  what  was  in  it.     The  will  was     •••    . 
in  the  custody  of  the  Vestall  Nunnes  :  of  whom  Casar  demanded  for 
it     They  answered  him,  that  they  would  not  giue  it  him  :  but  if  he 
would  goe  and  take  it,  they  would  not  hinder  him.     Thereupon  Casar  went  thither, 
&  hauing  read  it  first  to  himselfe,  he  noted  certen  places  worthy  of 
reproch  :  so  assembling  all  the  Senate,  he  read  it  before  them  all.  .  .  .     Ill,  iv,  5. 

Now  after  that  Casar  had  made  sufficient  preparation,  he  pro- 
claimed open  warre  against   Cleopatra^  and  made  the  people  to     III,  vii,  7. 
abolish  the  power  and  Empire  of  Antonius,  because  he  had  before 
giuen  it  vp  vnto  a  woman.     And  Casar  sayed  furthermore,  that  Antonius  was  not 
Maister  of  himselfe,  but  that  Cleopatra  had  brought  him  beside  himselfe,  by  her 
charmes  and  amarous  poysons:  and  that  they  that  shoulde  make 
warre  with  them,  should  be  Mardian  the  Eunuch,  Phoiinus,  and     w..   ^ 
Iras^  a  woman  of  Cleopatraes  bedchamber,  that  frizeled  her  haire, 
and  dressed  her  head,  and  Charmion,  the  which  were  those  that 
ruled  all  the  affaires  of  Antonius  Empire.      Before  this  warre  as  it  is  reported, 
many  signes  and   wonders  fell   out.  .  .  .  The   Admiral   galley  of 
Cleopatra^  was  called  AntoniaJe,  in   the  which  there  chanced  a     III,  z,  6. 
maruellous  ill  signe.     Swallowes  had  bred  vnder  the  poop  of  her     jy^  ^ii,  7. 
ship,  and  there  came  others  after  them  that  draue  away  the  first,  and 
plucked  down  their  neasts.    Now  when  all  things  were  readie,  &  that  they  drew  neare 
to  fight :  it  was  found  that  Antonius  had  no  lesse  then  fine  hundreth  good  ships  of  war, 
among  which  there  were  many  gallies  that  had  eight  &  ten  bancks  of  owers,  the  which 
were  sumptuously  furnished,  not  so  meete  for  fight,  as  for  triumph  :  a 
hundred  thousand  footmen,  and  twelue  thousand  horsemen,  and  had     III,  vi,  76. 
with  him  to  aide  him  these  kings  and  subiectes  following.     Bocchus 
king  of  Libya,  Tarcddemus  king  of  high  SiuciA,  Arckelaus  king  of  CAPPADoaA, 


A 


400 


APPENDIX 


Philadelphus  king  of  Paphlagonia,  Mithridates  king  of  CoMAGENA,  and  Adallas  king 
of  Thracia.  All  which  were  there  euery  man  in  person.  The  residue  that  were 
absent  sent  their  armies,  as  PoUmon  king  of  Pont,  Manchus  king  of  Arabia,  Heroda 
king  of  IVRY  :  and  furthermore,  Amyntas  king  of  Lycaonia,  &  of  the  Galatians  : 
and  besides  all  these,  he  had  all  the  aide  the  king  of  Meoes  sent  vnto  him.  Now 
for  Casar,  he  had  two  hundreth  and  fiftie  ships  of  warre,  fourescore  thousand  foot- 
men,  and  well  neare  as  many  horsmen  as  his  enemie  Antonius.  Antonius  for  his 
part,  had  all  vnder  his  dominion  from  Armenia,  &  the  riuer  of  Euphrates,  vnto  the 
sea  loNiVM  &  Illyricvm.  Octauius  Casar  had  also  for  his  part,  all  that  which  was 
in  our  Hemisphere,  or  halfe  part  of  the  world,  from  Illyria,  unto  the  Ocean  sea 
vpon  the  west :  then  all  from  the  Ocean,  vnto  mare  Siculum  :  &  from  Africk,  all 
that  which  is  against  Italy,  as  Gavle,  &  Spain.  Furthermore,  all  from  the  prooince 
of  Cyrenia,  to  i^THlOPiA,  was  subject  vnto  Anionius.  Now  Antonius  was  made 
so  subiect  to  a  womans  will,  that  though  he  was  a  great  deale  the  stronger  hf  land, 
yet  for  CUopatraes  sake  he  would  needes  haue  this  battell  tryed  by  sea :  though  he 
sawe  before  his  eyes,  that  for  lacke  of  water-menne,  his  Captaines  did  prest  by  force 

all  sortes  of  men  out  of  Grece  that  they  could  take  vp  in  the  field, 
•  l  J      £.  as  trauellers,  muletters,  reapers,  haruest  men,  and  young  boyes,  and 

yet  could  they  not  sufficiently  furnish  his  gallies :  so  that  the  most 

parte  of  them  were  eroptie,  and  could  scant  row,  because  they 
lacked  water-men  enowe.     But  on  the  contrarie  side  Casars  shippes  were  not  built 

for  pompe,  high  and  great,  onely  for  a  fight  and  brauery,  but  they 

III  vii  a8     ^^^^  ^*S^^  ^^  yarage :  armed  and  furnished  with  water-men  as  many 

as  they  needed,  and  had  them  al  in  readines,  in  the  hauens  of 
Tarentvm ,  &  Brvnd vsi VM.  So  Octauius  Otsar  sent  vnto  Antonius^ 
to  will  him  to  delay  no  more  time,  but  to  come  on  with  his  army  into  Italy  :  and 
that  for  his  owne  part  he  would  giue  him  safe  harbor,  to  land  without  any  trouble, 
and  that  he  would  withdraw  his  armie  from  the  sea,  as  farre  as  one  hone  could 
runne,  vntil  he  had  put  his  army  a  shore,  &  had  lodged  his  men.  Antonius  on  the 
other  side  brauely  sent  him  word  againe,  and  chalenged  the  combat  of  him  man  to 
man,  though  he  were  the  elder :  and  that  if  he  refused  him  so,  he  would  then  fight 
a  battell  with  him  in  the  fields  of  Pharsalia,  as  Julius  Casar^  &  Pompey  had  done 
before.  Now  whilst  Anionius  rode  at  anker,  lying  idlely  in  harbor  at  the  head  of 
AcTiUM,  in  the  place  where  the  ciiie  of  NicoPOLis  standeth  at  this  present :  Oesar 
had  quickly  passed  the  sea  Ionium,  and  taken  a  place  called  ToRYNE,  before  ylff/Mmtf 
vnderstoode  that  he  had  taken  ship.  .  .  . 

Furthermore,  he  delt  very  friendly  and  courteously  with  Domiiius^  and  against 
CUopatraes  minde.     For,  he  being  sicke  of  an  agew  when  he  went 

IV  V   1 8       ^^^  tooke  a  litle  boate  to  go  vnto  Casars  campe,  Anionius  was  very 

sorie  for  it,  but  yet  he  sent  after  him  all  his  cariage,  traine,  and  men : 
IV  iz   27       ^"^  ^^  same  Domiiius^  as  though  he  gaue  him  to  vnderstand  that 

he  repented  his  open  treason,  he  died  immediately  after.  .  .  . 
And  Canidius  also,  who  had  charge  of  his  armie  by  land,  when  time  came  to  follow 
Antonius  determination  :  he  turned  him  cleane  contrarie,  and  counselled  him  to  send 
Cleopatra  backe  againe,  and  himselfe  to  retire  into  Macedon,  to  fight  there  on  the 
maine  land.  And  furthermore  told  him,  that  Dicotnes  king  of  the  Gbtks,  promised 
him  to  aid  him  with  a  great  power :  and  that  it  should  be  no  shame  nor  dishonor  to 
him  to  let  Casar  haue  the  sea,  (because  himselfe  and  his  men  both  had  bene  well 
practised  and  exercised  in  battels  by  sea,  in  the  warre  of  SiLICIA  against  Sexius  Pom- 


PLUTARCH 


401 


pdus)  but  rather  that  he  should  doe  against  all  reason,  he  hauing  so  great  skill  and 

experience  of  battelles  by  land  as  he  had,  if  be  should  not  imploy  the  force  and 

▼aliantnes  of  so  many  lusty  armed  footemen  as  he  had  readie,  but 

would  weaken  his  armie  by  deuiding  them  into  shippes.     But  now     III,  vii,  5a. 

notwithstanding  all  these  good  perswasions,  Cleopatra  forced  him  to     \\\   yij^  k^. 

put  all  to  the  hazard  of  battell  by  sea :  considering  with  her  selfe 

how  she  might  flie  and  prouide  for  her  safetie,  not  to  helpe  him  to  win  the  victorie : 

but  to  flie  more  easily  after  the  battell  lost.  .  .  . 

So  when  Antonius  had  determined  to  fight  by  sea,  he  set  all  the  other  shippes  on 
fire,  but  threescore  ships  of  Egypt,  and  reserued  onely  but  the  best  and  greatest 
gallies,  from  three  bancks,  vnto  tenne  bancks  of  owers.     Into  them  he  put  two  & 
twenty  thousand  fighting  men,  with  two  thousand  darters  &  slingers.     Now  as  he 
was  setting  his  men  in  order  of  battel,  there  was  a  dptaine,  and  a  valiant  man,  that 
had  serued  Antonius  in  many  battels  &  conflicts,  &  had  all  his  body  hacked  and  cut: 
who  as  Antonius  passed  by  him,  cryed  out  vnto  him  &  said;  O 
noble  Emperor,  how  commeth  it  to  passe  that  you  trust  to  these  vile     •«•      £.     « 
brittle  shippes  ?  what  doe  you  mistrust  these  wounds  of  mine  and 
this  sword?  let  the  Egyptians  and  Phenicians  fight  by  sea,  and 
set  vs  on  the  maine  land,  where  we  vse  to  conquer,  or  to  be  slaine  on  our  feete. 
Antonius  passed  by  him  and  said  neuer  a  word,  but  onely  beckned  to  him  with  his 
hand  &  head,  as  though  he  willed  him  to  be  of  good  courage,  although  indeed  he 
had  no  great  courage  himselfe.  .  .  . 

All  that  day  and  the  three  dayes  following,  the  sea  rose  so  high  &  was  so  boister- 
ous, that  the  battell  was  put  ofl*.  The  fift  day  the  storme  ceased,  and  the  sea  calmed 
againe  and  then  they  rowed  with  force  of  owers  in  battell  one  against  the  other.  .  .  . 

Now  Publicola  seing  Agrippa  put  forth  his  left  wing  of  Casars  armie,  to  compasse 
in  Antonius  shippes  that  fought :  he  was  driuen  also  to  loofe  ofl*  to  haue  more  roome, 
ft  going  a  litle  at  one  side,  to  put  those  farther  ofl*  that  were  affraid,  and  in  the  mid- 
dest  of  the  battell.      For  they  were  sore  distressed  by  Aruntius, 

Howbeit  the  battell  was  yet  of  euen  hand,  and  the  victorie  doubtfull, 

III   z    z8 
being  indifferent  to  both  :  when  sodainely  they  sawe  the  threescore  '    ' 

shippes  of  Cleopatra  busie  about  their  yard  masts,  and  hoysing  saile 

to  flie.     So  they  fled  through  the  middest  of  them  that  were  in  fight,  for  they  had 

bene  placed  behind  the  great  shippes,  &  did  maruellously  disorder  the  other  shippes. 

For  the  enemies  them  selues  wondred  much  to  see  them  saile  in  that  sort,  with  ful 

saile  towards  Peloponnesvs.      There  Antonius  shewed  plainly,  that  he  had  not 

onely  lost  the  courage  and  hart  of  an  Emperor,  but  also  of  a  valiant  man,  &  that  he 

was  not  his  owne  man:  (prouing  that  true  wliich  an  old  man  spake  in  myrth,  that 

the  soule  of  a  louer  ISued  in  another  body,  and  not  in  his  owne)  he  was  so  caned 

away  with  the  vaine  loue  of  this  woman,  as  if  he  had  bene  glued  vnto  her,  &  that 

she  could  not  haue  remoued  without  mouing  of  him  also.     For  when  he  saw  Cleo- 

patraes  shippe  vnder  saile,  he  forgot,  forsook,  &  betrayed  them  that  fought  for  him, 

&  imbarked  vpon  a  galley  with  fiue  bankes  of  owers,  to  follow  her 

that  was  already  begun  to  ouerthrow  him,  &  would  in  the  end  be 

his  vtter  destruction.     When  she  knew  his  galley  a  farre  off",  she  lift  '    *    '* 

vp  a  signe  in  the  poope  of  her  shippe,  and  so  Antonius  coming  to  it, 

was  pluckt  vp  where  Cleopatra  was,  howbeit  he  saw  her  not  at  his  first  comming, 

nor  she  him,  but  went  and  sate  downe  alone  in  the  prow  of  his  shippe,  and  saied 

neuer  a  word,  clapping  his  head  betweene  both  his  hands.  .  .  . 

36 


402 


APPENDIX 


After  EurycUs  had  left  Antonius^  he  returned  againe  to  his  place,  and  sate  downe, 
speaking  neuer  a  word  as  he  did  before :  and  so  lined  three  dayes  alone,  without 

speaking  to  any  man.     But  when  he  arriued  at  the  head  of  Taenams, 

III      1  «8       ^cre  CUopairaes  women  first  brought  Antonius  and  CUopatra  to 

speake  together,  and  afterwards,  to  suppe  and  lye  together.     Then 

beganne  there  againe  a  great  number  of  Marchaunts  shippes  to  gather 

about  them,  and  some  of  their  friends  that  had  escaped  from  this  ouerthrow  :  who 

brought  newes,  that  his  army  by  sea  was  ouerthrown,  but  that  they  thought  the  army 

by  land  was  yet  whole.     Then  ArUoftius  sent  vnto  CanidiuSf  to  return  with  his  army 

into  Asia,  by  Macedon.     Now  for  himself,  he  determined  to  ciosse 
...      .  ouer  into  Africk,  &  took  one  of  his  carects  or  bulks  loden  with 

111     Zl    2^ 

gold,  siluer,  and  other  rich  cariage,  &  gaue  it  vnto  his  friends :  com> 

manding  them  to  depart,  and  to  seeke  to  saue  themselues.  They 
answered  him  weeping,  that  they  would  neither  doe  it,  nor  yet  forsake  him.  Then 
Ani&nius  verie  courteously  and  louingly  did  comfort  them,  and  prayed  them  to  depart : 
and  wrote  vnto  Theophilus  gouemor  of  Corinthe,  that  he  would  see  them  safe,  and 
helpe  to  hide  them  in  some  secret  place,  vntill  they  had  made  their  way  &  peace 
with  Casar.  .  .  . 

And  thus  it  stood  with  Antonius,     Now  for  his  armie  by  sea,  that  fought  before 

the  head  or  foreland  of  Activm  :  they  helde  out  a  long  time,  and 
...      .  nothing  troubled  them  more  then  a  great  boysterous  winde  that  rose 

full  in  the  prooes  of  their  shippes  and  yet  with  much  a  doe,  his  nanie 

was  at  length  ouerthrowen,  fine  houres  within  night.  .  .  . 
But  now  to  retume  to  Antonius  againe.  Canidius  himselfe  came  to  bring  him 
newes,  that  he  had  lost  all  his  armie  by  land  at  Activn  :  on  the  other  side  he  was 
aduertised  also,  that  Herodes  king  of  Ivrie,  who  had  also  certen  legions  and  bandes 
with  him,  was  reuolted  vnto  Casar,  and  all  the  other  kings  in  like  manner :  so  that, 
sauing  those  that  were  about  him,  he  had  none  left  him.  All  this  notwithstanding 
did  nothing  trouble  him,  and  it  seemed  that  he  was  contented  to  forgoe  all  his  hope, 
and  so  to  be  ridde  of  all  his  care  and  troubles.  Thereupon  he  left  his  solitarie  bouse 
he  had  built  by  the  sea  which  he  called  Timoneon,  and  CUopatra  receiued  him  into 
her  ro3rall  pallace.  He  was  no  sooner  com  thither,  but  he  straight  set  all  the  citie  on 
rioting  and  banquetting  againe,  and  himselfe  to  liberalitie  and  giftes.  He  caused  the 
Sonne  of  Julius  Casar  &  C/fopatra,  to  be  enrolled  (according  to  the  manner  of  the 
ROMAINS)  amongst  the  number  of  young  men :  and  gaue  Antyl/us,  his  eldest  son  he 
had  by  Eu/uia,  the  mans  gown,  the  which  was  a  plaine  gowne,  without  gard  or 

embroderie  of  purple.     For  these  things,  there  was  kept  great  feast- 
III,  xiii,  3.     ing,  banquetting  and  dancing  in  Alexandria  many  dayes  together. 

In  deede  they  did  breake  their  first  order  they  had  set  downe,  which 
they  called  Amimetobion,  (as  much  to  say,  no  life  comparable)  &  did  set  vp  another, 
which  they  called  Synapothanumenon  (signifying  the  order  and  agreement  of  those  that 
will  dye  together)  the  which  in  exceeding  sumptuousnes,  and  cost  was  not  inferior  to 
the  first.  For  their  friendes  made  themselues  to  be  inrolled  in  this  order  of  those  that 
would  die  together,  and  so  made  great  feastes  one  to  another :  for  euerie  mim  when  it 
came  to  his  tume,  feasted  their  whole  companie  and  ftatemitie.  CUopatra  in  the  meane 
time  was  verie  carefull  in  gathering  all  sorts  of  poysons  together,  to  destroy  men. 
Now  to  make  proofe  of  those  poysons  which  made  men  die  with  least  paine,  she  tiyed 
it  vpon  condemned  men  in  prison.  For  when  she  saw  the  poysons  that  were  sodaine 
and  vehement,  and  brought  speedy  death  with  grieuous  torments:  &  in  contraxy 


PLUTARCH 


403 


manner,  that  sach  as  were  more  milde  and  gentle,  had  not  that  quicke  speede  and 
force  to  make  one  dye  sodainely  :  she  afterwardes  went  about  to  proue  the  stinging 
of  snakes  and  adders,  and  made  some  to  be  applyed  vnto  men  in  her  sight,  some  in 
one  sorte  and  some  in  another.     So  when  she  had  daily  made  diuers  and  sundrie 
proofes,  she  found  none  of  them  all  she  had  proued  so  fit,  as  the  biting  of  an  Aspick, 
the  which  causeth  onely  a  heauines  of  the  head,  without  swounding  or  complaining, 
and  bringeth  a  great  desire  also  to  sleepe,  with  a  litle  swet  in  the  face,  and  so  by  litle 
and  litle  taketh  away  the  senses  &  vitall  powers,  no  liuing  creature  perceiuing  that 
the  patients  feele  any  paine.     For  they  are  so  sorie  when  any  bodie  awaketh  them, 
and  taketh  them  vp :  as  those  that  being  taken  out  of  a  sound  sleep,  are  very  heauie 
and  desirous  to  sleepe.    This  notwithstanding,  they  sent  Ambassadors  vnto  Octatdus 
Oesar  in  Asia,  CUopatra  requesting  the  realme  of  iEcYPT  for  their  children,  and 
Antonius  praying  that  he  might  be  suffered  to  Hue  at  Athens  like  a  priuate  mA,  if 
Casar  would  not  let  him  remaine  in  JEgyvt,     And  because  they  had  no  other  men 
of  estimation  about  them,  for  that  some  were  fled,  and  those  that 
remained,  they  did  not  greatly  trust  them :  they  were  inforced  to     - ,-      .. 
send  Euphronius  the  schoolemaister  of  their  children.     For  AUxas 
Laodician,  who  was  brought  into  Antonius  house  &  fauour  by 
meanes  of  Tiniagenes^  and  afterwards  was  in  greater  credit  with  him,  then  any  other 
Grecian  :  (for  that  he  had  alway  bene  one  of  CUopairaes  ministers  to  win  AntoniuSy 
&  to  ouerthrow  all  his  good  determinations  to  vse  his  wife  Octauia  well)  him  Antonius 
had  sent  vnto  Herodes  king  of  Ivrie,  hoping  still  to  keepe  him  his  friend,  that  he 
should  not  reuolt  from  him.     But  he  remained  there,  and  betrayed  Antonius.     For 
where  he  should  haue  kept  Herodes  frO  reuolting  from  him,  he 
perswaded  him  to  turne  to  Casar  :  &  trusting  king  Herodesy  he  pre- 
sumed to  come  in  Casar s  presence.     Howbeit  Her  odes  did  him  no  »      »    /• 
pleasure :  for  he  was  presently  taken  prisoner,  and  sent  in  chaines  to 
his  own  country,  &  there  by  Casars  commaundement  put  to  death.    Thus  was  Alexas 
in  Antonius  life  time  put  to  death,  for  betraying  of  him.    Furthermore,  Casar  would 
not  graunt  vnto  Antonius  requestes  :  but  for  Cleopatra^  he  made  her  aunswere,  that 
he  would  deny  her  nothing  reasonable,  so  that  she  would  either  put  Antonius  to 
death,  or  driue  him  out  of  her  country.     There  withall  he  sent 
nyreus  one  of  his  men  vnto  her,  a  very  wise  and  discreet  man, 
who  bringing  letters  of  credit  from  a  young  Lord  vnto  a  noble  Lady,  '       '  ^  * 
and  that  besides  greatly  liked  her  beautie,  might  easily  by  his  elo- 
quence haue  perswaded  her.     He  was  longer  in  talke  with  her  then  any  man  else 
was,  and  the  Queene  her  selfe  also  did  him  great  honour :  in  somuch  as  he  made 
Antonius  ielous  of  him.     Whereupon  Antonius  caused  him  to  be 
taken  and  well  fauoredly  whipped,  and  so  sent  him  vnto  Casar : 
and  bad  him  tell  him  that  he  made  him  angry  with  him,  because          '        ' 
he  shewed  himselfe  proude  and  disdainfull  towardes  him,  and  now 
specially  when  he  was  easie  to  be  angred,  by  reason  of  his  present  miserie.     To  be 
short,  if  this  mislike  thee  sayd  he,  thou  hast  Hipparchus  one  of  my  infranchised 
bondmen  with  thee :  hang  him  if  thou  wilt,  or  whippe  him  at  thy  pleasure,  that  we 
may  crie  quittaunce.    From  thenceforth,  Cleopatra  to  cleare  her  selfe  of  the  suspition 
he  had  of  her,  she  made  more  of  him  then  euer  she  did.     For  first 
of  all,  where  she  did  solemnise  the  day  of  her  birth  very  meanely     III,  ziii,  2zg. 
and  sparingly,  fit  for  her  present  misfortune :  she  now  in  contrary 
maner  did  keepe  it  with  such  solemnitie,  that  she  exceeded  all  measure  of  sump- 


404  APPESDIX 

tnonsnesse  aod  magnificence:  so  that  the  guestcs  that  were  bidden  to  the 
feasts,  and  came  poore,  went  away  rich.  Now  things  paswng  dui-^,  Agriffm  by 
diners  letters  sent  one  after  an  other  rnto  Ots^r^  ^njtd  him  to  letniue  to  RoMi, 
because  the  affaires  there  did  of  necessitie  reqaire  his  person  and  prcsenoe.  Tboe- 
opon  he  did  deferre  the  wane  till  the  next  yeare  ic>llowing :  bat  when 
done,  he  returned  againe  throogh  Syria  by  the  coast  of  Afuocx,  to 
against  Am/tmuts,  and  his  other  Captainea.  ^lien  the  dtie  of  Peltsitm  w«s  taken, 
there  ran  a  ramor  in  the  dtie,  that  Stlaina^  by  Cletfatnaa  consent,  had 
the  same.  Bat  to  cleare  her  selfe  that  she  did  not,  Otjfmfra  htom^  Sdemau 
and  children  vnto  Amicmius^  to  be  rcnenged  of  them  at  his  pleasnre. 
CUafatra  had  long  before  made  many  samptaons  tnmhf%  and  maBsmcms,  as  well 
for  ezcellende  of  workemanship,  as  for  hig^t  and  gieatnesse  of  btrilding,  iojnnBg 
hard  lo  the  ten^e  of  /at.  Thither  fSat  caused  to  be  biunght  afl  the  treasure  and 
ptetioos  things  she  had  of  the  anncient  kings  her  predecesaoms  :  as  fold,  afaiec, 
emcTods  pearles^  ebbooie,  inocie,  and  sinamoo,  and  hrgdrs  all  that,  a  mamBdloas 
vnnbrr  of  torches,  faggots,  and  fiaxe.  So  0:tmmims  Ck'sar  being  afliaycd  to  ioote 
snch  a  treasme  and  masse  of  richesse,  and  that  this  woman  for  spigfat  woald  set  it  a 
fire,  and  bane  it  enery  whit :  he  alwayes  sent  some  one  or  other  mto  her  hum  him. 
to  pnt  her  in  good  comfort,  whilest  he  in  the  meane  time  drew  neare  the  cilie  with 
his  azmie.  So  Cfxar  came,  and  piiched  his  caa^  hard  by  the  citie,  m  tke  pboe 
^ihut  they  mime  and  manage  their  bones.  Amfmmn  made  a  saly  vpoa  him,  and 
foc|>ht  very  valianthr,  so  that  he  draae  C>rurrj  hocsemen  backe,  tightii^  widi  his 
men  cnen  into  thesx  campe.  Then  he  came  againe  to  the  pall  are,  gieally 
of  this  Tictone,  and  sweete^r  kissed  O.ymi^s^  anned  ms  he  was,  when  be 

the  %ht,  reoonmendiiig  one  cf  his  bkh  of  anaes  Tsto  her,  thit  had 

TaliaoiiT  foaght  in  this  skzrmiaii.     di'fpmtra  to  ie«aiJ  his  ma&- 

,  Tuu  34.     2,^^^^^  g^g^  2^^  ^^  mrmcfsa  k.  head  peeoe  of  c^eane  gold  :  hovheit 

ibe  man  ai  ars^es  wixs  he  had  vecezned  this  rich  gift«  stale  away  bjr 
BBght,  and  went  :•>  Curss'r,^     Aurnmnrr  sesrt  againe  lo  rhilrnge  Oxfr,  to  fight  with 

him  hand  to  hani.      Casar  ainkswen»d  him,  dtat  he  had  maonr  odber 
•«.   .   .  wayes  to  ^hre  ibea  &x     Then  Aaamxmi  xtiog  tkere  was  no  say 

mc«e  hooocTzru^  ice  him  to  dye,  then  fighting  valiaady :  he  deter- 
IV,  SI,  jt.       xBinei  to  sec  tj.  his  rest,  bc<h  by  sea  and  land-     So  beiqg  ai  stffO, 

,  as  x  ss  irjkinei  \  he  ciiiiiinwinacd  his  imxxis  aad  hossdmld  ler* 
nan&T>  ihi.:  waiiei  ob  him  a:  ^is  hard,  iiui  d>cy  sSkocjd  fill  his  capper  hUX,  tad 
make  as  lanch  of  tim  as  they  c^xSia  z  lor  sayd  be.  yon  kxww  zut  whether  job  sioll 
di£k  so  mncL  ioc  a»e  to  man-i?w  cr  n^-«,  or  wiiesher  vck  s&all  seme  an  <iCher  miister: 
and  it  may  be  yeic  s^iul  are  me  no  move,  bm  a  aead  body.  This  nm.wiih>fanfcf» 
pemnm^  iha:  bis  triends  and  men  ien  a  wrcpn^  i»  heare  him  say  so :  to  alK 
that  he  Vai  j^vikci;.  he  aioei  this  mne  vnt^  ia.  ^tu  be  wscjd  not  lead  then  to  btf- 
teH.  m^MTt  he  ^icaif  h:  luc  rasher  saiebr  ir  n^uutt  wch  ricszirie,  then  vaBaoCly  to  dw 
with  h^air«3,  Fanheanwre^  the  iielie  ssane  tu^'si  wxhia  I:ije  of  midnoght,  whea  sD 
tbf  citae  was  qme^  f&I; ,-«  ieare.  ani  aorrrw^  nuniki]^  what  wovld  be  the  issae  uA 

mi  «-c  ibis  ^mirt :  t:  is  suyz  rha:  9odairi}y  ihey  heard  a  mandhai 

ny  «^  .^      $w«eQe  harmmte  of  smdrv  sr:es  cc  xnsrcmentes  cf  hi»»^Ap,  wA 
t w,  av.  sftw 

:he  cne  of  a  mxilbmae  of  pecpie.  as  dsey  had  bene  «*■■■»«  "^  am 

hac  Mg^  a$>  ibe«  ^se  n:  HA-^iat:  ieassc  wish  ^■^^^■'T'TgT  and  taaiap 

%!htK  the  manner  x  :he  Sa^^Te:^ :  and  i:  «*'!i»f^-  ihai  this  dasnce  went  thioash  ike 

city  TSto  ;he  |>ate  iha:  opeoied  xr  the  fwmiiei.  and  ihae  aH  d»e  trac^  that  maAe  thB 


PLUTARCH 


405 


Doyse  they  heard,  went  out  of  the  citie  at  that  gate.  Now,  snch  as  in  reason  sought 
the  depth  of  the  interpretation  of  this  wonder,  thought  that  it  was  the  god  vnto  whom 
Antonius  bare  singular  deuotion  to  counterfeit  and  resemble  him,  that  did  forsake 
them.  The  next  morning  by  breake  of  day,  he  went  to  set  those  few  footemen  he 
had  in  order  ypon  the  hils  adioyning  vnto  the  citie :  and  there  he 
stood  to  behold  his  gallies  which  departed  from  the  hauen,  and 
rowed  against  the  gallies  of  his  enemies,  and  so  stood  still,  looking  *    '  ^' 

what  exploit  his  souldiers  in  them  would  do.  But  when  by  force 
of  rowing  they  were  come  neare  vnto  them,  they  first  saluted  Casars  men  :  and  then 
Casars  men  resaluted  them  also,  and  of  two  armies  made  but  one,  and  then  did  all 
together  row  toward  the  citie.  When  Antonius  saw  that  his  men  did  forsake  him, 
mnd  yeelded  vnto  Casar^  and  that  his  footemen  were  broken  and  ouerthrowen  :  he 
then  fled  into  the  citie,  ciying  out  that  Cleopatra  had  betrayed  him  vnto  them,  with 
whom  he  had  made  warre  for  her  sake.  The  she  being  alTrayed  of  his  fury,  fled 
into  the  tombe  which  she  had  caused  to  be  made,  and  there  locked 

the  doores  vnto  her,  and  shut  all  the  springs  of  the  lockes  with  great 

I^^   xiii   ^ 
boltes,  and  in  the  meane  time  sent  vnto  Antonius  to  tell  him  that  '        '  ^* 

she  was  dead.     Antonius  beleeuing  it,  sayd  vnto  himselfe:  what 

doest  thou  looke  for  further,  Antonius^  sith  spightfull  fortune  hath  taken  from  thee 

the  onely  ioy  thou  haddest,  for  whom  thou  yet  reseruedst  thy  life  ?  when  he  had 

sayd  these  words,  he  went  into  a  chamber  &  vnarmed  himselfe,  and  being  naked  said 

thus :  O  Cleopatra^  it  grieueth  me  not  that  I  haue  lost  thy  companie,  for  I  will  not 

be  long  from  thee :  but  I  am  sory,  that  hauing  bene  so  great  a  Captaine  and  Emper- 

oor,  I  am  indeede  condemned  to  be  iudged  of  lesse  courage  &  noble 

minde,  then  a  woman.     Now  he  had  a  man  of  his  called  Eros,    «X7  >• 

'    IV,  XIV,  7a. 

whom  he  loued  and  trusted  much,  and  whom  he  had  long  before 
caused  to  sweare  vnto  him,  that  he  should  kill  him  when  he  did  *"»  **^»  97» 
oommaunde  him:  and  then  he  willed  him  to  keepe  his  promise. 
His  man  drawing  his  sword,  lift  it  vp  as  though  he  meant  to  haue  striken  his  mais- 
ter :  but  turning  his  head  at  one  side,  he  thrust  his  sword  into  himselfe,  and  fell 
downe  dead  at  his  maisters  foote.  Then  sayd  Antonius,  O  noble  Eros,  I  thanke 
thee  for  this,  and  it  is  valiantly  done  of  thee,  to  shew  me  what  I  should  do  to  my 
selfe,  which  thou  couldest  not  do  for  me.  Therewithal!  he  tooke  his  sword,  and 
thrust  it  into  his  belHe,  and  so  fell  downe  vpon  a  litle  bed.  The  wounde  he  had 
killed  him  not  presently,  for  the  bloud  stinted  a  litle  when  he  was  layed :  and  when 
he  came  somewhat  to  himselfe  againe,  he  prayed  them  that  were  about  him  to  dis- 
patch him.  But  they  all  fled  out  of  the  chamber,  and  left  him  crying  out  &  torment- 
ing himselfe :  vntill  at  last  there  came  a  Secretarie  vnto  him  called  Diomedes,  who 
was  commaunded  to  bring  him  into  the  tombe  or  monument  where  Cleopatra  was. 
Whe  he  heard  that  she  was  aliue,  he  very  earnestly  prayed  his  men  to  carie  his  body 
thither,  and  so  he  was  caried  in  his  mens  armes  into  the  entry  of  the  monument 
Notwithstanding,  Cleopatra  would  not  open  the  gates,  but  came  to  the  high  win- 
dowes,  and  cast  out  certaine  chaines  and  ropes,  in  the  which  Antonius  was  trussed : 
and  Cleopatra  her  owne  selfe,  with  two  women  onely,  which  she  had  suffered  to 
come  with  her  into  these  monuments,  trised  Antonius  vp.  They  that  were  present 
to  behold  it,  sayd  they  neuer  saw  so  pitifuU  a  sight.  For,  they  plucked  vp  poore 
Antonius  all  bloudy  as  he  was,  and  drawing  on  with  pangs  of  death,  who  holding 
vp  his  hands  to  Cleopatra,  raised  vp  himselfe  as  well  as  he  could.  It  was  a  hard 
thing  for  these  women  to  do,  to  lift  him  vp :  but  Cleopatra  stouping  downe  with  her 


4o6  APPENDIX 

head,  putting  all  her  strength  to  her  vttermost  power,  did  lift  him  vp  with  modi 
a  do,  and  neuer  let  go  her  hold,  with  the  helpe  of  the  women  beneath  that  bad  her 
be  of  good  courage,  and  were  as  sory  to  see  her  labour  so,  as  she  her  selfe.  So 
when  she  had  gotten  him  in  after  that  sort,  and  layed  him  on  a  bed :  she  rent  her 
garments  vpon  him,  clapping  her  brest,  and  scratching  her  face  and  stomacke. 
Then  she  dried  vp  his  bloud  that  had  berayed  his  face,  and  called  him  her  Lord,  her 
husband,  and  Emperour,  forgetting  her  owne  miserie  and  calamity,  for  the  pitie  and 

compasion  she  tooke  of  him.    Antonius  made  her  ceasse  her  lament- 

,,,  ^      ing,  and  called  for  wine,  either  because  he  was  a  thirst,  or  else  for 

*       *  ^  *    that  he  thought  thereby  to  hasten  his  death.     When  he  had  dronke, 

he  earnestly  prayed  her,  and  perswaded  her,  that  she  would  seeke 
to  saue  her  life,  if  she  could  possible,  without  reproche  and  dishonour :  and  that 
cheifly  she  should  trust  Proculeius  aboue  any  man  else  about  Ccuar,  And  as  for 
himselfe,  that  she  should  not  lament  nor  sorow  for  the  miserable  chaunge  of  his  for- 
tune at  the  end  of  his  dayes  :  but  rather  that  she  should  thinke  him  the  more  fortu- 
nate, for  the  former  triumphes  &  honours  he  had  receiued,  considering  that  while  he 
lined  he  was  the  noblest  and  greatest  Prince  of  the  world,  &  that  now  he  was  oucr- 
come,  not  cowardly,  but  Yaliantly,  a  Romaine  by  an  other  RoMAlNE.  As  Antonius 
gaue  the  laste  gaspe,  Proculeit€s  came  that  was  sent  frO  Casar,     For  after  AnUmius 

had  thrust  his  sword  in  himselfe,  as  they  caried  him  into  the  tombes 

and  monuments  of  CUopatray  one  of  his  gard  called  DerceUmSy 
'  '*  '  *  tooke  his  sword  with  the  which  he  had  striken  himselfe,  and  hid  it : 

then  he  secretly  stale  away,  and  brought  Octauius  Casar  the  first 
newes  of  his  death,  &  shewed  him  his  sword  that  was  bloudied.  Casar  hearing  these 
newes,  straight  withdrew  himselfe  into  a  secret  place  of  his  tent,  and  there  burst  out 
with  teares,  lamenting  his  hard  and  miserable  fortune,  that  had  bene  his  friend  and 
brother  in  law,  his  equall  in  the  Empire,  and  companion  with  him  in  sundry  great 
exploits  and  battels.  Then  he  called  for  all  his  friendes,  and  shewed  them  the  letters 
Antonius  had  written  to  him,  and  his  aunsweres  also  sent  him  againe,  during  their 
quarrell  and  strife :  and  how  fiercely  and  proudly  the  other  aunswered  him,  to  all 
iust  and  reasonable  matters  he  wrote  vnto  him.  After  this,  he  sent  ProculnuSy  and 
commaunded  him  to  do  what  he  could  possible  to  get  Cleopatra  aliue,  fearing  least 
otherwise  all  the  treasure  would  be  lost :  &  furthermore,  he  thought  that  if  he  could 
take  CUopatroj  and  bring  her  aliue  to  Rome,  she  would  maniellously  beautifie  and 
set  out  his  triumphe.  But  Cleopatra  would  neuer  put  her  selfe  into  Proculeius  handes, 
although  they  spake  together.  For  Proculeius  came  to  the  gates  that  were  very  thicke 
&  strong,  and  surely  barred,  but  yet  there  were  some  cranewes  through  the  which 
her  voyce  might  be  h^rd,  and  so  they  without  vnderstood,  that  Cleopatra  demaunded 
the  kingdome  of  i^GYPT  for  her  sonnes :  and  that  Proculeius  aunswered  her,  that  she 
should  be  of  good  cheare,  and  not  be  affrayed  to  referre  all  vnto  Casar,  After  he 
had  viewed  the  place  very  well,  he  came  and  reported  her  answere  vnto  Casar. 
Who  immediately  sent  Callus  to  speake  once  againe  with  her,  and  bad  him  pur- 
posely hold  her  with  talke,  whilest  Proculeius  did  set  vp  a  ladder  against  that  high 
window,  by  the  which  Antonius  was  trised  vp,  and  came  downe  into  the  monument 
with  two  of  his  men  hard  by  the  gate,  where  Cleopatra  stood  to  heare  what  Callus 
sayd  vnto  her.  One  of  her  women  which  was  shut  in  her  monumets  with  her,  saw 
Proculeius  by  chance  as  he  came  downe,  and  shreeked  out :  O  poore  Cleopatra^  thou 
art  taken.  Then  when  she  saw  Proculeius  behind  her  as  she  came  from  the  gate, 
she  thought  to  haue  stabbed  her  selfe  in  with  a  short  dagger  she  wore  of  purpose  by 


PLUTARCH  407 

her  side.  But  Proculeius  came  sodainly  vpon  her,  and  taking  her  by  both  the  hands, 
sayd  vnto  her.  Cleopatra^  first  thou  shalt  do  thy  selfe  great  wrong,  and  secondly  vnto 
Grsar :  to  depriue  him  of  the  occasion  and  oportunitie,  openly  to  shew  his  bountie 
and  merde,  and  to  giue  his  enemies  cause  to  accuse  the  most  curteous  and  noble  Prince 
that  euer  was,  and  to  appeache  him,  as  though  he  were  a  cruell  and  mercilesse  man, 
that  were  not  to  be  trusted.  So  euen  as  he  spake  the  word,  he  tooke  her  dagger 
from  her,  and  shooke  her  clothes  for  feare  of  any  poyson  hidden  about  her.  After- 
wardes  Casar  sent  one  of  his  infranchised  men  called  Epaphroditns^  whom  he 
straightly  charged  to  looke  well  vnto  her,  and  to  beware  in  any  case  that  she  made 
not  her  selfeaway  :  and  for  the  rest,  to  vse  her  with  all  the  curtesie  possible.  .  .  . 

Therefore  Casar  did  put  Casarion  to  death,  after  the  death  of  his  mother  Cleo- 
patra. Many  Princes,  great  kings  &  Captaines  did  craue  Antonius  body  of  Octauius 
Cesar y  to  giue  him  honourable  burial  1 :  but  Casar  would  neuer  take  it  from  Cleopatra^ 
who  did  sumptuously  &  royally  bury  him  with  her  own  hands,  whom  Casar  sufTred 
to  take  as  much  as  she  would  to  bestow  vpon  his  funerals.  Now  was  she  altogether 
ouercome  with  sorow  &  passion  of  minde,  for  she  had  knocked  her  brest  so  pitifully, 
that  she  had  martyred  it,  and  in  diuers  places  had  raysed  vlcers  &  inflammations,  so 
that  she  fell  into  a  feuer  withall :  whereof  she  was  very  glad,  hoping 
thereby  to  haue  good  colour  to  absteine  from  meate,  and  that  so  she  ^»  ^»  59* 
might  haue  dyed  easily  without  any  trouble.  She  had  a  Phisition  V,  ii,  193. 
called  Olympus,  whom  she  made  priuie  of  her  intent,  to  the  end  he 
should  helpe  her  to  rid  her  out  of  her  life :  as  Olympus  writeth  himselfe,  who  vrrote 
a  booke  of  all  these  things.  But  Casar  mistrusted  the  matter,  by  many  coniectures 
he  had,  and  therefore  did  put  her  in  feare,  and  threatned  her  to  put  her  children  to 
shameful!  death.  With  these  threates,  Cleopatra  for  feare  yeelded  straight,  as  she 
would  haue  yeelded  vnto  strokes :  &  afterwards  sufTred  her  selfe  to  be  cured  and 
dieted  as  they  listed.  Shortly  after,  Casar  came  himself  in  person  to  see  her,  &  to 
cOfort  her.  Cleopatra  being  layed  vpon  a  litle  low  bed  in  poore  estate,  when  she 
saw  Casar  come  into  her  chamber,  she  sodainly  rose  vp,  naked  in  her  smocke,  and 
fell  downe  at  his  feete  maruellously  disfigured :  both  for  that  she  had  plucked  her  haire 
from  her  head,  as  also  for  that  she  had  martired  all  her  face  with  her  nayles,  and 
besides,  her  voyce  was  small  and  trembling,  her  eyes  sunke  into  her  head  with  con> 
tinuall  blubbering  and  moreouer,  they  might  see  the  most  part  of  her  stomake  tome 
in  sunder.  To  be  short,  her  body  was  not  much  better  then  her  minde :  yet  her 
good  grace  and  comelynesse,  and  the  force  of  her  beautie  was  not  altogether  defaced. 
But  notwithstanding  this  ougly  and  pitifull  state  of  hers,  yet  she  shewed  herselfe 
within,  by  her  outward  lookes  and  countenance.  When  Casar  had  made  her  lye 
downe  againe,  and  sate  by  her  beds  side :  Cleopatra  began  to  cleare  and  excuse  her 
selfe  for  that  she  had  done,  laying  all  to  the  feare  she  had  of  Antonius  :  Casar ^  in 
contrary  manner,  reproued  her  in  euery  point.  Then  she  sodainly  altered  her 
speach,  and  prayed  him  to  pardon  her,  as  though  she  were  affrayed  to  dye,  and 
desirous  to  Hue.  At  length,  she  gaue  him  a  briefe  and  memoriall  of  all  the  ready 
money  and  treasure  she  had.  But  by  chaunce  there  stood  Seleucus  by,  one  of  her 
Treasurers,  who  to  seeme  a  good  seruant,  came  straight  to  Casar  to  disproue  CUo- 
patra,  that  she  had  not  set  in  all,  but  kept  many  things  backe  of  purpose.  Cleopatra 
was  in  such  a  rage  with  him,  that  she  flew  vpon  him,  &  tooke  him  by  the  haire  of 
the  head,  and  boxed  him  welfauouredly.  Casar  fell  a  laughing,  and  parted  the 
fray.  Alas,  sayd  she,  O  Casar:  is  not  this  a  great  shame  and  reproche,  that  thou 
hauing  vouchsaued  to  take  the  paines  to  come  vnto  me,  and  hast  done  me  this  hon- 


4o8  APPENDIX 

our,  poore  wretch,  and  caitife  creature,  brought  ioto  this  pitiful!  and  miserable  estate : 

and  that  mine  owne  seruants  should  come  now  to  accuse  me,  though 

V,  ii,  i68.      it  may  be  I  haue  reserued  some  iewels  and  trifles  meete  for  women, 

but  not  for  me  (p>oore  soule)  to  set  out  my  selfe  withall,  but  mean- 

V,  ii,  aoo.      ing  to  giue  some  pretie  presents  and  giftes  vnto  Octauia  and  Lima^ 

that  they  making  meanes  &  intercession  for  me  to  thee,  thou  mightest 

yet  extend  thy  fauour  and  mercy  vpon  me  ?  Casar  was  glad  to  heare  her  say  so,  per* 

swading  him  selfe  thereby  that  she  had  yet  a  desire  to  saue  her  life.     So  he  made 

her  aunswere,  that  he  did  not  onely  giue  her  that  to  dispose  of  at  her  pleasure,  which 

she  had  kept  backe,  but  further  promised  to  vse  her  more  honorably  and  bountifully 

than  she  would  thinke  for :  and  so  he  tooke  his  leaue  of  her,  supposing  he  had 

deceiued  her,  but  indeede  he  was  deceiued  himselfe.     There  was 

.^   ..  a  young  gentleman  Cornelius  Dolabella^  that  was  one  of  Casars  very 

great  familiars,  &  besides  did  beare  no  euill  wil  vnto  Cleopatra.    He 

sent  her  word  secretly  as  she  had  requested  him,  that  O^ar  determined 

to  take  his  iomey  through  Syria,  &  that  within  three  dales  he  would  send  her  away 

before  with  her  children.     When  this  was  told  Cleopatra^  she  requested  Casar  that 

it  would  please  him  to  suffer  her  to  offer  the  last  oblations  of  the  dead,  vnto  the  soule 

of  Antonius,     This  being  graunted  her,  she  was  caried  to  the  place  where  his  tomhe 

was,  and  there  falling  downe  on  her  knees,  imbracing  the  tombe  with  her  women, 

*  the  teares  running  down  her  cheekes,  she  began  to  speake  in  this  sort :  O  my  deare  ' 

*  Lord  Antonius^  not  long  sithence  I  buried  thee  here,  being  a  free  woman  :  and  now 

*  I  offer  vnto  thee  the  funerall  sprinklings  and  oblations,  being  a  capytiue  and  prisoner, 

*  and  yet  I  am  forbidden  and  kept  from  tearing  &  murthering  this  captiue  body  of  mine 

*  with  blowes,  which  they  carefully  gard  and  keepe,  only  to  triumphe  of  thee :  look 

*  therefore  henceforth  for  no  other  honours,  offerings,  nor  sacrifices  from  me,  for  these 
'  are  the  last  which  Cleopatra  can  giue  thee,  sith  now  they  carie  her  away.  Whilest 
'  we  lined  together,  nothing  could  seuer  our  companies :  but  now  at  our  death,  I  feaure 

*  me  they  will  make  vs  chaunge  our  countryes.     For  as  thou  being  a  Romaine,  hast 

*  bene  buried  in  Mg\yi  :  euen  so  wretched  creature  I,  an  i^YPTiAN,  shall  be  buried 
'  in  Italie,  which  shall  be  all  the  good  that  I  haue  receiued  by  thy  coimtry.    If  there- 

*  fore  the  gods  where  thou  art  now  haue  any  power  &  authoritie,  sith  our  gods  here 
'  haue  forsake  vs :  suffer  not  thy  true  friend  and  louer  to  be  caried  away  aliue,  that  in 
'  me,  they  triumphe  of  thee :  but  receiue  me  with  thee,  and  let  me  be  buried  in  one 
'  selfe  tombe  with  thee.    For  though  my  griefes  and  miseries  be  infinite,  yet  none  hath 

*  grieued  me  more,  nor  that  I  could  lesse  beare  withall :  then  this  small  time,  which 

*  I  haue  bene  driue  to  Hue  alone  without  thee.  Then  hauing  ended  these  dolelull 
plaints,  and  crowned  the  tombe  with  garlands  and  sundry  nosegayes,  and  maruellous 
louingly  imbraced  the  same :  she  commaunded  they  should  prepare  her  bath,  and 
when  she  had  bathed  and  washed  her  selfe,  she  fell  to  her  meate,  and  was  sumptn- 
ously  serued.  Now  whilest  she  was  at  dinner,  there  came  a  countryman,  and  brought 
her  a  basket.  The  souldiers  that  warded  at  the  gates,  asked  straight  what  he  had  in 
his  basket.  He  opened  the  basket,  and  tooke  out  the  leaues  that  couered  the  figges, 
and  shewed  them  that  they  were  figges  he  brought.  They  all  of  them  maruelled  to 
see  so  goodly  figges.  The  countryman  laughed  to  heare  them,  and  bad  them  take 
some  if  they  would.  They  beleeued  he  told  them  truely,  and  so  bad  him  carie  them 
in.  After  Cleopatra  had  dined,  she  sent  a  certaine  table  written  and  sealed  vnto 
Casar^  and  commaunded  them  all  to  go  out  of  the  tombes  where  she  was,  but  the 
two  women,  then  she  shut  the  doores  to  her.     Casar  when  he  receiued  this  table, 


DRYDEN—ALL  FOR  LOVE 


409 


and  began  to  read  her  lametation  and  petition,  requesting  him  that  he  would  let  her 
be  buried  with  Antonius^  found  straight  what  she  meant,  and  thought  to  haue  gone 
thither  himselfe :  howbeit  he  sent  one  before  in  all  hast  that  might  be,  to  see  what  it 
was.    Her  death  was  very  sodaine.    For  those  whom  Casar  sent  vnto  her  ran  thither 
in  all  hast  possible,  &  found  the  souldiers  standing  at  the  gate,  mistrusting  noth- 
ing, nor  vnderstanding  of  her  death.    But  when  they  had  opened  the  doores,  they 
found  Cleopatra  starke  dead,  layed  vpon  a  bed  of  gold,  attired  &  arayed  in  her  roy- 
all  robes,  and  one  of  her  two  women,  which  was  called  Iras^  dead  at  her  feete :  and 
her  other  woman  called  Charmion  halfe  dead,  and  trembling,  trim- 
ming the  Diademe  which  Cleopatra  ware  vpon  her  head.     One  of 
the  souldiers  seeing  her,  angrily  sayd  vnto  her :  is  that  well  done        '  ^  ^'^' 
Charmion  /    Very  well  sayd  she  againe,  and  meete  for  a  Princesse 
discended  from  the  race  of  so  many  noble  kings.     She  sayd  no  more,  but  fell  downe 
dead  hard  by  the  bed.     Some  report  that  this  Aspicke  was  brought  vnto  her  in  the 
basket  with  figs,  &  that  she  had  commaunded  them  to  hide  it  vnder  the  figge  leaues, 
that  when  she  should  thinke  to  take  out  the  figges,  the  Aspicke  should  bite  her  before 
she  should  see  her :  howbeit,  that  when  she  would  haue  taken  away  the  leaues  for 
the  figges,  she  perceiued  it,  and  sayd,  art  thou  here  then  ?    And  so,  her  arme  being 
naked,  she  put  it  to  the  Aspicke  to  be  bitten.     Other  say  againe,  she  kept  it  in  a 
boxe,  and  that  she  did  pricke  and  thrust  it  with  a  spindle  of  gold,  so  that  the  Aspicke 
being  angerd  withall,  lept  out  with  great  furie,  and  bit  her  in  the  arme.     Howbeit 
few  can  tell  the  troth.     For  they  report  also,  that  she  had  hidden  poyson  in  a  hollow 
raser  which  she  caried  in  the  haire  of  her  head  :  and  yet  was  there  no  marke  seene 
of  her  body,  or  any  signe  discerned  that  she  was  poysoned,  neither  also  did  they  finde 
this  serpent  in  her  tombe.     But  it  was  reported  onely,  that  there  were  seene  certaine 
fresh  steppes  or  trackes  where  it  had  gone,  on  the  tombe  side  toward  the  sea,  and 
specially  by  the  doore  side.     Some  say  also,  that  they  found  two  litle  pretie  bytings 
in  her  anne,  scant  to  be  discerned :  the  which  it  seemeth  Otsar  him- 
selfe gaue  credit  vnto,  because  in  his  triumphe  he  caried  Cleopatraes    v  ii     99 
image,  with  an  Aspicke  byting  of  her  arme.    And  thus  goeth  the 
report  of  her  death.     Now  Casar^  though  he  was  maruellous  sory     v,  u,  429. 
for  the  death  of  Cleopatra^  yet  he  wondred  at  her  noble  minde  and 
courage,  and  therefore  commaunded  she  should  be  nobly  buried,  and  layed  by 
Antoniui :  and  willed  also  that  her  two  women  should  haue  honorable  buriall. 
Cleopatra  dyed  being  eight  and  thirtie  yeare  old,  after  she  had  raigned  two  and 
twenty  yeares,  and  gouemed  aboue  foureteen  of  them  with  Antonius,     And  for 
AntoniuSf  some  say  that  he  lined  three  and  fiftie  yeares :  and  others  say,  six  and 
fiftie.  

DRYDEN 

ALL  FOR  LOVE :  I  OR,  The  j  World  well  Lost.  |  A  |  TRAGEDY,  |  As  it  is  Adled 
at  the  I  Theatre- Royal  \  \  And  Written  in  Imitation  o(  Shakespeare' s  Stile.  | 
By  John  Dry  den.  Servant  to  His  Majesty. 

Facile  est  verbum  aliquod  ardens  (ut  ita  dicam)  nctare :  idque  restinctis 

animorum  incendiis  irridere.     Cicero. 

In  the  Savoy  :  |  Printed  by  Tho.  Newcomb,  for  Henry  Herringman^  at  the  Blew 
An-  I  chor  in  the  Lower  Walk  of  the  New-Exchange,     1678, 


^lO  APPENDIX 


PREFACE. 


The  death  of  Anthony  and  Cleopatra^  is  a  Subject  which  has  been  treated  by  the 
greatest  Wits  of  our  Nation ,  after  Shakespeare ;  and  by  all  so  variously,  that  their 
example  has  given  me  the  confidence  to  try  my  self  in  this  Bowe  of  Ulysses  amongst 
the  Crowd  of  Sutors  ;  and,  withal,  to  take  my  own  measures,  in  aiming  at  the  Mark. 
I  doubt  not  but  the  same  Motive  has  prevailed  with  all  of  us  in  this  attempt ;  I  mean 
the  excellency  of  the  Moral :  for  the  chief  persons  represented,  were  famous  patterns 
^^jqI  unlawful  love  ;  and  their  end  accordingly  was  unfortunate.  All  reasonable  men 
have  long  since  concluded.  That  the  lieroe  of  the  Poem,  ought  not  to  be  a  character 
of  perfect  Virtue,  for,  then,  he  could  not,  without  injustice,  be  made  unhappy ;  nor 
yet  altogether  wicked,  because  he  could  not  then  be  pitied :  I  have  therefore  steer'd 
the  middle  course ;  and  have  drawn  the  character  of  Anthony  as  favourably  as  Plu- 
tarch, Appian,  and  Dion  Cassius  wou'd  give  me  leave  :  the  like  I  have  obscnr'd  in 
Cleopatra.  That  which  is  wanting  to  work  up  the  pity  to  a  greater  heighth,  was  not 
afforded  me  by  the  story :  for  the  crimes  of  love  which  they  both  committed,  were  not 
"^casion'd  by  any  necessity,  or  fatal  ignorance,  but  were  wholly  voluntary;  since  our 
passions  are,  or  ought  to  be,  within  our  power.  The  Fabrick  of  the  Play  is  r^ular 
enough,  as  to  the  inferior  parts  of  it ;  and  the  Unities  of  Time,  Place  and  Action, 
more  exactly  observed,  than,  perhaps,  the  English  Theater  requires.  Particularly, 
the  Action  is  so  much  one,  that  it  is  the  only  of  the  kind  without  Episode,  or  Under- 
plot ;  every  Scene  in  the  Tragedy  conducing  to  the  main  design,  and  every  Act  con- 
cluding with  a  turn  of  it.  The  greatest  errour  in  the  contrivance  seems  to  be  in  the 
person  of  Octavia  :  For,  though  I  might  use  the  priviledge  of  a  Poet,  to  introduce 
her  into  Alexandria,  yet  I  had  not  enough  considered,  that  the  compassion  she  mov'd 
to  her  self  and  children,  was  destructive  to  that  which  I  reserved  for  Anthony  and 
Cleopatra  ;  whose  mutual  love  being  founded  upon  vice,  must  lessen  the  favour  of 
the  Audience  to  them,  when  Virtue  and  Innocence  were  oppressed  by  it.  And, 
though  I  justified  Anthony  in  some  measure,  by  making  Octavia* s  departure,  to  pro- 
ceed wholly  from  her  self ;  yet  the  force  of  the  first  Machine  still  remain'd ;  and  the 
dividing  of  pity,  like  the  cutting  of  a  River  into  many  Channels,  abated  the  strength 
of  the  natural  stream.  But  this  is  an  Objection  which  none  of  my  Critiques  have 
urged  against  me ;  and  therefore  I  might  have  let  it  pass,  if  I  could  have  resolv'd  to 
have  been  partial  to  my  self.  The  faults  my  Enemies  have  found,  are  rather  cavils 
concerning  little,  and  not  essential  Decencies ;  which  a  Master  of  the  Ceremonies 
may  decide  betwixt  us.  The  French  Poets,  I  confess,  are  strict  Observers  of  these 
Punctilio's :  They  would  not,  for  example,  have  suffered  Cleopatra  and  Octavia  to 
have  met ;  or  if  they  had  met,  there  must  only  have  pass'd  betwixt  them  some  cold 
civilities,  but  no  eagerness  of  repartee,  for  fear  of  offending  against  the  greatness  of 
their  Characters,  and  the  modesty  of  their  Sex.  This  Objection  I  foresaw,  and  at  the 
same  time  contemned  :  for  I  judged  it  both  natural  and  probable,  that  Octauia,  proud 
of  her  new-gain'  d  Conquest,  would  search  out  Cleopatra  to  triumph  over  her ;  and 
that  Cleopatra,  thus  attacqu'd,  was  not  of  a  spirit  to  shun  the  encounter :  and  'tis 
not  unlikely,  that  two  exasperated  Rivals  should  use  such  Satyre  as  I  have  put  into 
their  mouths  ;  for  after  all,  though  the  one  were  a  Roman,  and  the  other  a  Queen, 
they  were  both  Women.  .  .  . 

In  my  Stile  I  have  profess' d  to  imitate  the  Divine  Shakespeare ;  which  that  I 
might  perform  more  freely,  I  have  disincumber'd  my  self  from  Rhjrme.  Not  that  I 
condemn  my  former  way,  but  that  this  is  more  proper  to  my  present  purpose.    I  hope 


DRYDEN—ALL  FOR  LOVE 


411 


I  need  not  to  explain  myself,  that  I  have  not  Copy'd  my  Author  servilely :  Words 
and  Phrases  must  of  necessity  receive  a  change  in  succeeding  Ages  :  but  'tis  almost 
a  Miracle  that  much  of  his  Language  remains  so  pure ;  and  that  he  who  began  Dra- 
matique  Poetry  amongst  us,  untaught  by  any,  and,  as  Ben  Johnson  tells  us,  without 
Learning,  should  by  the  force  of  his  own  Genius  perform  so  much,  that  in  a  manner 
he  has  left  no  praise  for  any  who  come  after  him.  The  occasion  is  fair,  and  the  sub- 
ject would  be  pleasant  to  handle  the  difference  of  Stiles  betwixt  him  and  Fletcher^ 
and  wherein,  and  how  far  they  are  both  to  be  imitated.  But  since  I  must  not  be 
over-confident  of  my  own  performance  after  him,  it  will  be  prudence  in  me  to  be 
silent  Yet  I  hope  I  may  affirm,  and  without  vanity,  that  by  imitating  him,  I  have 
excell'd  my  self  throughout  the  Play;  and  particularly,  that  I  prefer  the  Scene 
betwixt  Anthony  and  Ventidius  in  the  first  Act,  to  any  thing  which  I  have  written 
in  this  kind. 


Prologue. 

What  Flocks  of  Critiques  hover  here  to  day. 

As  Vultures  wait  on  Armies  for  their  Prey, 

All  gaping  for  the  Carcass  of  a  Play  ! 

V^th  Croaking  Notes  they  bode  some  dire  event ; 

And  follow  dying  Poets  by  the  scent. 

Ours  gives  himself  for  gone ;  y'have  watch'd  your  time  ! 

He  fights  this  day  unarm'd ;  without  his  Rhyme. 

And  brings  a  Tale  which  often  has  been  told  ; 

As  sad  as  Dido's ;  and  almost  as  old. 

His  Heroe,  whom  you  Wits  his  Bully  call. 

Bates  of  his  mettle ;  and  scarce  rants  at  all ; 

He's  somewhat  lewd ;    but  a  well-meaning  mind ; 

Weeps  much ;  fights  little  \  but  is  wond'rous  kind. 

In  short,  a  Pattern,  and  Companion  fit. 

For  all  the  keeping  iTonyes  of  the  Pit 

I  cou'd  name  more  ;  a  Wife  and  Mistress  too  ; 

Both  (to  be  plain)  too  good  for  most  of  you  : 

The  Wife  well-natur*d,  and  the  Mistress  true. 
Now,  Poets,  if  your  fame  has  been  his  care  ; 

Allow  him  all  the  candour  you  can  spare. 

A  brave  Man  scorns  to  quarrel  once  a  day ; 

Like  Hectors,  in  at  every  petty  fray. 

Let  those  find  fault  whose  Wit's  so  very  small. 

They've  need  to  show  that  they  can  think  at  all : 
/  Errours  like  Straws  upon  the  surface  flow ; 
V  He  who  would  search  for  Pearls  must  dive  below. 

Fops  may  have  leave  to  level  all  they  can ; 

As  Pigmies  wou'd  be  glad  to  lopp  a  Man. 

Half' Wits  are  Fleas ;  so  little  and  so  light ; 

We  scarce  cou'd  know  they  live,  but  that  they  bite. 

But,  as  the  Rich,  when  tir'd  with  daily  Feasts, 

For  change,  become  their  next  poor  Tenants  Chests ; 

Drink  hearty  Draughts  of  Ale,  from  plain  brown  Bowls, 

And  snatch  the  homely  Rasher  from  the  Coals : 


} 


1 


412 


APPENDIX 

So  you,  retiring  from  much  better  Cheer, 
For  once,  may  venture  to  do  penance  here. 
And  since  that  plenteous  Autu^m  now  is  past. 
Whose  Grapes  and  Peaches  have  Indulged  your  taste. 
Take  in  good  part  from  our  poor  Poets  boord, 
Such  rivell'd  Fruits  as  Winter  can  afford. 

Persons  Represented, 

By 

Marc  Anthony^  Mr.  Hart, 

VentidiuSf  his  General,  Mr.  Mokun, 

Dollabella,  his  Friend,  Mr.  Clarke. 

AUxaSy  the  Queen's  Eunuch,  Mr.  Goodman, 

Serapion,  Priest  of  /rw,  Mr.  Griffin. 

Another  Priest,  Mr.  Coysk. 

Servants  to  Anthony. 

Cleopatra,  Queen  of  Egypt,  Mrs.  Boutell, 

Octavia^  Anthony's  Wife,  Mrs,  Corey. 

Charmicn,  \ 

J  f  Cleopatra*  s  Maids. 

Anthony's  two  little  Daughters. 

Scene  Alexandria. 

Act.  I.     Scene,  731^  Temple  of  Isis. 

Enter  Serapion,  Myris,  Priests  of  Isis. 
Strap.     Portents,  and  Prodigies,  are  grown  so  frequent. 
That  they  have  lost  their  Name.    Our  fruitful  Nile 
Flow'd  ere  the  wonted  Season,  with  a  Torrent 
So  unexpected,  and  so  wondrous  fierce. 
That  the  wild  Deluge  overtook  the  haste 
Ev'n  of  the  Hinds  that  watch' d  it :  Men  and  Beasts 
Were  bom  above  the  tops  of  Trees,  that  grew 
On  th'  utmost  Margin  of  the  Water-mark. 
Then,  with  so  swift  an  Ebb,  the  Floud  drove  backward 
It  slipt  from  underneath  the  Scaly  Herd  : 
Here  monstrous  Phoca  panted  on  the  Shore ; 
Forsaken  Dolphins  there,  with  their  broad  tails. 
Lay  lashing  the  departing  Waves :  Hard  by  'em, 
Sea- Horses  fioundring  in  the  slimy  mud, 
Toss'd  up  their  heads,  and  dash'd  the  ooze  about  'em. 

Enter  Alezas  behind  them. 

Myr.    Avert  these  Qmens,  Heav'n.  • 

Strap.     Last  night,  between  the  hours  of  Twelve  and  One, 
In  a  lone  Isle  o'th' Temple  while  I  walk'd, 
A  Whirl-wind  rose,  that,  with  a  violent  blast. 
Shook  all  the  Dome  :  the  Doors  around  me  dapt. 
The  Iron  Wicket,  that  defends  the  Vault, 
Where  the  long  Race  of  Ptolomies  is  lay*d. 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  I  413 

Burst  open,  and  disclosed  the  mighty  dead. 
From  out  each  Monument,  in  order  plac'd. 
An  Armed  Ghost  start  up :  the  Boy-King  last 
Reared  his  inglorious  head.    A  peal  of  groans 
Then  follow' d,  and  a  lamentable  voice 
Cry'd  jEgypt  is  no  more.     My  blood  ran  back, 
My  shaking  knees  against  each  other  knocked ; 
On  the  cold  pavement  down  I  fell  intranc'd ; 
And  so  unfinish'd  left  the  horrid  Scene. 

Alexas  (skaunng  himself.)   And,  Dream'd  you  this  ?  or,  Did  invent  the  Story  ? 
To  frighten  our  ^Egyptian  Boys  withal, 
And  train  'em  up  betimes  in  fear  of  Priesthood  ? 

Serap.     My  Lord,  I  saw  you  not. 
Nor  meant  my  words  should  reach  jrour  ears ;  but  what 
I  uttered  was  most  true. 

AUx,     A  foolish  Dream, 
Bred  from  the  fumes  of  indigested  Feasts, 
And  holy  Luxury. 

Serap.     I  know  my  duty : 
This  goes  no  farther. 

AUx.     'Tis  not  fit  it  should. 
Nor  would  the  times  now  bear  it,  were  it  true. 
All  Southern,  from  yon  hills,  the  Roman  Camp 
Hangs  o'er  us  black  and  threatning,  like  a  Storm 
Just  breaking  on  our  heads. 

Serap.     Our  faint  ^Egyptians  pray  for  Antony  ; 
But  in  their  Servile  hearts  they  own  Octavius, 
j  Afyr.     Why  then  does  Antony  dream  out  his  hours. 
And  tempts  not  Fortune  for  a  noble  Day,  ^ 

,  iVhich  might  redeem,  what  AcHum  lost  ? 

Aiex.     He  thinks  'tis  past  recovery,  v^ 

Serap.     Yet  the  Foe 
Seems  not  to  press  the  Siege. 

Alex.     O,  there's  the  wonder. 
I  Mecanas  and  Agrippa^  who  can  most 
'  With  Casar,  are  his  Foes.     His  Wife  Octavia, 
Driv'n  from  his  House,  solicits  her  revenge  ; 
And  Dolabella,  who  was  once  his  Friend, 
Upon  some  private  grudge,  now  seeks  his  mine : 
Yet  still  War  seems  on  either  side  to  sleep. 

Serap,     'Tis  strange  that  Antony ^  for  some  days  past. 
Has  not  beheld  the  face  of  Cleopatra  ; 
But  here,  in  Isis  Temple,  lives  retir*d. 
And  makes  his  heart  a  prey  to  black  despair. 

Alex.     'Tis  true ;  and  we  much  fear  he  hopes  by  absence 
To  cure  his  mind  of  Love. 

Serap.     If  he  be  vanquish' d. 
Or  make  his  peace,  ^Egypt  is  doom'd  to  be 
A  Roman  Province ;  and  our  plenteous  Harvests 


414 


APPENDIX 

Must  then  redeem  the  scarceness  of  their  Soil. 
While  Antony  stood  firm,  our  Alexandria 
Rivaled  proud  Rome  (Dominions  other  Seat) 
And  Fortune  striding,  like  a  vast  Colossus, 
Cou'd  fix  an  equal  foot  of  Empire  here. 

Alex.     Had  I  my  wish,,  these  Tyrants  of  all  Nature 
Who  Lord  it  o'er  Mankind,  should  perish,  perish, 
Each  by  the  others  Sword  ;  but,  since  our  will 
Is  lamely  folIowM  by  our  pow'r,  we  must 
Depend  on  one  ;  with  him  to  rise  or  fall. 

Serap.     How  stands  the  Queen  affected  ? 

Alex,     O,  she  dotes. 
She  dotes,  Serapion,  on  this  vanquished  Man, 
And  winds  her  self  about  his  mighty  ruins. 
Whom  would  she  yet  forsake,  yet  yield  him  up. 
This  hunted  prey,  to  his  pursuers  hands, 

She  might  preserve  us  all ;  but  *tis  in  vain 

This  changes  my  designs,  this  blasts  my  Counsels, 
And  makes  me  use  all  means  to  keep  him  here. 
Whom  I  could  wish  divided  from  her  Arms 
Far  as  the  Earth's  deep  Center.     Well,  you  know 
The  state  of  things  ;  no  more  of  your  ill  Omens, 
And  black  Prognosticks ;  labour  to  confirm 
The  peoples  hearts. 

Enter  Ventidius,  talking  aside  with  a  Gentleman  of  Antony's^ 

Strap,     These  Romans  will  o' rehear  us. 
But,  Who's  that  Stranger?     By  his  Warlike  port. 
His  fierce  demeanor,  and  erected  look, 
He's  of  no  vulgar  note. 

Alex,     O,  'tis  Ventidius, 
Our  Emp'rors  great  Lieutenant  in  the  East, 
Who  first  show'd  Rome  that  Parthia  could  be  conquer'd. 
When  Antony  retum'd  from  Syria  last. 
He  left  this  Man  to  guard  the  Roman  Frontiers. 

Serap,     You  seem  to  know  him  well. 

Alex,     Too  well.     I  saw  him  in  Cilicia  first. 
When  Cleopatra  there  met  Antony  : 
A  mortal  he  was  to  us,  and  j^gypt. 
But,  let  me  witness  to  the  worth  I  hate, 
A  braver  Roman  never  drew  a  Sword. 
Firm  to  his  Prince  ;  but,  as  a  friend,  not  slave. 
He  ne'r  was  of  his  pleasures  ;  but  presides 
O're  all  his  cooler  hours  and  morning  counsels : 
In  short,  the  plainness,  fierceness,  rugged  virtue 
Of  an  old  true-stampt  Roman  lives  in  him. 
His  coming  bodes  I  know  not  what  of  ill 
To  our  affairs.     Withdraw,  to  mark  him  better ; 
And  I'll  acquaint. you  why  I  sought  you  here. 


DRYDEN-^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  I  415 


They  withdraw  to  a  comer 
of  the  Stage;  aif</ Ventidius, 
with  the  other f  comes  for- 
.  wards  to  the  front. 


■^  -r 


And  what's  our  present  work. 

Ventidius.     Not  see  him,  say  yon  ? 
I  say,  I  must,  and  will. 

Gent.     He  has  commanded, 
On  pain  of  death,  none  should  approach  his  presence. 

Ven,     I  bring  him  news  will  raise  his  drooping  Spirits, 
Give  him  new  life. 

Gent.     He  sees  not  Cleopatra. 

Ven.     Would  he  had  never  seen  her. 

Gent.     He  eats  not,  drinks  not,  sleeps  not,  has  no  use 
Of  any  thing,  but  thoc^ht ;  or,  if  he  talks, 
'Tis  to  himself,  and  then  'tis  perfect  raving : 
Then  he  defies  the  World,  and  bids  it  pass ; 
Sometimes  he  gnawes  his  Lip,  and  Curses  loud 
The  Boy  Octavius :  then  he  draws  his  mouth 
Into  a  scornful  smile,  and  cries.  Take  all, 
i^Thc  World's  not  worth  my  care. 

Ven.    Just,  just  his  nature. 
Virtues  his  path ;  but  sometimes  'tis  too  narrow 
;  For  his  vast  Soul ;  and  then  he  starts  out  wide, 
i  And  bounds  into  a  Vice  that  bears  him  far 
;  Ytojn.  his  6rst  course,  and  plunges  him  in  ills  : 
' '  But,  when  his  danger  makes  him  Bnd  his  fault, 
, '  Quick  to  observe,  and  full  of  sharp  remorse, 
V,  He  censures  eagerly  his  own  misdeeds. 
Judging  himself  with  malice  to  himself, 
<  And  not  forgiving  what  as  Man  he  did. 

Because  his  other  parts  are  more  than  Man. 
I  He  must  not  thus  be  lost.  [  Alexas  and  the  Priests  come  forward, 

Alex.     You  have  your  full  Instructions,  now  advance ; 
Proclaim  your  Orders  loudly. 

Scrap.     Romans^  ^Egyptians,  hear  the  Queen's  G)mmand. 
Thus  Cleopatra  bids.  Let  Labor  cease. 
To  Pomp  and  Triumphs  give  this  happy  day. 
That  gave  the  World  a  Lord :  'tis  Antonys. 
Live,  Antony ;  and  Cleopatra  live. 
Be  this  the  general  voice  sent  up  to  Heav'n. 
And  every  publick  place  repeat  this  eccho. 

Ven.  aside.     Fine  Pageantry  I 

Scrap.     Set  out  before  your  doors 
The  Images  of  all  your  sleeping  Fathers, 
With  Laurels  crown' d;  with  Laurels  wreath  your  posts, 
And  strow  with  Flow'rs  the  Pavement ;  Let  the  Priests 
Do  present  Sacrifice  ;  pour  out  the  Wine, 
And  call  the  Gods  to  joyn  with  you  in  gladness. 

Ven.     Curse  on  the  tongue  that  bids  this  general  joy. 
Can  they  be  friends  of  Antony,  who  Revel 
When  Antony^  in  danger?     Hide,  for  shame, 
Vou  Romans,  your  Great  grandsires  Images, 


{ 


4i6  APPENDIX 

For  fear  their  Soals  should  animate  their  Marbles, 
To  blush  at  their  degenerate  Progeny. 

AUx,     A  love  which  knows  no  bounds  to  Antony, 
Would  mark  the  Day  with  honors ;  when  all  Heaven 
Labored  for  him,  when  each  propitious  Star 
Stood  wakeful  in  his  Orb,  to  watch  that  hour. 
And  shed  his  better  infloence.     Her  own  Biith-day 
Our  Queen  neglected,  like  a  vulgar  Fate,* 
That  passed  obscurdy  by. 

Ven,     Would  it  had  slept. 
Divided  £ar  firom  his ;  till  some  remote 
And  future  Age  had  call'd  it  out,  to  ruin 
Some  other  Prince,  not  him. 

AUx.     Your  Emperor, 
Tho  grown  unkind,  would  be  more  gentle,  than 
T*upbraid  my  Queen,  for  loving  him  too  well. 

Ven,     Does  the  mute  Sacrifice  upbraid  the  Priest  ? 
He  knows  him  not  his  Executioner. 
O,  she  has  decked  his  ruin  with  her  love. 
Led  him  in  golden  bands  lo  gaady  slaughter. 
And  made  perditioo  pleasing :    She  has  left  him 
The  blank  of  what  he  was ; 
I  tell  thee,  Ennnch,  she  has  quite  nnmann'd  him : 
Can  any  Roman  see,  and  know  him  now. 
Thus  alter'd  6om  the  Lord  of  half  Mankind, 
Unbent*  unsinew*d,  made  a  Womans  Toy, 
Shrunk  from  the  vast  extent  of  all  his  booors. 
And  ciampt  within  a  comer  of  the  World  ? 
O,  Amtmty  ! 

Thou  Uafe&t  Soldier,  and  thou  best  of  Frieuis ! 
Boonteoos  as  Nature ;  next  to  Nature's  God ! 
Could*  st  thou  bat  make  new  Worlds,  so  vrooldst  thou  give  *em 
As  bounty  were  thy  being.     Rough  in  Battel, 
As  the  first  Komatu^  when  they  went  to  Wju^  ; 
Yet,  after  Yictory,  mote  pitilul« 
Than  all  their  Praying  Vngins  left  at  booK ! 

AUx.    Would  you  could  add  to  those  more  shining  Mrtnes. 
His  truth  to  her  vrho  lof«s  him. 

fm.     WouU  I  could  Dot. 
But,  Whcreibre  waste  I  pcccsms  boors  with  thee  ? 
Thou  ait  her  darling  mischieC  her  chief  Engin, 
Amijmy^^  other  Fate.    Go«  tell  thy  Qoecs. 
IHkiLanix  is  arrived,  to  cod  her  Charms^ 
Let  your  ^-E^yptiim  TimbceLs  play  alooe ; 
Nor  mix  Etfrmiwitr  Sounds  with  ^^tmarn  Trzmpets. 
YoQ  dare  aoC  fight  fcr  Amrjmr .-  go  Play. 
And  keep  your  Cowaids-HoIy-day  in  Temples.  lExemmt  Aler.  So>^ 


*  If  thU  he  tite  pbMMCic  speHing  cf  /^.  it  is  a  br  earlier  exaamle  dua  tff 
given  ia  the  .V.  f  .  P.—Eix 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  I  417 

Re-enter  the  Gentleman  of  M.  Antony. 

2.  Gent,     The  Emperor  approaches,  and  commands, 
On  pain  of  Death,  that  none  presume  to  stay. 

I.  Gent.     I  dare  not  disobey  him.  [Going  tmt  with  the  other » 

Vent.    Well,  I  dare. 
But,  I'll  observe  him  first  unseen,  and  find 
Which  way  his  humour  drives :  The  rest  I'll  venture.  [  Withdraws, 

Enter  Antony,  walking  with  a  disturbed  Motum, 

before  he  speaks, 

Antony.    They  tell  me,  'tis  my  Birth-day,  and  I'll  keep  it 
With  double  pomp  of  sadness. 
'Tis  what  the  day  deserves,  which  gave  me  breath. 
Why  was  I  rais'd  the  Meteor  of  the  World, 
Hung  in  the  Skies,  and  blazing  as  I  traveled. 
Till  all  my  fires  were  spent ;  and  then  cast  downward 
To  be  trod  out  by  Casar  f 

Ven,  aside.     On  my  Soul, 
'Tis  mournful,  wondrous  moumfiil  I 

Anto.     Count  thy  gains.  . 

Now,  Antony^  Would'st  thou  be  bom  for  this  ?| 
Glutton  of  Fortune,  thy  devouring  youth  I 

Has  starved  thy  wanting  Age. 

Ven.     How  sorrow  shakes  him  I  \Asidi, 

So,  now  the  Tempest  tears  him  up  by  th'  Roots, 
And  on  the  ground  extends  the  noble  ruin. 

Ant.  having  thrown  himself  down, 
*  "Lye  there,  thou  shadow  of  an  Emperor ; 
The  place  thou  pressest  on  thy.  Mother  Earth 
Is  all  thy  Empire  now  :  now  it  contains  thee; 
Some  few  days  hence,  and  then  twill  be  too  large, 
When  thou'rt  contracted  in  thy  narrow  Urn, 
Shrunk  to  a  few  cold  Ashes ;  then  Octatna^ 
(For  Cleopatra  will  not  live  to  see  it) 
Octavia  then  will  have  thee  all  her  own, 
And  bear  thee  in  her  Widow' d  hand  to  Casar; 
Casar  will  weep ;  the  Crocodile  will  weep, 
To  see  his  Rival  of  the  Universe 
Lye  still  and  peaceful  there.     I'll  think  no  more  on't 
Give  me  some  Musick  ;"look  that  it  be  sad  : 
I'll  sooth  my  Melancholy,  till  I  swell. 

And  burst  my  self  with  sighing [^ft  Musick, 

'Tis  somewhat  to  my  humour.     Stay,  I  fancy 
I'm  now  tum'd  wild,  a  Commoner  of  Nature ; 
Of  all  forsaken,  and  forsaking  all ; 
Live  in  a  shady  Forrest's  Sylvan  Scene, 
Stretch'd  at  my  length  beneath  some  blasted  Oke ; 

*  The  following  twelve  lines  are  spoken,  I  think,  by  Antony^  not  Ventidim. — 
Eix 

37 


41 8  APPENDIX 

I  lean  my  head  upon  the  Mossy  Bark, 
And  look  just  of  a  piece,  as  I  grew  from  it : 
My  uncomb'd  Locks,  matted  like  Misleto^ 
Hang  o're  my  hoary  Face ;  a  murm'ring  Brook 
Runs  at  my  foot 

Ven.     Methinks  I  fancy 
My  self  there  too. 

Ant,     The  Herd  come  jumping  by  me. 
And  fearless,  quench  their  thirst,  while  I  look  on. 
And  take  me  for  their  fellow-Citizen.* 
More  of  this  Image,  more ;  it  lulls  my  thoughts.  \.^ft  Mustek  again, 

Ven.     I  must  disturb  him ;  I  can  hold  no  longer  [Stamls  before  Aim. 

Ant.  starting  up.     Art  thou  Ventidius  ? 

Ven,     Are  you  Antony  f 
I'm  liker  what  I  was,  than  you  to  him 
I  left  you  last. 

Ant.     I'm  angry. 

Vent.     So  am  I. 

Ant.    I  would  be  private :    Leave  me. 

Ven.     Sir,  I  love  you, 
And  therefore  will  not  leave  you. 

Ant,     Will  not  leave  me  ? 
Where  have  you  learnt  that  Answer  ?     Who  am  I  ? 

Ven.    My  Emperor ;  the  Man  I  love  next  Heaven: 
If  I  said  more,  I  think  'twere  scarce  a  Sin ; 
Y'are  all  that's  good,  and  good-like. 

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  b  no  conimon  Deaw, 
I  have  not  wept  this  Forty  year ;  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. 

*  See  As  You  Like  It,  II,  i,  34,  et  seq. — Ed. 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  I  419 

Vtn,    Emperor. 

Ant,     Emperor  I     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,  AcHum!    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 

Ven,     Out  with  it ;  give  it  vent 

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

Ven,     So  has  Julius  done. 

Ant,     Thou  favour' St  me,  and  speak' st  not  half  tfaoa  think' st ; 
For  Julius  fought  it  out,  and  lost  it  fairly : 
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  thee  leave. 
I  know  thou  cam'st  prepared  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  bom 
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  tum'd  her  loose ;  yet  still  she  came  again. 
My  careless  dayes,  and  my  luxurious  nights, 
At  length  have  wear/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 :  Ft'ythee  curse  me. 

Ven.     No. 

Ant.     Why? 


f./ 


420 


APPENDIX 

Ven.    Yon  are  too  sensible  already 
Of  what  y'have  done,  too  conscious  of  your  failings. 
And  like  a  Scorpion,  whipt  by  others  first 
1*0  fury,  sting  your  self  in  mad  revenge. 
I  would  bring  Balm,  and  pour  it  in  your  wounds, 
Cure  your  distempered  mind,  and  heal  your  fortunes. 

Ant,     I  know  thou  would' St. 

Ven,     I  wiU. 

Ant.     Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha. 

Ven,     You  laugh. 

Ant,     I  do,  to  see  officious  love 
Give  Cordials  to  the  dead. 

Vtn,     You  would  be  lost  then  ? 

Ant,     I  am. 

Ven,     I  say,  you  are  not     Try  your  fortune. 

Ant,    I  have,  to  th*  utmost  •  Dost  thou  think  me  desperatet 
Without  just  cause  ?    No,  when  I  found  all  lost 
Beyond  repair,  I  hid  me  from  the  World, 
And  learnt  to  scorn  it  here ;  which  now  I  do 
So  heartily,  I  think  it  is  not  worth 
The  cost  of  keeping. 

Ven,     Casar  thinks  not  so : 
He*l  thank  you  for  the  gift  he  could  not  take. 
You  would  be  kill'd,  like  Tuliy,  would  you  ?  do. 
Hold  out  your  Throat  to  Qesar,  and  dye  tamely. 

Ant.    No,  I  can  kill  my  self ;  and  so  resolve. 

Ven,    I  can  dy  with  you  too,  when  time  shall  serve; 
But  Fortune  calls  upon  us  now  to  live, 
To  fight,  to  Conquer. 

Ant.     Sure  thou  Dream*  st,  Ventidius, 

Ven.    No ;  'tis  you  Dream ;  you  sleep  away  your  houia 
In  desperate  sloth,  miscall'd  Phylosophy, 
I  Up,  up,  for  Honor*  s  sake ;  twelve  Legions  wait  you. 
And  long  to  call  you  Chief:  by  painful  journeys, 
I  led  'em,  patient,  both  of  heat  and  hunger, 
Down  from  the  Parthian  Marches,  to  the  NiU, 
'Twill  do  you  good  to  see  their  Sun-burnt  faces. 
Their  skared  cheeks,  and  chopt  hands ;  there's  virtue  in  'em, 
They'l  sell  those  mangled  limbs  at  dearer  rates 
Than  yon  trim  Bands  can  buy. 

Ant,     Where  left  you  them  ? 

Ven.     I  said,  in  lower  Syria, 

Ant.     Bring  'em  hither; 
There  may  be  life  in  these. 

Ven,     They  will  not  come. 

Ant.     Why  did'st  thou  mock  my  hopes  with  promis'd  aids 
To  double  my  despair  ?     They'r  mutinous. 

Ven.    Most  firm  and  loyal. 

Ant.    Yet  they  will  not  march 


DRYDEN—ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  I  421 

To  succor  me.     Oh  trifler ! 

Ven.    They  petition 
You  would  make  hast  to  head  'em. 

Ant,     I'm  besieg'd. 

Ven.    There's  but  one  way  shut  up :    How  came  I  hither? 

Ant,     I  will  not  stir. 

Ven,     They  would  perhaps  desire 
A  better  reason. 

Ant.    I  have  never  us'd 
My  Soldiers  to  demand  a  reason  of 
My  actions.     Why  did  they  refuse  to  March  ? 

Ven,    They  said  they  would  not  fight  for  Cleifpatra, 

Ant,     What  was't  they  said  ? 

Ven,     They  said,  they  would  not  fight  for  Cleopatra 
Why  should  they  fight  indeed,  to  make  her  Conquer, 
And  make  you  more  a  Slave  ?  to  gain  you  Kingdoms, 
Which,  for  a  kiss,  at  your  next  midnight  Feast, 
You'l  sell  to  her?  then  she  new  names  her  Jewels, 
And  calls  this  Diamond  such  or  such  a  Tax, 
Each  Pendant  in  her  ear  shall  be  a  Province. 

Ant,     VentidiuSf  I  allow  your  Tongue  free  licence 
On  all  my  other  faults;  but,  on  your  life, 
No  word  of  Cleopatra  :  She  deserves 
More  World's  than  I  can  lose. 

Ven,    Behold,  you  Powers, 
To  whom  you  have  intrusted  Humankind ; 
See  Europe,  AfrUk,  Asia  put  in  ballance. 
And  all  weigh'd  down  by  one  light  worthless  Woman  I 
I  think  the  gods  are  Antony  %,  and  give 
Like  Prodigals,  this  neather  World  away, 
To  none  but  wastful  hands. 

Ant,     You  grow  presumptuous. 

Ven,    I  take  the  priviledge  of  plain  love  to  speak. 

Ant,     Plain  love  I  plain  arrogance,  plain  insolence : 
Thy  Men  are  Cowards ;  thou,  an  envious  Traitor ; 
Who,  under  seeming  honesty,  hast  vented 
The  burden  of  thy  rank  o'reflowing  Gall. 

0  that  thou  wert  my  equal ;  great  in  Arms 
As  the  first  Orsar  was,  that  I  might  kill  thee 
Without  a  Stain  to  Honor ! 

Ven,     You  may  kill  me ; 
You  have  done  more  already,  call'd  me  Traitor. 

Ant,     Art  thou  not  one  ? 

Ven,     For  showing  you  your  self. 
Which  none  else  durst  have  done ;  but  had  I  been 
That  name,  which  I  disdain  to  speak  again, 

1  needed  not  have  sought  your  abject  fortunes. 
Come  to  partake  your  fate,  to  dye  with  you, 
What  hindred  me  t'have  led  my  Conqu'ring  Eagles 


422 


APPENDIX 

To  fill  Octavius's  Bands?     I  could  have  been 
A  Traitor  then,  a  glorious  happy  Traitor, 
And  not  have  been  so  call'd. 

Ant,     Forgive  me,  Soldier : 
I've  been  too  passionate. 

Ven.    You  thought  me  false ; 
Thought  my  old  age  betray* d  you :  kill  me,  Sir; 
Pray  kill  me ;  yet  you  need  not,  your  unkindness 
Has  left  your  Sword  no  work. 

Ant,     I  did  not  think  so ; 
I  said  it  in  my  rage :  pT'3rthee  forgive  me : 
Why  did' St  thou  tempt  my  anger,  by  discovery 
Of  what  I  would  not  hear  ? 

Ven,    No  Prince  but  you 
Could  merit  that  sincerity  I  usM, 
Nor  durst  another  Man  have  ventured  it ; 
But  you,  ere  Love  misled  your  wandring  eyes. 
Were  sure  the  chief  and  best  of  Human  Race, 
Fram'd  in  the  very  pride  and  boast  of  Nature, 
So  perfect,  that  the  gods  who  form'd  you  wonder*  d 
At  their  own  skill,  and  cry'd,  A  lucky  hit 
Has  mended  our  design.    Their  envy  hindred. 
Else  you  had  been  immortal,  and  a  pattern, 
When  Heav'n  would  work  for  ostentation  sake. 
To  copy  out  again. 

Ant,     But  CUopatra 

Go  on ;  for  I  can  bear  it  now. 

Ven,  .  No  more. 

Ant,  I  Thou  dar'st  not  trust  my  Passion  ;  but  thou  may'st : 
Thou  only  lov'st ;  the  rest  have  flatter*  d  me. 

Ven,     Heav'n*  s  blessing  on  your  heart,  for  that  kind  word. 
May  I  believe  you  love  me  ?  speak  again. 

Ant,     Indeed  I  do.     Speak  this,  and  this,  and  this.  [,^^f'^SP'^^ 

Thy  praises  were  unjust;  but,  I'll  deserve  *em, 
I  And  jtt  mend  all.     Do  with  me  what  thou  wilt ; 
Lead  me  to  victory,  thou  know'st  the  way. 

Ven,     And,  Will  you  leave  this 

Ant.     IVythee  do  not  curse  her, 
I  And  I  will  leave  her ;  though,  Heav'n  knows^  I  love 
'  Beyond  Life,  Conquest,  Empire ;  all,  but  Honor : 
But  I  will  leave  her. 

Ven,     That's  my  Royal  Master. 
And,  Shall  we  fight? 

Ant,     I  warrant  thee,  old  Soldier, 
Thou  shalt  behold  me  once  again  in  Icon, 
And  at  the  head  of  our  old  Troops,  that  beat 
The  PartAians,  cry  aloud.  Come  follow  me. 

Ven,    O  now  I  hear  my  Emperor  I  in  that  word 
Oetavim  feVL    Gods,  let  me  see  that  day, 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  II  423 

And,  if  I  have  ten  years  behind,  take  all ; 
1*11  thank  you  for  th'exchange. 

Ani,     Oh  CUopatra  ! 

Ven,     Again  ? 

Ant.    I've  done :  in  that  last  sigh,  she  went. 
Cctsar  shall  know  what  'tis  to  force  a  Lover 
From  all  he  holds  most  dear. 

Ven,     Methinks  you  breath 
Another  Soul :    Your  looks  are  more  Divine  ; 
You  speak  a  Heroe,  and  you  move  a  God. 

Ant,     O,  thou  hast  fir'd  me  ;  my  SouPs  up  in  Arms, 
And  Mans  each  part  about  me :  once  again. 
That  noble  eagerness  of  6ght  has  seized  me ; 
That  eagerness,  with  which  I  darted  upward 
To  Cassius^s  Camp :    In  vain  the  steepy  Hill, 
Oppos'd  my  way;  in  vain  a  War  of  Speares 
Sung  round  my  head ;  and  planted  all  my  shield : 
I  won  the  Trenches,  while  my  formost  Men 
Lag'd  on  the  Plain  below. 

Vtn.    Ye  Gods,  ye  Gods, 
For  such  another  hour. 

Ant,     Come  on,  My  Soldier ! 
Our  hearts  and  arms  are  still  the  same :    I  long 
Once  more  to  meet  our  foes ;  that  Thou  and  I, 
Like  Time  and  Death,  marching  before  our  Troops, 
May  taste  fate  to  'em  ;  Mowe  'em  out  a  passage, 
And,  entring  where  the  foremost  Squadrons  yield. 
Begin  the  noble  Harvest  of  the  Field.  [Exeumi, 


\ 


Act.  II. 

Cleopatra,  Iras,  and  Alexas, 

Cleo,    What  shall  I  do,  or  whither  shall  I  turn  ? 
Ventidius  has  o'rcome,  and  he  will  go. 

Alex.     He  goes  to  fight  for  you. 

Cleo.     Then  he  wou'd  see  me,  ere  he  went  to  fight : 
Flatter  me  not :  if  once  he  goes,  he's  lost : 
And  all  my  hopes  destroy' d. 

Alex,     Does  this  weak  passion 
Become  a  Mighty  Queen  ? 

Cleo.     I  am  no  Queen  ; 
Is  this  to  be  a  Queen,  to  be  besieg'd 
By  yon  insulting  Roman  ;  and  to  wait 
Each  hour  the  Victor's  Chain  ?    These  ills  are  small ; 
For  Antony  is  lost,  and  I  can  mourn 
For  nothing  else  but  him.     Now  come,  Octavius, 
I  have  no  more  to  lose ;  prepare  thy  Bands ; 
I'm  fit  to  be  a  Captive :    Antony 
Has  taught  my  mind  the  fortune  of  a  Slave. 
)    Iras.    Call  Reason  to  assist  you. 


424 


APPENDIX 

Cleo.     I  have  none. 
And  none  would  have  :  my  Love's  a  noble  madness, 
Which  shows  the  cause  deserved  it     Moderate  sorrow 
Fits  vulgar  Love ;  and  for  a  vulgar  Man : 
But  I  have  lov'd  with  such  transcendent  passion, 
I  soard,  at  first,  quite  out  of  Reasons  view, 

And  now  am  lost  above  it No,  I'm  proud 

'Tis  thus :  would  Antony  could  see  me  now  ; 

Think  you  he  would  not  sigh  ?  though  he  must  leave  me. 

Sure  he  would  sigh ;  for  he  is  noble-natur'd, 

And  bears  a  tender  heart :    I  know  him  well. 

Ah,  no,  I  know  him  not ;  I  knew  him  once. 

But  now  'tis  past. 

Iras,     Let  it  be  past  with  3rou  : 
Forget  him.  Madam, 

Cleo,     Never,  never,  Iras, 
He  once  was  mine;  and  once,  though  now  'tis  gone. 
Leaves  a  faint  Image  of  possession  still. 

Alex.     Think  him  unconstant,  cruel,  and  ungrateful. 

Cleo,     I  cannot :  if  I  could,  those  thoughts  were  vain ; 
Faithless,  ungrateful,  cruel,  though  he  be, 

I  still  must  love  him.  Enter  Channioa. 

Now,  What  news  my  Charmion  ? 
Will  he  be  kind  ?  and.  Will  he  not  forsake  me  ? 
Am  I  to  live,  or  dye  ?  nay.  Do  I  live  ? 
Or  am  I  dead  ?  for,  when  he  gave  his  answer. 
Fate  took  the  word,  and  then  I  liv'd,  or  dy'd. 

Char,     I  found  him,  Madam 

Cleo,     A  long  Speech  preparing  ? 
If  thou  bring*  st  comfort,  hast[e],  and  give  it  me ; 
For  never  was  more  need. 

Iras,     I  know  he  loves  you. 

Cleo,     Had  he  been  kind,  her  eyes  had  told  me  so, 
Before  her  tongue  could  speak  it :  now  she  studies, 
.To  soften  what  he  said  ;  but  give  me  death. 
Just  as  he  sent  it,  Charmion^  undisguis'd, 
I  And  in  the  words  he  spoke. 

Char,     I  found  him  then 
Incompass'd  round,  I  think,  with  Iron  Statues, 
So  mute,  so  motionless  his  Soldiers  stood. 
While  awfully  he  cast  his  eyes  about. 
And  ev'ry  Leaders  hopes  or  fears  survey*  d  : 
Methought  he  look'd  resolv'd,  and  yet  not  pleas' d. 
When  he  beheld  me  strugling  in  the  croud. 
He  blush' d,  and  bade,  make  way. 

Alex,     There's  comfort  yet. 

Char,      Ventidius  fixt  his  eyes  upon  my  passage. 
Severely,  as  he  meant  to  frown  roe  back, 
And  sullenly  gave  place :  I  told  my  message, 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  II  425 

Just  as  you  gave  it,  broken  and  disordered  ; 

I  numbred  in  it  all  your  sighs  and  tears, 

And  while  I  mov'd  your  pitiful  request. 

That  you  but  only  beg^d  a  last  farewel, 

He  fetch' d  an  inward  groan,  and  ev'ry  time 

I  nam*d  3rou,  sigh*d,  as  if  his  heart  were  breaking. 

But  shun'd  my  eyes,  and  guiltily  look'd  down ; 

He  seem'd  not  now  that  awful  Antony 

Who  shook  an  Arm'd  Assembly  with  his  Nod, 

But  making  show  as  he  would  rub  his  eyes, 

Disguis*d  and  blotted  out  a  falling  tear. 

Cleop.    Did  he  then  weep  ?  and,  Was  I  worth  a  tear  ? 
If  what  thou  hast  to  say  be  not  as  pleasing, 
Tell  me  no  more,  but  let  me  dye  contented. 

Char,    He  bid  me  say,  He  knew  himself  so  well. 
He  could  deny  you  nothing,  if  he  saw  you ; 
And  therefore 

CUop,     Thou  would' St  say,  he  wou'd  not  see  me  ? 

Charm,    And  therefore  beg*d  you  not  to  use  a  power, 
Which  he  could  ill  resist ;  yet  he  should  ever 
Respect  you  as  he  ought 

CUo,     Is  that  a  word 
For  Antony  to  use  to  CUopatra  f 
Oh  that  faint  word,  Respect !  how  I  disdain  it  I 
Disdain  my  self,  for  loving  after  it ! 
He  should  have  kept  that  word  for  cold  Octavia. 
Respect  is  for  a  Wife :    Am  I  that  thing, 
That  dull  insipid  lump,  without  desires. 
And  without  pow'r  to  give  'em  ? 

Alex,     You  misjudge; 
You  see  through  Love,  and  that  deludes  your  sight : 
As,  what  is  strait^  seems  crooked  through  the  Water ; 
But  I,  who  bear  my  reason  undisturbM, 
Can  see  this  Antony^  this  dreaded  Man, 
A  fearful  slave,  who  fain  would  run  away, 
And  shuns  his  Master's  eyes:  if  you  pursue  him, 
My  life  on't,  he  still  drags  a  chain  along. 
That  needs  must  clog  his  flight. 

Cleo,    Could  I  believe  thee  I 

Alex,     By  ev'ry  circumstance  I  know  he  Loves. 
True,  he's  hard  prest,  by  Intrest  and  by  Honor  ; 
Yet  he  but  doubts,  and  parlyes,  and  casts  out 
Many  a  long  look  for  succor. 

Cleo,     He  sends  word 
He  fears  to  see  my  face. 

Alex.    And  would  you  more? 
He  shows  his  weakness  who  declines  the  Combat ; 
And  you  must  urge  your  fortune.     Could  he  speak 
More  plainly  ?    To  my  ears,  the  Message  sounds 


426  APPENDIX 

Come  to  my  rescue,  Cleopatra^  come ; 
Come,  free  me  from  Ventidius  ;  from  my  Tyrant : 
See  me,  and  give  me  a  pretence  to  leave  him. 
I  hear  his  Trumpets.    This  way  he  must  pass. 
Please  you,  retire  a  while;  I'll  work  him  first, 
That  he  may  bend  more  easie. 

Cleo.     You  shall  rule  me ; 
But  all,  I  fear,  in  vain.  [Exit  with  Char.  a$ut  Iras. 

AUx,     I  fear  so  too  ; 
Though  I  conceal' d  my  thoughts,  to  make  her  bold  : 
But,  'tis  our  utmost  means,  and  Fate  befriend  it  [  Withdraws. 

Enter  Lictors  with  Fasces :  one  bearing  the  Eagle  :  then  Enter 
Antony  with  Ventidius,  folUndd  by  other  Commanders. 

Ant,     Oetavius  is  the  Minion  of  blind  Chance, 
But  holds  from  Virtue  nothing. 

Ven.     Has  he  courage  ? 

Ant.     But  just  enough  to  season  him  from  Coward. 
O,  'tis  the  coldest  youth  upon  a  Charge, 
The  most  deliberate  fighter !  if  he  ventures 
(As  in  Ilfyria  once  they  say  he  did 
To  storm  a  Town)  'tis  when  he  cannot  chuse. 
When  all  the  World  have  fixt  their  eyes  upon  him; 
And  then  he  lives  on  that  for  seven  years  after. 
But,  at  a  close  revenge  he  never  (ails. 

Ven.     I  heard,  you  challang'd  him. 

Ant.     I  did,  Ventidius. 

What  think' St  thou  was  his  answer?  'twas  so  tame, 

He  said  he  had  more  wayes  than  one  to  dye ;  * 
I  had  not 

Ven.     Poor ! 

Ant.     He  has  more  wayes  than  one  ; 
But  he  would  chuse  'em  all  before  that  one. 

Ven.     He  first  would  chuse  an  Ague,  or  a  Fever : 

Ant.     No :  it  must  be  an  Ague,  not  a  Fever; 
He  has  not  warmth  enough  to  dye  by  that 

Ven.    Or  old  Age,  and  a  Bed. 

Ant,     I,  there's  his  choice. 
He  would  live,  like  a  Lamp,  to  the  last  wink. 
And  crawl  upon  the  utmost  verge  of  life : 
O  Hercutes  I     Why  should  a  Man  like  this, 
Who  dares  not  trust  his  fate  for  one  great  action, 
Be  all  the  care  of  Heav'n?    Why  should  he  Lord  it 
O're  Fourscore  thousand  Men,  of  whom,  each  one 
Is  braver  than  himself? 

Ven.     You  conquer'd  for  him : 
Philippi  knows  it ;  there  you  shar'd  with  him 
That  Empire,  which  your  Sword  made  all  your  own. 

*  See  Anthony  and  Cleopatra^  IV,  i,  7. 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  II  427 


Ant.     Fool  that  I  was,  upon  my  Eagles  Wings  ,  ^ 

I  bore  this  Wren,  till  I  was  tir'd  with  soaring,  . 

And  now  he  mounts  above  me.  j     • 

Good  Heavens,  Is  this,  is  this  the  Man  who  braves  me?  I     \ 
Who  bids  my  age  make  way :  drives  me  before  him,      / 
To  the  World's  ridge,  and  sweeps  me  off  like  rubbish  r 

Ven.    Sir,  we  lose  time  ;  the  Troops  are  mounted  all. 

Ant.    Then  give  the  word  to  March  : 
I  long  to  leave  this  Prison  of  a  Town, 
To  joyn  thy  Legions ;  and,  in  op)en  Field, 
Once  more  to  show  my  face.     Lead,  my  Deliverer.  [Enter  Alex. 

Alex.    Great  Emperor, 
In  mighty  Arms  renown' d  above  Mankind, 
But,  in  soft  pity  to  th'  opprest,  a  God  : 
This  message  sends  the  mournful  Cleopatra 
To  her  departing  Lord. 

Ven.    Smooth  Sycophant  I 

Alex.     A  thousand  wishes,  and  ten  thousand  Prajrers, 
Millions  of  blessings  wait  you  to  the  Wars, 
Millions  of  sighs  and  tears  she  sends  you  too. 
And  would  have  sent 
As  many  dear  embraces  to  your  Arms, 
As  many  parting  -kisses  to  your  Lips ; 
But  those,  she  fears,  have  weary'd  you  already. 

Ven.  aside.    False  Crocodyle ! 

Alex,     And  yet  she  begs  not  now,  you  would  not  leave  her. 
That  were  a  wish  too  mighty  for  her  hopes. 
Too  presuming  for  her  low  Fortune,  and  your  ebbing  love. 
That  were  a  wish  for  her  more  prosperous  dayes, 
Her  blooming  beauty,  and  your  growing  kindness. 

Ant.  aside.    Well,  I  must  Man  it  out;  What  would  the  Qaeen? 

Alex.     First,  to  these  noble  Warriors,  who  attend. 
Your  daring  courage  in  the  Chase  of  Fame, 
(Too  daring,  and  too  dang'rous  for  her  quiet) 
She  humbly  recommends  all  she  holds  dear. 
All  her  own  cares  and  fears,  the  care  of  you. 

Ven.     Yes,  witness  Actium. 

Ant,     Let  him  speak,  Ventidius. 

Alex,     You,  when  his  matchless  valor  bears  him  forward. 
With  ardor  too  Heroick,  on  his  foes 
Fall  down,  as  she  would  do,  before  his  feet ; 
Lye  in  his  way,  and  stop  the  paths  of  Death  ; 
Tell  him,  this  God  is  not  invulnerable. 
That  absent  Cleopatra  bleeds  in  him ; 
And,  that  you  may  remember  her  Petition, 
She  begs  you  wear  these  Trifles,  as  a  pawn. 
Which,  at  your  wisht  return,  she  will  redeem  [Gives  Jewels  to  the 

Cofntnasulers, 
With  all  the  Wealth  of  ^gypt: 


428 


APPENDIX 

This,  to  the  great  Ventidius^  she  presents. 
Whom  she  can  never  count  her  Enemy, 
Because  he  loves  her  Lord. 

Ven,     Tell  her  I'll  none  on't ; 
I'm  not  asham'd  of  honest  Poverty : 
Not  all  the  Diamonds  of  the  East  can  bribe 
Ventidius  from  his  faith.     I  hope  to  see 
These,  and  the  rest  of  all  her  sparkling  store, 
Where  they  shall  more  deservingly  be  placed. 

Ant.    And  who  must  wear  'em  then  ? 

Ven.     The  wrong'd  Octavia. 

Ant.     You  might  have  spar'd  that  word. 

Ven.     And  he  that  Bribe. 

Ant.     But  have  I  no  remembrance  ? 

Alex.    Yes,  a  dear  one : 
Your  slave,  the  Queen 

Ant.  '  My  Mistress. 

Alex.     Then  your  Mistress, 
Your  Mistress  would,  she  sayes,  have  sent  her  Soul, 
But  that  you  had  long  since ;  she  humbly  begs 
This  Ruby  bracelet,  set  with  bleeding  hearts, 
(The  emblems  of  her  own)  may  bind  your  Arme.         [Presenting  a  Breteelet. 

Ven,     Now,  my  best  Lord,  in  Honor's  name,  I  ask  you. 
For  Manhood's  sake,  and  for  your  own  dear  safety. 
Touch  not  these  poyson'd  gifts. 
Infected  by  the  sender,  touch  'em  not, 
Miriads  of  blewest  Plagues  lye  underneath  'em. 
And  more  than  Aconite  has  dipt  the  Silk. 

Ant.     Nay,  now  you  grow  too  C3mical,  VentuH$ts. 
A  Lady's  favors  may  be  worn  with  honor. 
What,  to  refuse  her  Bracelet  I  On  my  Soul, 
When  I  lye  pensive  in  my  Tent  alone, 
'Twill  pass  the  wakeful  hours  of  Winter  nights. 
To  tell  these  pretty  Beads  upon  my  arm, 
To  count  for  every  one  a  soil  embrace, 
A  melting  kiss  at  such  and  such  a  time ; 
And  now  and  then  the  fury  of  her  love. 
When — And  what  harm's  in  this  ? 

Alex.     None,  none  my  Lord; 
But  what's  to  her,  that  now  'tis  past  for  ever. 

Ant.  going  to  tye  it.    We  Soldiers  are  so  aukward ^help  me  tye  it. 

Alex.     In  faith,  my  Lord,  we  Courtiers  too  are  aukward 
In  these  affairs  :  so  are  all  Men  indeed  ; 
Ev'n  I,  who  am  not  one.     But  shall  I  speak  ? 

Ant.     Yes,  freely. 

Alex.     Then,  my  Lord,  fair  hands  alone 
Are  fit  to  tye  it ;  she,  who  sent  it,  can. 

Ven.     Hell,  Death ;  this  Eunuch  Pandar  ruins  you. 
You  will  not  see  her?  [Alexas  whispers  an  Attendant^  who  goes  miL 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  II 

Ant.     But  to  take  my  leave. 

Ven,    Then  I  have  wash' d  an  y£Mu^.    Y'are  undone; 
Y'are  in  the  Toils  ;  y'are  taken;  y'are  destroy* d : 
Her  eyes  do  Otsar's  work. 

Ant.    You  fear  too  soon. 
I'm  constant  to  myself:    I  know  my  strength ; 
And  yet  she  shall  not  think  me  Barbarous,  neither. 
Bom  in  the  depths  of  Africk  :    I'm  a  Roman, 
Bred  to  the  Rules  of  soft  humanity. 
A  guest,  and  kindly  us'd,  should  bid  farewel. 

Ven,     You  do  not  know 
How  weak  you  are  to  her,  how  much  an  Infant ; 
You  are  not  proof  against  a  smile,  or  glance  ; 
A  sigh  will  quite  disarm  you. 

Ant.    See,  she  comes  1 
Now  you  shall  find  your  error.     Gods,  I  thank  you  : 
I  form'd  the  danger  greater  than  it  was, 
And,  now  'tis  near,  'tis  lessen'd. 

Ven.     Mark  the  end  yet 

Enter  Qeopatra,  Charmion  and  Iras. 

Ant.    Well,  Madam,  we  are  met. 

Cleo.     Is  this  a  Meeting  ? 
Then,  we  must  part  ? 

Ant.    We  must. 

Cleo.     Who  sayes  we  must  ? 

Ant.     Our  own  hard  fates. 

Cleo.     We  make  those  Fates  our  seWes. 

Ant.     Yes,  we  have  made  'em ;  we  have  lov'd  each  other 
Into  our  mutual  ruin. 

Cleo.    The  Gods  have  seen  my  Joys  with  envious  eyes ; 
I  have  no  friends  in  Heav'n ;  and  all  the  World, 
(As  'twere  the  bus'ness  of  Mankind  to  part  us) 
Is  arm'd  against  my  Love :  ev'n  you  your  self 
Joyn  with  the  rest ;  you,  you  are  arm'd  against  me. 

Ani.     I  will  be  justifjr'd  in  all  I  do 
To  late  Posterity,  and  therefore  hear  me. 
If  I  mix  a  lye 

With  any  truth,  reproach  me  freely  with  it ; 
Else,  favor  me  with  silence, 

Cleo.    You  command  me. 
And  I  am  dumb : 

Ven.    I  like  this  well :  he  shows  Authority. 

Ant.     That  I  derive  my  ruin 
From  you  alone 

Cleo.     O  Heav'ns !     I  ruin  you ! 

Ant.     You  promts' d  me  your  silence,  and  you  break  it 
Ere  I  have  scarce  begun. 

Cleo.     Well,  I  obey  you. 


429 


430 


APPENDIX 

Ant,    When  I  beheld  ^rou  first,  it  was  in  AEgypt^ 
Ere  Casar  saw  your  Eyes ;  you  gave  me  love, 
And  were  too  young  to  know  it ;  that  I  setled 
Your  Father  in  his  Throne,  was  for  your  sake, 
I  left  th'  acknowledgment  for  time  to  ripen. 
Casar  stept  in,  and  with  a  greedy  hand 
Pluck' d  the  green  fruit,  ere  the  first  blush  of  red. 
Yet  cleaving  to  the  bough.     He  was  my  Lord, 
And  was,  beside,  too  great  for  me  to  rival, 
But,  I  deserv'd  you  first,  though  he  enjojr'd  you 
When,  after,  I  beheld  you  in  Cilicia^ 
An  Enemy  to  Rome^  I  pardon'd  you. 

CUo,     I  clear'd  my  self 

Ant.     Again  you  break  your  Promise. 
I  loVd  you  still,  and  took  your  weak  excuses, 
Took  you  into  my  bosome,  stain'd  by  Casar^ 
And  not  half  mine :  I  went  to  yEgypt  with  you 
And  hid  me  from  the  business  of  the  World, 
Shut  out  enquiring  Nations  firom  my  sight. 
To  give  whole  years  to  you. 

Ven.  aside.     Yes,  to  your  shame  be't  spoken. 

Ant.    How  I  lov'd 
Witness  ye  Dayes  and  Nights,  and  all  your  hours 
That  Danc'd  away  with  Down  upon  your  Feet, 
As  all  your  business  were  to  count  my  passion. 
One  day  past  by,  and  nothing  saw  but  Love ; 
Another  came,  and  still  'twas  only  Love : 
The  Suns  were  weary'd  out  with  looking  on, 
And  I  untyr*d  with  loving. 
I  saw  you  ev'ry  day,  and  all  the  day; 
And  ev'ry  day  was  still  but  as  the  first : 
So  eager  was  I  still  to  see  you  more. 

Vtn.     'Tis  all  too  true. 

Ant.  Fuhfia^  my  Wife,  grew  jealous, 
As  she  indeed  had  reason ;  rais'd  a  War 
In  Italyy  to  call  me  back. 

Ven,     But  yet 
You  went  not 

Ant.     While  within  your  arms  I  lay, 
The  World  fell  mouldring  from  my  hands  each  hour, 
And  left  me  scarce  a  grasp  (I  thank  your  love  for't.) 

Ven,     Well  push'd  :  that  last  was  home. 

Chop.     Yet  may  I  speak  ? 

Ant.     If  I  have  urg'd  a  falshood,  yes ;  else,  not. 
Your  silence  says  I  have  not.     Fidvia  dy'd  ; 
(Pardon,  you  gods,  with  my  unkindness  dy'd) 
To  set  the  World  at  peace,  I  took  Octavia^ 
This  Cesar's  Sister;  in  her  pride  of  youth 
And  flow'r  of  Beauty  did  I  wed  that  Lady, 


DRYDEN-^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  II  431 

Whom  blushing  I  most  praise,  because  I  left  her. 
You  caird  ;  my  Love  obeyed  the  fatal  summons : 
This  raised  the  Roman  Arms ;  the  Cause  was  yours. 
I  would  have  fought  by  Land,  where  I  was  stronger ; 
You  hindred  it :  yet,  when  I  fought  at  Sea, 
Forsook  me  fighting ;  and  (Oh  stain  to  Plonor ! 
Oh  lasting  shame  !)  I  knew  not  that  I  fled ; 
But  fled  to  follow  you. 

Ven,     What  haste  she  made  to  hoist  her  purple  Sails  I 
And,  to  appear  magnificent  in  flight, 
Drew  half  our  strength  away. 

Ant,     All  this  you  causM. 
And,  Would  you  multiply  more  ruins  on  me  ? 
This  honest  Man,  my  best,  my  only  friend. 
Has  gathered  up  the  Shipwrack  of  my  Fortunes  ; 
Twelve  Legions  I  have  left,  my  last  recruits, 
And  you  have  watch' d  the  news,  and  bring  your  eyes 
To  seize  them  too.     If  you  have  ought  to  answer. 
Now  speak,  you  have  free  leave. 

Alex,  aside.     She  stands  confounded  : 
Despair  is  in  her  eyes. 

Ven,     Now  lay  a  Sigh  i'th  way,  to  stop  his  passage : 
Prepare  a  Tear,  and  bid  it  for  his  Legions ; 
'TIS  like  they  shall  be  sold. 

CUo,    How  shall  I  plead  my  cause,  when  you,  my  Judge 
Already  have  condenm'd  me  ?    Shall  I  bring 
The  Love  you  bore  me  for  my  Advocate  ? 
That  now  is  tum'd  against  me,  that  destroys  me ; 
For,  love  once  past,  is,  at  the  best,  forgotten ; 
But  oftner  sours  to  hate :  'twill  please  my  Lord 
To  mine  me,  and  therefore  I'll  be  guilty. 
But,  could  I  once  have  thought  it  would  have  pleas'd  you, 
That  you  would  pry,  with  narrow  searching  eyes 
Into  my  faults,  severe  to  my  destruction. 
And  watching  all  advantages  with  care. 
That  serve  to  make  me  wretched  ?     Speak,  my  Lord, 
For  I  end  here.     Though  I  deserve  this  usage, 
Was  it  like  you  to  give  it  ? 

Ant.    O  you  wrong  me. 
To  think  I  sought  this  parting,  or  desir'd 
To  accuse  you  more  than  what  will  clear  my  self. 
And  justifie  this  breach. 

Cleo.     Thus  low  I  thank  you. 
And,  nnce  my  innocence  will  not  offend, 
I  shall  not  blush  to  own  it 

Ven,     After  this 
I  think  she'll  blush  at  nothing. 

C/eo,    You  seem  gricv'd, 
(And  therein  you  are  kind)  that  Gesar  first 


432 


APPENDIX 

Enjoy*  d  my  Iotc,  though  you  descnr'd  it  better : 
I  grieve  for  that,  my  Lord,  much  more  than  you; 
For,  had  I  first  been  yours,  it  would  have  sav'd 
My  second  choice :    I  never  had  been  his, 
And  ne'r  had  been  but  youis.     But  Casar  first. 
You  say,  possess'd  my  love.    Not  so,  my  Lord : 
He  first  possess'd  my  Person  ;  you  my  Love : 
Quar  lov'd  me  ;  but  I  lov'd  Antony, 
If  I  endur'd  him  after,  'twas  because 
I  judg'd  it  due  to  the  first  name  of  Men ; 
And,  half  constrain' d,  I  gave,  as  to  a  Tyrant, 
What  he  would  take  by  force. 

Ven,     O  Syren  I  Syren  I 
Yet  grant  that  all  the  love  she  boasts  were  tmc^ 
Has  she  not  ruin'd  you  ?    I  still  urge  that. 
The  fatal  consequence. 

Cleo.    The  consequence  indeed, 
For  I  dare  challenge  him,  my  greatest  foe. 
To  say  it  was  design'd :  'tis  true,  I  lov'd  you. 
And  kept  you  far  from  an  uneasie  Wife, 
(Such  Fulvia  was) 
Yes,  but  he'll  say,  3rou  left  Octavia  for  me  ;• 


And,  Can  you  blame  me  to  receive  that  love^ 
Which  quitted  such  desert,  for  worthless  me  ? 
How  often  have  I  wish'd  some  other  Cdsar, 
Great  as  the  first,  and  as  the  second  young. 
Would  court  my  Love  to  be  refus'd  for  you  ! 

Ven.    Words,  words ;  but  AcHum^  Sir,  remember  Adium* 

Cleo,     Ev'n  there,  I  dare  his  malice.     True,  I  Coonsel'd 
To  fight  at  Sea  ;  but,  I  betrajr'd  you  not. 
I  fled ;  but  not  to  the  Enemy.     'Twas  fear; 
Would  I  had  been  a  Man,  not  to  have  fear'd. 
For  none  would  then  have  env3r'd  me  your  friendship. 
Who  envy  me  your  Love. 

Ant.    We're  both  unhappy : 
If  nothing  else,  yet  our  ill  fortune  parts  us. 
Speak  ;  Would  you  have  me  perish,  by  my  stay  ? 

Cleo,    If  as  a  friend  you  ask  my  Judgment,  go ; 
If  as  a  Lover,  stay.     If  you  must  perish  : 
'Tis  a  hard  word ;  but  stay. 

Vtn,     See  now  th'  effects  of  her  so  boasted  love  I 
She  strives  to  drag  you  down  to  mine  with  her : 
But,  could  she  scape  without  you,  oh  how  soon 
Would  she  let  go  her  hold,  and  haste  to  shore. 
And  never  look  behind  I 

Cleo.     Then  judge  my  love  by  this.  \Giving  Antony  a 

Could  I  have  bom 
A  life  or  death,  a  happiness  or  woe 
From  yours  divided,  this  had  giv'n  me  means. 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE.  ACT  II  433 

Ant.     'Sij  Hercules,  the  Writing  of  Ociauius ! 
I  know  it  well ;  'tis  that  Proscribing  hand. 
Young  as  it  was,  that  led  the  way  to  mine. 

And  left  me  but  the  second  place  in  Murder. 

See,  see,  Ventidius !  here  he  offers  AEgypt. 
And  joyns  all  Syria  to  it,  as  a  present. 
So,  in  requital,  she  forsake  my  fortunes. 
And  joyn  her  Arms  with  his. 

Cleo.    And  yet  you  leave  me  I 
You  leave  me,  Anthony ;  and,  yet  I  love  you. 
Indeed  I  do :    I  have  refused  a  Kingdom, 
That's  a  Trifle: 

For  I  could  part  with  life ;  with  any  thing. 
But  onely  you.     O  let  me  dye  but  with  you  I 
Is  that  a  hard  request  ? 

Ant,    Next  living  with  you, 
'Tis  all  that  Heav'n  can  give. 

Alex,  aside.     He  melts ;  We  conquer. 

Cleo.     No :  you  shall  go :  your  Interest  calls  yoa  hence ; 
Yes ;  your  dear  interest  pulls  too  strong,  for  these 

Weak  Armes  to  hold  you  here. [  Takes  his  hand. 

Go ;  leave  me,  Soldier; 

(For  you're  no  more  a  Lover :)  leave  me  dying : 
Push  me  all  pale  and  panting  from  your  bosome. 
And,  when  your  March  begins,  let  one  run  after 
Breathless  almost  for  Joy ;  and  cry,  she's  dead : 
The  Souldiers  shout ;  you  then  perhaps  may  sigh. 
And  muster  all  your  Roman  Gravity ; 
Ventidius  chides ;  and  strait  your  Brow  deares  up. 
As  I  had  never  been. 

Ant.    Gods,  'tis  too  much  ;  too  much  for  Man  to  bear ! 

Cleo.     What  is*t  for  me  then, 
A  weak  forsaken  Woman  ?  and  a  Lover  ? — 
Here  let  me  breathe  my  last :  envy  me  not 
This  minute  in  your  Armes :  I'll  dye  apace  : 
As  fast  as  ere  I  can ;  and  end  your  trouble. 

Ant,    Dye !  Rather  let  me  perish :  loos'nd  Nature 
Leap  from  its  hinges.     Sink  the  props  of  Heav'n, 
And  fall  the  Skyes  to  crush  the  neather  World. 
My  Eyes,  my  Soul ;  my  all ! [Embraces  her, 

Ven.     And  what's  this  Toy 
In  ballance  with  your  fortune.  Honor,  Fame  ? 

Ant.     What  is't,  Venlidius?  it  out- weighs  'em  all; 
Why,  we  have  more  than  conquer'd  Casar  now : 
My  Queen's  not  only  Innocent,  but  Loves  me. 
This,  this  is  she  who  drags  me  down  to  ruin ! 
But,  could  she  scape  without  me,  with  what  haste 
Would  she  let  slip  her  hold,  and  make  to  shore, 
And  never  look  behind  I 

s8 


434  APPENDIX 


Down  on  tlij  kneel*  Bbsphemer  as  dwa  ast. 
And  UK  fioKp^cncs  oc  wiuo^'d  TniMWffOLC 

Vau     rn  ntfacr  dye,  than  take  k.     1¥iil  vm  fo? 

Ami,    Go!  Whkhcr?  gofroaalltbr'scsoelleBt: 
Faidiy  Hooor,  Viitse,  all  good  fkiagi  fionid, 
Tkat  I  sfaoold  go  frooi  ber,  vbo  sets  bv-  kive 
Above  the  pfioe  of  KingdooBS.     Gsre,  too  Gods, 
Give  to  josr  Bcnr,  joox  C^scr^ 
TbB  Rafde  of  a  Gloic  to  IMJ7  vidtal, 
Tbis  G«-gaa  Worid,  aad  pm  ban  cbeajdy  on : 
m  Bot  be  plcss'd  vitb  ;e£S  tbaa  Oafiatrm. 

CU».     Sbe  vboOj  xoan.     Mr  beam's  so  £ill  of  >7, 
T^  I  dkaQ  do  SQBe  vOd  emxvagaaoe 
or  Lore,  in  pobbck  ;  aad  tbe  foofidh  Wodd, 
Wbich  kaovs  aot  tesdcnem,  vi32  dnak  ae  Mjid. 

Vtm.     OWooaea!   Woiks!   Wcaea!  aDtbegods 
Have  Bot  sack  pov^r  of  dcng  good  to  Man, 
As  jvn  of  doing  bax^ 

AmL     Oar  Mea  are  Aia'd. 
U^aar  dbe  Gate  tbat  looks  to  C^imr% 
I  voBld  irveve  tbe  Tiacberr  be 


Ts  c^er  to  letss  beJiofe  I  go; 
Foe,  dQ  tbe  pSeasBics  I  bave  kaovsL  be«  ^nck 
Ob  hj  iiiiiiJImiiii     bov  I  ka^  iar  aaglit ! 
Tbai  balk  ibe  sveca  of  mttBal  lo>«e  bst  tzr, 
Aad  owe  Tznm^  o^ie  Ccvr  [r  i^/]  ve  dye 


Act  IDL 


kreh^  kjL.  tm  Ckapmnx.    OramanB  mmd  Ins 
A  I>amct  if  JE^fpOBB^    Afiertl^ 

AmL     ITbo^ttbcwdic«e«^DlearasvPOBld&Ad 


So  pieaF''d  wab  ibat  sweet  Im^ge,  I  ^niig 
AsdBdded  aB  aor  srengdi  locvarUoir; 

£2e«.    CoBte  to  ibc,  ocBoe  anv  SoUBer,  to 
V  oo^ve  becB  too  knig  arvvr  tram  mv 
8bL  vibeB  1  bave  yen.  itA^  axid  all  sd^  <nm, 
Widi  bRsikeB  amnsms^  aoid  widi 
r*Il  sar^  3MIB  iivre  nnkxad,  and  jMinh^>  yoa. 
And  Biaik  yon  tbs  vida 

AmL    Mr  Bi^jbiM  Tit 

Am.     Tbm  jonuB  ss  ^wH,  mr  X.avt ! 


DRYDEN-^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  III  435 

Where  gasping  Gyants  lay,  cleft  by  my  Sword : 

And  Mountain  tops  par'd  off  each  other  blow, 

To  bury  those  I  slew :  receive  me,  goddess  : 

Let  Casar  spread  his  subtile  Nets,  like  Vulcan, 

In  thy  embraces  I  would  be  beheld 

By  Heav'n  and  Earth  at  once : 

And  make  their  envy  what  they  meant  their  sport. 

Let  those  who  took  us  blush  ;  I  would  love  on 

With  awful  State,  regardless  of  their  frowns. 

As  their  superior  god. 

There's  no  satiety  of  Love,  in  thee  ; 

Enjoy'd,  thou  still  art  new  ;  perpetual  Spring 

Is  in  thy  armes  ;  the  ripen'd  fruit  but  falls. 

And  blossoms  rise  to  fill  its  empty  place ; 

And  I  grow  rich  by  giving. 

Enter  Ventidius,  and  stands  apart, 

Alfx,    O,  now  the  danger's  past,  your  General  comes. 
He  joyns  not  in  your  joys,  nor  minds  your  Triumphs ; 
But,  with  contracted  brows,  looks  frowning  on, 
As  envying  your  Success. 

Ant.     Now,  on  my  Soul,  he  loves  me  ;  truly  loves  me  ; 
He  never  flatter* d  me  in  any  vice. 
But  awes  me  with  his  virtue  :  ev'n  this  minute 
Methinks  he  has  a  right  of  chiding  me. 
Lead  to  the  Temple :    I'll  avoid  his  presence  a 
It  checks  too  strong  upon  me.  j  [Exeunt  the  rni. 

As  Antony  is  goings  Ventidius /m/Zt  him  by  the  Robe, 

Ven,    Emperor. 

Ant,  looking  back,     'Tis  the  old  argument ;  I  pr'ythee  spare  me. 

Ven,     But  this  one  hearing.  Emperor. 

Ant,    Let  go 
My  Robe  ;  or,  by  my  Father  Hercules 

Ven,    By  Hercules  his  Father,  that's  jret  greater, 
I  bring  you  somewhat  you  would  wish  to  know. 

Ant,    Thou  see' St  we  are  observed  ;  attend  me  here. 
And  I'll  return.  [Ejtii. 

Ven.    I'm  waning  in  his  favor,  yet  I  love  him ; 
I  love  this  Man,  who  runs  to  meet  his  mine ; 
And,  sure  the  gods,  like  me,  are  fond  of  him  : 
His  Virtues  lye  so  mingled  with  his  Crimes, 
As  would  confound  their  choice  to  punish  one. 
And  not  reward  the  other. 

Enter  Antony. 
Ant,     We  can  conquer. 
You  see,  without  your  aid. 
We  have  dislodg'd  their  Troops, 
They  look  on  us  at  distance,  and,  like  Curs 
Scap'd  from  the  Lions  paws,  they  bay  far  off. 


436  APPENDIX 

And  lick  their  wounds,  and  fiuntly  threaten  War. 
Flye  thousand  Romam  with  their  laces  upward, 
Lye  breathless  on  the  Plain. 

Ven.     'Tis  well :  and  he 
Who  lost  'em,  could  haye  spar'd  Ten  thousand  more. 
Yet  if,  by  this  advantage,  you  could  gain 
An  easier  Peace,  whMe  Casar  doubts  the  Chance 
Of  Arms! 

Ant,     O  think  not  on't,  VefUidius\ 
The  Boy  pursues  my  ruin,  he'll  no  peace : 
His  malice  is  considerate  in  advantage  ; 
O,  he's  the  coolest  Murderer,  so  stanch. 
He  kills,  and  keeps  his  temi>er. 

Ven,     Have  you  no  friend 
In  all  his  Army,  who  has  power  to  move  him, 
Mecttnas^  or  Agrippa  might  do  much. 

Ant,    They're  both  too  deep  in  Casar^s  interests. 
We'll  work  it  out  by  dint  of  Sword,  or  i>erish. 

Ven.    Fain  I  would  find  some  other. 

Ant.     Thank  thy  love. 
Some  four  or  five  such  Victories  as  this. 
Will  save  thy  farther  pains. 

Ven.    Expect  no  more  ;  Casar  is  on  his  Guard : 
I  know.  Sir,  you  have  conquer'd  against  ods ; 
But  still  you  draw  Supplies  from  one  poor  Town, 
And  of  ^Egyptians :  he  has  all  the  World, 
And,  at  his  back.  Nations  come  pouring  in, 
To  fill  the  gaps  you  make.     Pray  think  again. 

Ant.    Why  dost  thou  drive  me  from  my  self,  to  search 
For  Forreign  aids  ?  to  hunt  my  memory, 
And  range  all  o're  a  waste  and  barren  place 

To  find  a  Friend  ?    The  wretched  have  no  Friends 

Yet  I  had  one,  the  bravest  youth  of  Ronu^ 
Whom  Qtsar  loves  beyond  the  love  of  Women  ; 
He  could  resolve  his  mind,  as  Fire  does  Wax, 
From  that  hard  rugged  Image,  melt  him  down. 
And  mould  him  in  what  softer  form  he  pleas' d. 

Ven.     Him  would  I  see ;  that  man  of  all  the  world : 
Just  such  a  one  we  want. 

Ant,     He  lov'd  me  too, 
I  was  his  Soul ;  he  liv'd  not  but  in  me  : 
We  were  so  clos'd  within  each  others  brests. 
The  rivets  were  not  found  that  join'd  us  first 
That  does  not  reach  us  yet :  we  were  so  mizt. 
As  meeting  streams,  both  to  our  selves  were  lost ; 
We  were  one  mass ;  we  could  not  give  or  take. 
But  from  the  same  ;  for  he  was  I,  I  he. 

Ven.  aside.     He  moves  as  I  would  wish  him. 

Ant.    After  this. 


DRYDEN-^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  III  437 

I  need  not  tell  his  name :  'twas  Dollabella, 

Ven,     He's  now  in  Qtsar's  Camp. 

Ant,     No  matter  where. 
Since  he's  no  longer  mine.     He  took  unkindly 
That  I  forbade  him  CUop€ttra*%  sight ; 
Because  I  fear*d  he  lov'd  her :  he  confest 
He  had  a  warmth,  which,  for  my  sake,  he  stifled ; 
For  'twere  impossible  that  two,  so  one. 
Should  not  have  lov'd  the  same.     When  he  departed, 
He  took  no  leave ;  and  that  confirm'd  my  thoughts. 

Ven,     It  argues  that  he  lov'd  you  more  than  her, 
Else  he  had  staid ;  but  he  perceiv'd  you  jealous. 
And  would  not  grieve  his  friend  :    I  know  he  loves  you. 

Ant,    I  should  have  seen  him  then  ere  now. 

Ven,    Perhaps 
He  has  thus  long  been  laboring  for  your  peace. 

Ant,    Would  he  were  here. 

Ven,     Would  you  believe  he  lov'd  you  ? 
I  read  your  answer  in  your  eyes ;  you  would. 
Not  to  conceal  it  longer,  he  has  sent 
A  Messenger  from  Casar's  Camp,  with  Letters. 

Ant,    Let  him  appear.  [Exit  Ventidins,  and  Re-enttrt 

Ven,    I'll  bring  him  instantly.  immediately  with  Dollabellsu 

Ant,    'Tis  he  himself,  himself,  by  holy  Friendship  I  [Runs  to  em- 

Art  thou  return' d  at  last,  my  better  half?  irace  Aim, 

Come,  give  me  all  my  self. 
Let  me  not  live. 

If  the  young  Bridegroom,  longing  for  his  night, 
Was  ever  half  so  fond. 

DoUa,     I  must  be  silent ;  for  my  Soul  is  busie 
About  a  nobler  work  :  she's  new  come  home. 
Like  a  long-absent  man,  and  wanders  o'er 
Each  room,  a  stranger  to  her  own,  to  look 
If  all  be  safe. 

Ant,    Thou  hast  what's  left  of  me. 
For  I  am  now  so  sunk  from  what  I  was. 
Thou  And' St  me  at  my  lowest  water-mark. 
The  Rivers  that  ran  in,  and  rais'd  my  fortunes. 
Are  all  dry'd  up,  or  take  another  course : 
What  I  have  left  is  from  my  native  Spring ; 
I've  still  a  heart  that  swells,  in  scorn  of  fate. 
And  lifts  me  to  my  banks. 

DoUa,    Still  you  are  Lord  of  all  the  World  to  me. 

Ant,    Why,  then  I  yet  am  so ;  for  thou  art  all. 
If  I  had  any  joy  when  thou  wert  absent, 
I  grudg'd  it  to  my  self;  methought  I  robb'd 
Thee  of  thy  part.     But,  Oh  my  Dollabella  ! 
Thou  hast  beheld  me  other  than  I  am. 
Hast  thou  not  seen  my  morning  Chaihbers  fill'd 


438 


APPENDIX 

With  Scepter*d  Slaves,  who  waited  to  salute  me : 
With  Eastern  Monarchs,  who  forgot  the  Sun, 
To  worship  my  uprising  ?     Menial  Kings 
Ran  coursing  up  and  down  my  Palace-jrard, 
Stood  silent  in  my  presence,  watch'd  my  eyes. 
And,  at  my  least  command,  all  started  out 
Like  Racers  to  the  Goal. 

Dolla.    Slaves  to  your  fortune. 

AtU,     Fortune  is  Casar's  now ;  and  what  am  I  ? 

Ven,    What  you  have  made  your  self ;  I  will  not  flatter. 

Ant,    Is  this  friendly  done  ? 

Dolla.     Yes,  when  his  end  is  so,  I  must  join  with  him  ; 
Indeed  I  must,  and  yet  you  must  not  chide : 
Why  am  I  else  your  friend  ? 

Ant,    Take  heed,  young  man. 
How  thou  upbraid'st  my  love :  the  Queen  has  eyes. 
And  thou  too  hast  a  Soul.     Canst  thou  remember 
When,  sweird  with  hatred,  thou  beheld' st  her  first 
As  accessary  to  thy  Brothers  death  ? 

Dolla.     Spare  my  remembrance ;  'twas  a  guilty  day, 
And  still  the  blush  hangs  here. 

AnL     To  clear  her  self. 
For  sending  him  no  aid,  she  came  from  Egypt. 
Her  Gaily  down  the  Silver  Cydnos  row'd, 
The  Tackling  Silk,  the  Streamers  wav'd  with  Gold, 
The  Gentle  Winds  were  lodg'd  in  Purple  sails : 
Her  Njrmphs,  like  Nereids^  round  her  Couch,  were  plac'd; 
Where  she,  another  Sea-bom  Venus^  lay. 

Dolla.     No  more :  I  would  not  hear  it. 

Ant.     O,  you  must ! 
She  lay,  and  leant  her  cheek  upon  her  hand. 
And  cast  a  look  so  languishingly  sweet. 
As  if,  secure  of  all  beholders  hearts. 
Neglecting  she  could  take  'em :    Boys,  like  Cupids, 
Stood  fanning,  with  their  painted  wings,  the  winds 
That  plaid  about  her  face :  but  if  she  smil'd, 
A  darting  glory  seem'd  to  blaze  abroad  : 
That  mens  desiring  eyes  were  never  weary'd; 
But  hung  upon  the  object :  to  soft  Flutes 
The  Silver  Oars  kept  time  ;  and  while  they  plaid. 
The  hearing  gave  new  pleasure  to  the  sight ; 
And  both  to  thought :  'twas  Heav'n,  or  somewhat  more ; 
For  she  so  charm' d  all  hearts,  that  gazing  crowds 
Stood  panting  on  the  shore,  and  wanted  breath 
To  give  their  welcome  voice. 
Then,  DoUabella^  where  was  then  thy  Soul  ? 
Was  not  thy  fury  quite  disarm' d  with  wonder? 
Didst  thou  not  shrink  behind  me  from  those  eyes. 
And  whisper  in  my  ear,  Oh  tell  her  not 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  III  439 

That  I  accused  her  of  my  Brothers  death  ? 

Dolla,     And  should  my  weakness  be  a  plea  for  yours  ? 
Mine  was  an  age  when  love  might  be  excus'd, 
When  kindly  warmth,  and  when  my  springing  youth 
Made  it  a  debt  to  Nature.     Yours 

Vm.     Speak  boldly. 
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  constrained  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  Casar  I  excuse  you. 

Ant.    O  ye  Gods ! 
Have  I  then  liv'd  to  be  excused  to  Casar  f 

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  mbtook  him ; 
For  Nature  meant  him  for  an  Usurer, 
He*8  fit  indeed  to  buy,  not  conquer  Kingdoms. 

Vm,     Then,  granting  this. 
What  pow'r  was  theirs  who  wrought  so  hard  a  temper 
To  honourable  Terms  I 

Ant,     It  was  my  Dollabella^  or  some  God. 

Dolla.     Nor  I ;  nor  yet  Mecctnas^  nor  Agrippa  : 
They  were  your  Enemies ;  and  I  a  Friend 
Too  weak  alone ;  yet  'twas  a  Romanes  deed. 

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

Ven.     That  task  is  mine, 
And,  Heav'n  thou  know'st  how  pleasing.  [^Exit  Vent. 

Dolla.    You'll  remember 


440  APPENDIX 

To  whom  yon  stand  obliged? 

Ant,    When  I  forget  it. 
Be  thou  unkind,  and  that's  my  greatest  curse. 
My  Queen  shall  thank  him  too. 

DoUa,    I  fear  she  will  not. 

Ant,     But  she  shall  do't :  the  Queen,  my  DoUahella  I 
Hast  thou  not  still  some  grudgings  of  thy  Feyer  ? 

Dolla,    I  would  not  see  her  lost. 

Ant,     When  I  forsake  her, 
Leaye  me,  my  better  Stars ;  for  she  has  truth 
Beyond  her  beauty.     Casar  tempted  her. 
At  no  less  price  than  Kingdoms,  to  betray  me ; 
But  she  resisted  all :  and  yet  thou  chid'st  me 
For  loving  her  too  well.    Could  I  do  so  ? 

Dolia,     Yes,  there's  my  reason. 

^^-^vi/^  Ventidius,  vfith  Octavia,  leading  Axi\aaf% 
two  little  Daughters, 

Ant,     Where  ? Octavia  there !  \Starimg  back. 

Ven,     What,  is  she  poyson  to  you  ?  a  Disease  ? 
Look  on  her,  view  her  well ;  and  those  she  brings : 
Are  they  all  strangers  to  your  eyes  ?  has  Nature 
No  secret  call,  no  whisper  they  are  yours  ? 

Dolla,    For  shame,  my  Lord,  if  not  for  love,  receive  'em 
With  kinder  eyes.     If  you  confess  a  man, 
Meet  'em,  embrace  'em,  bid  'em  welcome  to  you. 
Your  arms  should  open,  eVn  without  your  knowledge. 
To  clasp  'em  in ;  your  feet  should  turn  to  wings. 
To  bear  you  to  'em ;  and  your  eyes  dart  out. 
And  aim  a  kiss  ere  you  could  reach  the  lips. 

Ant,     I  stood  anuue'd  to  think  how  they  came  hither 

Vent,    I  sent  for  'em;  I  brought  'em  in,  unknown 
To  Cleopatra^%  Guards. 

Dolla,    Yet  are  you  cold  ? 

Octav,    Thus  long  I  have  attended  for  my  welcome; 
Which,  as  a  stranger,  sure  I  might  expect. 
Who  am  I  ? 

Ant,     Casar's  Sister. 

Octav,     That's  unkind ! 
Had  I  been  nothing  more  than  Qesar's  Sister, 
Know,  I  had  still  remain'd  in  Casar's  Camp ; 
But  your  Octavia,  your  much  injur*  d  Wife, 
Tho'  banish' d  from  your  Bed,  driv'n  from  your  House, 
In  spight  of  Ccesar'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 : 


/ 
s 


DRYDEN--ALL  FOR  LOVE.  ACT  HI  441 

Your  hand,  my  Lord ;  'tis  mine,  and  I  will  have  it  [  Takit^  hU  kand, 

Vtn,     Do,  take  it,  thou  deserv'st  it 

Dolla,    On  my  Soul, 
And  so  she  does :  she's  neither  too  submissiTe, 
Nor  yet  too  haughty ;  but  so  just  a  mean, 
j  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? 

Ani,    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,  Casar  f  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. 

DoUa,     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  cries,  I'll  tell  my  Brother. 

Octav.     My  hard  fortune 
Subjects  me  still  to  your  unkind  mistakes. 
But  the  Conditions  I  have  brought  are  such 
You  need  not  blush  to  take  :  I  love  your  Honour,  > 
Because  'tis  mine ;  it  never  shall  be  said 
Octavia^s  Husband  was  her  Brothers  Slave. 
Sir,  you  are  free ;  free,  ev*n  from  her  you  loath ; 
For,  tho'  my  Brother  bargains  for  your  love. 
Makes  me  the  price  and  cement  of  your  peace, 
I  have  a  Soul  like  yours ;  I  cannot  take 
Your  love  as  alms,  nor  beg  what  I  deserve. 
I'll  tell  my  Brother  we  are  reconcil'd  ; 
He  shall  draw  back  his  Troops,  and  you  shall  march 
To  rule  the  East :    I  may  be  dropt  at  Athens  ; 
No  matter  where,  I  never  will  complain. 
But  only  keep  the  barren  Name  of  Wife, 
And  rid  you  of  the  trouble. 

Fen.    Was  ever  such  a  strife  of  sullen  Honour ! 
Both  scorn  to  be  oblig'd. 

Do/la.     O,  she  has  toucht  him  in  the  tender* st  part ; 
See  how  he  reddens  with  despight  and  shame 
To  be  out-done  in  Generosity ! 


442 


APPENDIX 

Ven,     See  how  he  winks  !  how  he  dries  up  a  tear. 
That  fain  would  fall  \ 

Ant,     Octavia^  I  have  heard  you,  and  must  praise 
The  greatness  of  your  Soul ; 
But  cannot  yield  to  what  you  have  propos'd : 
For  I  can  ne'er  be  conquei'd  but  by  love ; 
And  you  do  all  for  duty.     You  would  free  me. 
And  would  be  dropt  at  Athens  ;  was't  not  so  ? 

Octav,     It  was,  my  Lord. 

Ant,    Then  I  must  be  oblig'd 
To  one  who  loves  me  not,  who,  to  her  self, 
May  call  me  thankless  and  ungrateful  Man : 
I'll  not  endure  it,  no. 

Ven,     I'm  glad  it  pinches  there. 

Octav,     Would  you  triumph  o*er  poor  Octavia^s  Virtue  ? 
That  pride  was  all  I  had  to  bear  me  up ; 
That  you  might  think  you  ow*d  me  for  your  life. 
And  ow'd  it  to  my  duty,  not  my  love. 
I  have  been  injur* d,  and  my  haughty  Soul 
Could  brook  but  ill  the  Man  who  slights  my  Bed. 

Ant,    Therefore  you  love  me  not. 

Octav,     Therefore,  my  Lord, 
I  should  not  love  you. 

Ant,    Therefore  you  wou'd  leave  me  ? 

Octav,     And  therefore  I  should  leave  you if  I  could. 

Dolla,     Her  Souls  too  great,  after  such  injuries. 
To  say  she  loves  ;  and  yet  she  lets  you  see  it. 
Her  modesty  and  silence  plead  her  cause. 

Ant,     O,  Dolladella,  which  way  shall  I  turn  ? 
I  find  a  secret  yielding  in  my  Soul ; 
But  Cleopatroy  who  would  die  with  me. 
Must  she  be  left  ?     Pity  pleads  for  Octavia  ; 
But  does  it  not  plead  more  for  Cleopatra  f 

Ven,    Justice  and  Pity  both  plead  for  Octavia  ; 
For  Cleopatra^  neither. 
One  would  be  ruin'd  with  you;  but  she  first 
Had  ruin'd  you:  the  other,  you  have  ruin'd, 
And  yet  she  would  preserve  you. 
In  every  thing  their  merits  are  unequal. 

Ant,     O,  my  distracted  Soul ! 

Octav.     Sweet  Heav'n  compose  it. 
Come,  come,  my  Lord,  if  I  can  pardon  you, 
Methinks  you  should  accept  it.     Look  on  these  ; 
Are  they  not  yours  ?     Or  stand  they  thus  neglected 
As  they  are  mine  ?     Go  to  him,  Children,  go  ; 
Kneel  to  him,  take  him  by  the  hand,  speak  to  him; 
For  you  may  speak,  and  he  may  own  you  too. 
Without  a  blush ;  and  so  he  cannot  all 
His  Children  :  go,  I  say,  and  pull  him  to  me, 


1 


DRYDEN—ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  III  443 

And  pull  him  to  your  seWes,  from  that  bad  Woman. 

You,  Agrippina^  hang  upon  his  arms ; 

And  you,  An/onia,  clasp  about  his  waste  : 

If  he  will  shake  you  off,  if  he  will  dash  you 

Against  the  Pavement,  you  must  bear  it,  Children ; 

For  you  are  mine,  and  I  was  bom  to  suffer.     [Ifere  the  Children  go  to  him,  etc. 

Ven,    Was  ever  sight  so  moving !  Emperor  I 

Dolla,     Friend ! 

Octav,     Husband ! 

Both  Childr,     Father ! 

Ant,     I  am  vanquished :  take  me, 
Octavia  ;  take  me,  Children ;  share  me  all.  \^Embracing  them, 

I've  been  a  thriftless  Debtor  to  your  loves. 
And  run  out  much,  in  riot,  from  your  stock ; 
But  all  shall  be  amended. 

Octav.    O  blest  hour ! 

Dolla.     O  happy  change ! 

Ven.     My  joy  stops  at  my  tong^ue ; 
But  it  has  found  two  chanels  here  for  one. 
And  bubbles  out  above. 

Ant,  to  Octav,     This  is  thy  Triumph  ;  lead  me  where  thou  wilt ; 
EVn  to  thy  Brothers  Camp. 

Octav,     All  there  are  yours. 

Enter  Alexas  hastily, 

Alex,    The  Queen,  my  Mistress,  Sir,  and  yours 

Ant.     'Tis  past     Octavia,  you  shall  stay  this  night ;  To  morrow, 
Ccesar  and  we  are  one.  [Ex,  leading  Octavia.  Dol. 

Ven.     There's  news  for  you ;  run,  and  the  Children  follow. 

My  officious  Eunuch, 
Be  sure  to  be  the  first ;  haste  forward : 
Haste,  my  dear  Eunuch,  haste.  [Exit, 

Alex,     This  downright  fighting  Fool,  this  thick-scull'd  Hero, 
This  blunt  unthinking  Instrument  of  death. 
With  plain  dull  Virtue,  has  out-gone  my  Wit : 
Pleasure  forsook  my  early'st  Infancy, 
The  luxury  of  others  robb'd  my  Cradle, 
And  ravish' d  thence  the  promise  of  a  Man  : 
Cast  out  from  Nature,  disinherited 
Of  what  her  meanest  Children  claim  by  kind  ; 
Yet,  greatness  kept  me  from  contempt :  that's  gone. 
Had  Cleopatra  follow' d  my  advice. 
Then  he  had  been  betray'd,  who  now  forsakes. 
She  dies  for  love ;  but  she  has  known  its  joys : 
Gods,  is  this  just,  that  I,  who  knows  no  jo3rs. 
Must  die,  because  she  loves  ? 

Enter  Cleopatra,  Charmion,  Iras,  Train, 
Oh,  Madam,  I  have  seen  what  blasts  my  eyes ! 
Octavia^s  here ! 


444 


APPENDIX 

CUop,    Peace  with  that  Raven's  note. 
I  know  it  too ;  and  now  am  in 
The  pangs  of  death. 

Alex,    You  are  no  more  a  Queen ; 
Egypt  is  lost. 

CUop.    What  teirst  thou  me  of  Egypt  ? 
My  Life,  my  Soul  is  lost !     Octavia  has  him ! 

0  fatal  name  to  CUopatrd's  love  1 

My  kisses,  my  embraces  now  are  hers ; 

While  I But  thou  hast  seen  my  Rival ;  ^eak. 

Does  she  deserve  this  blessing  ?     Is  she  fair, 
Bright  as  a  Goddess  ?  and  is  all  perfection 
Confin'd  to  her?    It  is.     Poor  I  was  made 
Of  that  course  matter  which,  when  she  was  finished. 
The  Gods  threw  by,  for  rubbish. 

AUx,     She's  indeed  a  very  Miracle. 

Cleop.     Death  to  my  hopes,  a  Miracle ! 

AUx.  bowing,     A  Miracle; 

1  mean  of  Goodness ;  for  in  beauty.  Madam, 
You  make  all  wonders  cease. 

CUop,    I  was  too  rash  : 
Take  this  in  part  of  recompence.     But,  Oh,  [Givittg  a  Ring. 

I  fear  thou  flatter'st  me. 

Char,     She  comes !  she's  here ! 

Iras,     Flie,  Madam,  Casar's  Sister ! 

CUop,     Were  she  the  Sister  of  the  Thund'rer  Jove^ 
And  bore  her  Brothers  Lightning  in  her  eyes, 
Thus  would  I  face  my  Rival.  [Meets  Octav.  with  Ventid.  Octav. 

Octav,     I  need  not  ask  if  you  are  Cleopatra^    bears  up  to  her.    Their  Trams 
Your  haughty  carriage come  tip  on  either  side, 

Cleop.     Shows  I  am  a  Queen : 
Nor  need  I  ask  you  who  you  are. 

Octav,     A  Roman  : 
A  name  that  makes,  and  can  unmake  a  Queen. 

Chop.    Your  Lord,  the  Man  who  serves  me,  is  a  Roman. 

Octav.     He  was  a  Roman^  till  he  lost  that  name 
To  be  a  Slave  in  Egypt ;  but  I  come 
To  free  him  thence. 

Cleop,     Peace,  peace,  my  Lover's  Juno. 
When  he  grew  weary  of  that  Houshold-Clog, 
He  chose  my  easier  bonds. 

Octav.     I  wonder  not 
Your  bonds  are  easie ;  you  have  long  been  practised 
In  that  lascivious  art :  he's  not  the  first 
For  whom  you  spread  your  snares ;  let  Ccesar  witness. 

Cleop.     I  lov'd  not  Ccesar ;  'twas  but  gratitude 
I  paid  his  love  :  the  worst  your  malice  can. 
Is  but  to  say  the  greatest  of  Mankind 
Has  been  my  Slave.     The  next,  but  far  above  him, 


DRYDEN-^ALL  FOR  LOVE.  ACT  III  445 

In  my  esteem,  is  he  whom  Law  calls  yours. 
But  whom  his  love  made  mine. 

Oct,  coming  up  close  to  her,    I  would  view  nearer 
That  face,  which  has  so  long  usurped  my  right. 
To  find  th'  inevitable  charms,  that  catch 
Mankind  so  sure,  that  ruin*d  my  dear  Lord. 

Chop,    O,  you  do  well  to  search ;  for  had  you  known 
But  half  these  charms,  you  had  not  lost  his  heart. 

Octav,    Far  be  their  knowledge  from  a  Roman  Lady, 
Far  from  a  modest  Wife.    Shame  of  our  Sex, 
Dost  thou  n^t  blush,  to  own  those  black  endearments 
That  make  sin  pleasing  ? 

Chop,    You  may  blush,  who  want  'em. 
If  bounteous  Nature,  if  indulgent  Heav'n 
Have  giv'n  me  charms  to  please  the  bravest  Man ; 
Should  I  not  thank  'em  ?  should  I  be  asham'd. 
And  not  be  proud  ?    I  am,  that  he  has  loVd  me  ; 
And,  when  I  love  not  him,  HeaVn  change  this  Face 
For  one  like  that. 

Octav,    Thou  lov'st  him  not  so  well. 

Clcop.    I  love  him  better,  and  deserve  him  more. 

Octav,    You  do  not ;  cannot :  you  have  been  his  ruine. 
Who  made  him  cheap  at  Romc^  but  Cleopatra  ? 
Who  made  him  scom'd  abroad,  but  Cleopatra  ? 
At  Actium,  who  betrayed  him  ?     Cleopatra, 
Who  made  his  Children  Orphans  ?  and  poor  me 
A  wretched  Widow  ?  only  Cleopatra, 

Cleop,     Yet  she  who  loves  him  best  is  Cleopatra, 
If  you  have  suffer* d,  I  have  suffered  more. 
You  bear  the  specious  Title  of  a  Wife, 
To  guild  your  Cause,  and  draw  the  pitjring  World 
To  favour  it :  the  World  contemns  poor  me ; 
For  I  have  lost  my  Honour,  lost  my  Fame, 
And  stain' d  the  glory  of  my  Royal  House, 
And  all  to  bear  the  branded  Name  of  Mistress. 
There  wants  but  life,  and  that  too  I  would  lose 
For  him  I  love. 

Octav,     BeH  so  then  ;  take  thy  wish.  [Exit  cum  suit. 

Cleop,     And  'tis  my  wish. 
Now  he  is  lost  for  whom  alone  I  liv'd. 
My  sight  grows  dim,  and  every  object  dances. 
And  swims  before  me,  in  the  maze  of  death. 
My  spirits,  while  they  were  oppos'd,  kept  up; 
They  could  not  sink  beneath  a  Rivals  scorn : 
But  now  she's  gone  they  faint. 

Alex.     Mine  have  had  leisure 
To  recollect  their  strength,  and  furnish  counsel, 
To  ruine  her ;  who  else  must  mine  you. 

Cleop,    Vain  Promiser! 


446  APPENDIX 

Lead  me,  my  Charmion  ;  nay,  your  hand  too,  Iras : 

My  grief  has  weight  enough  to  sink  you  both. 

Conduct  me  to  some  solitary  Chamber, 

And  draw  the  Curtains  round ; 

Then  leave  me  to  my  self,  to  take  alone 

My  fill  of  grief: 

There  I  till  death  will  his  unkindness  weep : 

As  harmless  Infants  moan  themselves  asleep.  [£xetmt. 


Act,  IV. 
Antony,  DollabeUa, 

Dolla.     Why  would  you  shift  it  from  your  self,  on  me?  • 

Can  you  not  tell  her  you  must  part  ? 

Ani,     I  cannot. 
I  could  pull  out  an  eye,  and  bid  it  go. 
And  t'other  should  not  weep.     Oh,  Dottabella, 
How  many  deaths  are  in  this  word  Depart ! 
I  dare  not  trust  my  tongue  to  tell  her  so  : 
One  look  of  hers,  would  thaw  me  into  tears 
And  I  should  melt  till  I  were  lost  agen. 

Dolla.     Then  Ut  Ventidius; 
He's  rough  by  nature. 

Ant.    Oh,  he'll  speak  too  harshly ; 
He'll  kill  her  with  the  news :    Thou,  only  thou. 

DoUa,     Nature  has  cast  me  in  so  soft  a  mould. 
That  but  to  hear  a  story  feign'd  for  pleasure 
Of  some  sad  Lovers  death,  moistens  my  eyes. 
And  robs  me  of  my  Manhood. — I  should  speak 
So  faintly ;  with  such  fear  to  grieve  her  heart, 
She'd  not  believe  it  earnest. 

Ant.    Therefore;  therefore 
Thou  only,  thou  art  6t :  think  thy  self  me. 
And  when  thou  speak'st  (but  let  it  first  be  long) 
Take  off  the  edge  from  every  sharper  soimd. 
And  let  our  parting  be  as  gently  made 
As  other  Loves  begin :  wilt  thou  do  this  ? 

Dolla.     What  you  have  said,  so  sinks  into  my  Soul, 
That,  if  I  must  speak,  I  shall  speak  just  so. 

Ant.    I  leave  you  then  to  your  sad  task  :    Farewel. 
I  sent  her  word  to  meet  you.  ^Goes  to  the  door,  and  comes  hack, 

I  forgot ; 

Let  her  be  told,  I'll  make  her  peace  with  mine : 
Her  Crown  and  Dignity  shall  be  preserv'd. 

If  I  have  pow'r  with  Casar. O,  be  sure 

To  think  on  that.  [Antony  goes  agcnn  to  tke 

Dolla.     Fear  not,  I  will  remember.  door,  and  comes  iack. 

Ant.     And  tell  her,  too,  how  much  I  was  constrain' d; 
I  did  not  this,  but  with  extreamest  force: 


DRYDEN-^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  IV  447 

Desire  her  not  to  hate  my  memory, 

For  I  still  cherish  hers ; insist  on  that. 

DoUa,    Trust  me,  I'll  not  forget  it. 

Ant,     Then  that's  all.  \^Goes  out,  and  returns  again. 

Wilt  thou  forgive  my  fondness  this  once  more  ? 
Tell  her,  tho'  we  shall  never  meet  again, 
If  I  should  hear  she  took  another  Love, 
The  news  would  break  my  heart. — Now  I  must  go; 
For  every  time  I  have  return*  d,  I  feel 
My  Soul  more  tender ;  and  my  next  command 
Would  be  to  bid  her  stay,  and  mine  both.  [Exit, 

Dolla,     Men  are  but  Children  of  a  larger  growth. 
Our  appetites  as  apt  to  change  as  theirs, 
And  full  as  craving  too,  and  full  as  vain  ; 
And  yet  the  Soul,  shut  up  in  her  dark  room, 
Vie^ng  so  clear  abroad,  at  home  sees  nothing ; 
But,  like  a  Mole  in  Earth,  busie  and  blind, 
Works  all  her  folly  up,  and  casts  it  outward 
To  the  Worlds  open  view :  thus  I  discover*  d. 
And  blam*d  the  love  of  ruin*d  Antony ; 
Yet  wish  that  I  were  he,  to  be  so  ruin'd. 

Enter  Ventidius  above. 

Yen,     Alone?  and  talking  to  himself ?  concern* d  too? 
Perhaps  my  ghess  is  right :  he  lov*d  her  once. 
And  may  pursue  it  still. 

Dolla.     O  Friendship !    Friendship ! 
Ill  canst  thou  answer  this ;  and  Reason,  worse : 
Unfaithful  in  th*  attempt ;  hopeless  to  win ; 
And,  if  I  win,  undone  :  meer  madness  all. 
And  yet  th*  occasion's  fair.     What  injury 
To  him,  to  wear  the  Robe  which  he  throws  by  ? 

Ven.    None,  none  at  all.     This  happens  as  I  wish. 
To  mine  her  yet  more  with  Antony, 

Enter  Cleopatra,  talking  with  Alexas,  Charmion, 
Iras  on  the  other  side. 

DoUa.    She  comes !     What  charms  have  sorrow  on  that  face  I 
Sorrow  seems  pleas' d  to  dwell  with  so  much  sweetness; 
Yet,  now  and  then,  a  melancholy  smile 
Breaks  loose,  like  Lightning,  in  a  Winter's  night. 
And  shows  a  moments  day. 

Ven.    If  she  should  love  him  too  I    Her  Eunuch  there  ! 
That  Porcpisce  bodes  ill  weather.     Draw,  draw  nearer, 
Sweet  Devil,  that  I  may  hear.  [Dollabella  goes  over  to  Charmion  and 

Alex.     Believe  me  ;  tiy  Iras ;  seems  to  talk  with  them. 

To  make  him  jealous  ;  jealousie  is  like 
A  polisht  Glass  held  to  the  lips  when  life's  in  doubt : 
If  there  be  breath,  'twill  catch  the  damp  and  show  it 

Cleop.    I  grant  you  jealousie's  a  proof  of  love; 


448  APPENDIX 

But  *tis  a  weak  and  unavailing  Med' cine ; 
It  puts  oat  the  disease,  and  makes  it  show, 
Bat  has  no  pow*r  to  cure. 

AUx,     'Tis  your  last  remedy,  and  strongest  too  : 
And  then  this  DoUabella^  who  so  fit 
To  practice  on  ?     He's  handsom,  valiant,  young. 
And  looks  as  he  were  laid  for  Nature's  bait 
To  catch  weak  Womens  eyes. 
He  stands  already  more  than  half  suspected 
Of  loving  you  :  the  least  kind  word,  or  glance, 
You  give  this  Youth,  will  kindle  him  with  love : 
Then,  like  a  burning  Vessel  set  adrift. 
You'll  send  him  down  amain  before  the  wind. 
To  fire  the  heart  of  jealous  Antony, 

CUop,    Can  I  do  this ?     Ah  no ;  my  love's  so  true, 
That  I  can  neither  hide  it  where  it  is. 
Nor  show  it  where  it  is  not.     Nature  meant  me 
A  Wife,  a  silly  harmless  household  Dove, 
Fond  without  art ;  and  kind  without  deceit ; 
But  Fortune,  that  has  made  a  Mistress  of  me. 
Hast  thrust  me  out  to  the  wide  World,  unfumish'd 
Of  falshood  to  be  happy. 

AUx.     Force  your  self. 
Th*  event  will  be,  your  Lover  will  return 
Doubly  desirous  to  possess  the  good 
Which  once  he  fear'd  to  lose. 

Cleop.     I  must  attempt  it ; 
But  Oh  with  what  regret  I     Exit  Alex.  [She  comes  a^  to  DoHabeOa. 

Ven.    So,  now  the  Scene  draws  near ;  they're  in  my  reach. 

Cleop.  to  DoL     Discoursing  with  my  Women !     Might  not  I 
Share  in  your  entertainment  ? 

Char.     You  have  been 
The  Subject  of  it.  Madam. 

Cleop.     How  ;  and  how  ? 

Iras.     Such  praises  of  your  beauty ! 

Cleop.     Mecr  Poetry. 
Your  Roman  Wits,  your  Callus  and  Tibullus^ 
Have  taught  you  this  from  Citheris  and  Delia, 

Dolla.    Those  Roman  Wits  have  never  been  in  Egypt^ 
Citheris  and  Delia  else  had  been  unsung : 

I,  who  have  seen had  I  been  bom  a  Poet, 

Should  chuse  a  nobler  name. 

Cleop.     You  flatter  me. 
But,  'tis  your  Nation's  vice  :  all  of  your  Country 
Are  flatterers,  and  all  false.     Your  Friend's  like  you. 
I'm  sure  he  sent  you  not  to  speak  these  words. 

Dolla,     No,  Madam ;  yet  he  sent  me 

Cleop,     Well,  he  sent  you 

Dolla,     Of  a  less  pleasing  errand. 


DRYDEN—ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  IV  449 

Chop,     How  less  pleasing? 
Less  to  your  self,  or  me  ? 

Doila,     Madam,  to  both  ; 
For  you  must  mourn,  and  I  must  grieve  to  cause  it. 

Cleop,    You,  Charmian,  and  your  Fellow,  stand  at  distance. 

(Aside.)  Hold  up,  my  Spirits. Well,  now  your  mournful  matter ; 

For  I'm  prepar'd,  perhaps  can  ghess  it  too. 

Dolla,     I  wish  you  would  ;  for  'tis  a  thankless  office 
To  tell  ill  news :  and  I,  of  all  your  Sex, 
Most  fear  displeasing  you. 

CUop,    Of  all  your  Sex, 
I  soonest  could  forgive  you,  if  3rou  should. 

Ven,     Most  delicate  advances !    Woman !    Woman ! 
Dear  damn'd,  inconstant  Sex ! 

Cleop,     In  the  first  place, 
I  am  to  be  forsaken ;  is't  not  so  ? 

Doila,     I  wish  I  could  not  answer  to  that  question. 

Cleop,     Then  pass  it  o'er,  because  it  troubles  you  : 
I  should  have  been  more  grieVd  another  time. 

Next,  I'm  to  lose  my  Kingdom. Farewd,  Egypt. 

Yet,  is  there  any  more  ? 

Doila.     Madam,  I  fear 
Your  too  deep  sense  of  grief  has  tum'd  your  reason. 

Cleop,     No,  no,  I'm  not  run  mad ;  I  can  bear  Fortune : 
And  Love  may  be  expell'd  by  other  Love, 
As  Poysons  are  by  Poysons. 

Doila,     You  o'erjoy  me.  Madam, 

To  find  your  griefs  so  moderately  born. 

You've  heard  the  worst ;  all  are  not  false,  like  him. 

Cleop.    No;  Heav'n  forbid  they  should. 

DoUa,     Some  men  are  constant. 

Cleop.    And  constancy  deserves  reward,  that's  certain. 

Doila,    Deserves  it  not ;  but  give  it  leave  to  hope. 

Ven.    I'll  swear  thou  hast  my  leave.     I  have  enough  : 
But  how  to  manage  this !    Well,  I'll  consider.  [ExiL 

Doila.    I  came  prepar'd, 
To  tell  you  heavy  news ;  news,  which  I  thought. 
Would  fright  the  blood  from  your  pale  cheeks  to  hear : 
But  3rou  have  met  it  with  a  cheerfulness 
That  makes  my  task  more  easie ;  and  my  tongue. 
Which  on  another's  message  was  employ' d, 
Would  gladly  speak  its  own. 

Cleop,     Hold,  Dollabella, 
Fust  tell  me,  were  you  chosen  by  my  Lord  ? 
Or  sought  you  this  employment  ? 

Doila.    He  pick'd  me  out ;  and,  as  his  bosom-friend. 
He  charg'd  me  with  his  words. 

Cleop.    The  message  then 
I  know  was  tender,  and  each  accent  smooth, 

99 


450 


APPENDIX 

To  mollifie  that  ragged  word  Depart, 

DoUa.    Oh,  you  mistake :  he  chose  the  harshest  words, 

With  fiery  eyes,  and  with  contracted  brows. 

He  coyn'd  his  face  in  the  severest  stamp : 

And  fury  shook  his  Fabrick  like  an  Earthquake ; 

He  heav'd  for  vent,  and  burst  like  bellowing  jEtna, 

In  sounds  scarce  humane,  '  Hence,  away  for  ever : 
<  Let  her  begone,  the  blot  of  my  renown,       [All  the  time  of  this  speeek^  Cleop. 
'  And  bane  of  all  my  hopes :  seems  more  and  more  concerned, 

*  Let  her  be  driv'n  as  far  as  men  can  think         till  she  sinks  quite  down, 

*  From  Mans  commerce :    She'll  poyson  to  the  Center.' 

Cleop,    Oh,  I  can  bear  no  more ! 

Dolla.     Help,  help :    Oh  Wretch !    Oh  cursed,  cursed  Wretch  ! 
What  have  I  done  ? 

Char,     Help,  chafe  her  Temples,  Iras, 

Iras.     Bend,  bend  her  forward  quickly. 

Char,     H  eav*  n  be  prais'  d. 
She  comes  again. 

Cle^,     Oh,  let  him  not  approach  me. 
Why  have  you  brought  me  back  to  this  loath' d  Being, 
Th'  abode  of  Falshood,  violated  Vows, 
And  injur*  d  Love  ?    For  pity,  let  me  go ; 
For,  if  there  be  a  place  of  long  repose, 
I'm  sure  I  want  it     My  disdainful  Lord 
Can  never  break  that  quiet ;  nor  awake 
The  sleeping  Soul,  with  hollowing  in  my  Tomb 
Such  words  as  fright  her  hence.     Unkind,  unkind. 

Dolla,  kneeling.     Believe  me,  'tis  against  my  self  I  sgftak^ 
That  sure  deserves  belief ;  I  injur'd  him  : 
My  Friend  ne'er  spoke  those  words.     Oh,  had  you  seen 
How  often  he  came  back,  and  every  time 
With  something  more  obliging  and  more  kind. 
To  add  to  what  he  said  ;  what  dear  Farewels; 
How  almost  vanquisht  by  his  love  he  parted, 
And  lean'd  to  what  unwillingly  he  left : 
I,  Traitor  as  I  was,  for  love  of  you, 
(But  what  can  you  not  do,  who  made  me  false !) 
I  forg'd  that  lye ;  for  whose  forgiveness  kneels 
This  self-accused,  self-punished  Criminal. 

Cleop.    With  how  much  ease  believe  we  ^hat  we  wish ! 
Rise,  Dollabella  ;  if  you  have  been  guilty, 
I  have  contributed,  and  too  much  love 
Has  made  me  guilty  too. 

Th'  advance  of  kindness  which  I  made,  was  feigned. 
To  call  back  fleeting  love  by  jealousie  ; 
But  'twould  not  last.     Oh,  rather  let  me  lose 
Than  so  ignobly  trifle  with  his  heart. 

Dolla.     I  find  your  breast  fenc'd  round  from  humane  reach, 
Transparent  as  a  Rock  of  solid  Crystal ; 


DRYDEN—ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  IV  451 

Seen  Uuroogh,  but  nerer  pierc'd.     My  Friend,  my  Friend ! 

What  endless  treasure  hast  thou  thrown  away, 

And  scattered,  like  an  Infant,  in  the  Ocean, 

Vain  sums  of  Wealth  which  none  can  gather  thence. 

CUop,    Could  you  not  beg 
An  hours  admittance  to  his  private  ear  ? 
Like  one  who  wanders  through  long  barren  Wilds, 
And  yet  foreknows  no  hospitable  Inn 
Is  near  to  succour  hunger. 
Eats  his  fill,  before  his  painful  march : 
So  would  I  feed  a  while  my  famish' d  eyes 
Before  we  part ;  for  I  have  far  to  go. 
If  death  be  far,  and  never  must  return. 

Ventidius,  with  Octavia,  behind, 

Ven,     From  hence  you  may  discover Oh,  sweet,  sweet  I 

Would  you  indeed  ?  the  pretty  hand  in  earnest  ? 

Doila,  tahes  her  hand,     I  will,  for  this  reward. Draw  it  not  back, 

'Tis  all  I  e'er  wiU  beg. 

Ven,     They  turn  upon  us. 

Octav,     What  quick  eyes  has  guilt ! 

Ven,     Seem  not  to  have  observed  'em,  and  go  on. 

They  enter, 

Dolla,     Saw  you  the  Emperor,  Ventidius  f  Ven,    No. 

I  sought  him ;  but  I  heard  that  he  was  private. 
None  with  him,  but  Hipparchui  his  Freedman. 

DoUa.    Know  you  his  business? 

Ven,     Giving  him  Instructions, 
And  Letters,  to  his  Brother  Casar. 

Dolla,    Well, 
He  must  be  found.  [Exeunt  Dol.  and  Qeop. 

Octav,    Most  glorious  impudence ! 

Ven,    She  look'd  methought 
As  she  would  say,  Take  your  old  man,  Octavia  ; 
Thank  you,  I'm  better  here. 
Well,  but  what  use 
Make  we  of  this  discovery  ? 

Octav,     Let  it  die. 

Ven,     I  pity  Dollabella;  but  she's  dangerous : 
Her  e3res  have  pow'r  beyond  Thessalian  Charms 
To  draw  the  Moon  from  Heav'n  ;  for  Eloquence, 
The  Sea-green  Syrens  taught  her  voice  their  flatt'ry ; 
And,  while  she  speaks,  Night  steals  upon  the  Day, 
Unmaric'd  of  those  that  hear:    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  heav'd  hands  forgetting  gravity. 
They  bless  her  ¥ranton  eyes :    Even  I  who  hate  her. 
With  a  malignant  joy  behold  such  beauty  ; 
And,  while  I  curse,  desire  it.    Anthony 


452 


APPENDIX 

Most  needs  have  some  renuuns  of  pas»on  still. 
Which  may  ferment  into  a  worse  relapse, 
If  now  not  fully  cur'd.     I  know,  this  minute. 
With  Casar  he's  endeavouring  her  peace. 

Octav,     You  have  prevaird : — ^but  for  a  fiarther  purpose  [  WaUu  tjjf. 

m  pioTC  how  he  will  relish  this  discovery. 
What,  make  a  Strumpet's  peace !  it  swells  my  heart : 
It  must  not,  sha'  not  be. 

Ven,     Hb  Guards  appear. 
Let  me  begin,  and  you  shall  second  me. 

Enter  Antony. 

Ant,     Octavia^  I  was  looking  you,  my  love : 
What,  are  your  Letters  ready  ?     I  have  giVn 
My  last  Instructions. 

Octav,     Mine,  my  Lord,  are  written. 

Ant,      Ventidius  /  \Drawmg  kim  aside. 

Ven.    My  Lord? 

Ant.    A  word  in  private. 
When  saw  you  DoUabella  f 

Ven.     Now,  my  Lord, 
He  parted  hence ;  and  Cleopatra  with  him. 

Ant.     Speak  softly.     'Twas  by  my  command  he  went. 
To  bear  my  last  larewel. 

Ven.  aloud.     It  look'd  indeed 
Like  3rour  farewel. 

Ant.     More  softly. My  farewel  ? 

What  secret  meaning  have  you  in  those  words 
Of  my  Farewel  ?     He  did  it  by  my  Order. 

Ven.  aloud.     Then  he  obey'd  your  Order.     I  suppose 
You  bid  him  do  it  with  all  gentleness. 
All  kindness,  and  all love. 

Ant.     How  she  moum'd. 
The  poor  forsaken  Creature ! 

Ven.     She  took  it  as  she  ought ;  she  bore  your  parting 
As  she  did  Casar'St  as  she  would  anothers, 
Were  a  new  Love  to  come. 

Ant.  aloud.     Thou  dost  belye  her ; 
Most  basely,  and  maliciously  belye  her. 

Ven.     I  thought  not  to  displease  you  ;  I  have  done. 

Octav.  coming  up.    You  seem  disturbed,  my  Lord. 

Ant.     A  very  trifle. 
Retire,  my  Love. 

Ven.     It  was  indeed  a  trifle. 
He  sent 

Ant.  angrily.     No  more.     Look  how  thou  disobey*st  me ; 
Thy  life  shall  answer  it. 

Octav.     Then  *tis  no  trifle. 

Ven.  to  Octav.     *Tis  less  ;  a  very  nothing :  you  too  saw  it. 
As  well  as  I,  and  therefore  'tis  no  secret. 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  IV  453 

Ant     She  saw  it ! 

Ven,     Yes  :  she  saw  young  DoUabella 

Ant,     Young  DoUabella  / 

Ven,     Young,  I  think  him  young. 
And  handsom  too ;  and  so  do  others  think  him. 
But  what  of  that  ?     He  went  by  your  conmiand, 
Indeed  'tis  probable,  with  some  kind  message ; 
For  she  receiv'd  it  graciously;  she  smiPd : 
And  then  he  grew  familiar  with  her  hand, 
Squeez'd  it,  and  worry' d  it  with  raTenous  kisses; 
She  blush'd,  and  sigh'd,  and  smii'd,  and  blush'd  again ; 
At  last  she  took  occasion  to  talk  softly, 
And  brought  her  cheek  up  close,  and  lean'd  on  his : 
At  which,  he  whisper'd  kisses  back  on  hers ; 
And  then  she  cry'd  aloud,  That  constancy 
Should  be  rewarded. 

Octav,     This  I  saw  and  heard. 

Ant.    What  Woman  was  it,  whom  you  heard  and  saw 
So  playfol  with  my  Friend ! 
Not  Cleopatra  ? 

Ven.     Ev'n  she,  my  Lord ! 

Ant,     My  Cleopatral 

Ven,     Your  Cleopatra  \ 
DoHabella^%  Cleopatra: 
Every  Man's  Cleopatra,* 

Ant,     Thou  ly*st. 

Ven.    I  do  not  lye,  my  Lord. 
Is  this  so  strange  ?    Should  Mistresses  be  left, 
And  not  provide  against  a  time  of  change  ? 
You  know  she's  not  much  us'd  to  lonely  nights. 

Ant.    I'll  think  no  more  on't 
I  know  'tis  false,  and  see  the  plot  betwixt  you. 
You  needed  not  have  gone  this  way,  Octavia, 
What  harms  it  you  that  Cleopatre^%  just  ? 
She's  mine  no  more.     I  see ;  and  I  forgive: 
Urge  it  no  farther,  Love. 

Octav.     Are  you  concem'd 
That  she's  found  false? 

Ant.     I  should  be,  were  it  so ; 
For,  tho  'tis  past,  I  would  not  that  the  World 
Should  tax  my  former  choice:    That  I  lov'd  one 
Of  so  light  note ;  but  I  forgive  you  both. 

Ven,    What  has  my  age  deserv'd,  that  you  should  think 
I  would  abuse  your  ears  with  perjury  ? 
If  Heav'n  be  true,  she's  false. 

Ant.     Tho  Heav'n  and  Earth 
Should  witness  it,  I'll  not  believe  her  tainted. 

* '  Leonato's  Hero,  your  Hero,  every  man's  Hero.' — Much  Ado,  III,  ii,  108. — Ed. 


454 


APPENDIX 

Ven.    lUI  bring  you  then  a  Witness 
From  Hell  to  prove  her  so.     Nay,  go  not  back  ;  \SeeU^  Alezas  jmH 

For  stay  you  must  and  shall.  entring,  ond  starting  back, 

Alex,     What  means  my  Lord  ? 

Ven.     To  make  you  do  what  most  you  hate ;  speak  truth. 
You  are  of  Cleopatra's  private  Counsel, 
Of  her  Bed-Counsel,  her  lascivious  hours ; 
Are  conscious  of  each  nightly  change  she  makes. 
And  watch  her,  as  Chaldeans  do  the  Moon, 
Can  tell  what  Signs  she  passes  through,  what  day. 

Alex.     My  noble  Lord. 

Ven,     My  most  illustrious  Pandar, 
No  fine  set  Speech,  no  Cadence,  no  tum*d  Periods, 
But  a  plain  home-spun  Truth,  is  what  I  ask  : 
I  did,  my  self,  overhear  your  Queen  make  love 
To  Dollabella,     Speak  ;  for  I  will  know, 
By  your  confession,  what  more  past  betwixt  *em  ; 
How  near  the  bus'ness  draws  to  your  employment ; 
And  when  the  happy  hour. 

Ant.    Speak  truth,  Alexas,  whether  it  offend 
Or  please  Ventidius^  care  not :  justifie 
Thy  injur' d  Queen  from  malice :  dare  his  worst 

Octav,  aside.    See,  how  he  gives  him  courage !  how  he  fears 
To  find  her  false  !  and  shuts  his  eyes  to  truth. 
Willing  to  be  misled ! 

Alex.     As  far  as  love  may  plead  for  Woman's  frailty, 
Urg'd  by  desert  and  greatness  of  the  Lover ; 
So  far  (Divine  OctaviaX)  may  my  Queen 
Stand  ev'n  excused  to  you,  for  loving  him, 
Who  is  your  Lord  :  so  far,  from  brave  Ventidius, 
May  her  past  actions  hope  a  fair  report. 

Ant.     'Tis  well,  and  truly  spoken  :  mark,  Ventidius. 

Alex.     To  you,  most  Noble  Emperor,  her  strong  passion 
Stands  not  excus'd,  but  wholly  justified. 
Her  Beauty*  s  charms  alone,  without  her  Crown, 
From  Ind  and  Meroe  drew  the  distant  Vows 
Of  sighing  Kings ;  and  at  her  feet  were  laid 
The  Scepters  of  the  Earth,  exposed  on  heaps. 
To  choose  where  she  would  Reign  : 
She  thought  a  Roman  only  could  deserve  her ; 
And,  of  all  Romans^  only  Antony. 
And,  to  be  less  than  Wife  to  you,  disdained 
Their  lawful  passion. 

Ant.     *Tis  but  truth. 

Alex.    And  yet,  tho  love,  and  your  unmatched  desert, 
Have  drawn  her  from  the  due  regard  of  Honor, 
At  last,  Heav*n  openM  her  unwilling  eyes 
To  see  the  wrongs  she  offer'd  fair  Octavia^ 
Whose  holy  Bed  she  lawlessly  usurpt. 


DRYDEN~-^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  IV  455 

The  sad  eflfects  of  this  improsperous  War, 
Confirmed  those  pious  thoughts. 

Ven,  aside,     O,  wheel  you  there  ? 
Observe  him  now ;  the  Man  begins  to  mend, 
And  talk  substantial  reason.     Fear  not,  Eunuch, 
The  Emperor  has  giv'n  thee  leave  to  speak. 

Alex,     Else  had  I  never  dar'd  t'  offend  his  ears 
With  what  the  last  necessity  has  ui^'d 
On  my  forsaken  Mistress ;  yet  I  must  not 
Presume  to  say  her  heart  is  wholly  alter*  d. 

Ant.    No,  dare  not  for  thy  life,  I  charge  thee  dare  not, 
Pronounce  that  fatal  word. 

Octav,  aside.     Must  I  bear  this  ?  good  Heav'n  afford  me  patience. 

Ven,    On,  sweet  Eunuch ;  my  dear  half  man,  proceed. 

Alex.     Yet  Dollabella 
Has  loVd  her  long,  he,  next  my  God-like  Lord, 
Deserves  her  best ;  and  should  she  meet  his  passion. 
Rejected,  as  she  is,  by  him  she  lov'd 

Ant,     Hence,  from  my  sight ;  for  I  can  bear  no  more : 
Let  Furies  drag  thee  quick  to  Hell ;  let  all 
The  longer  damnM  have  rest ;  each  torturing  hand 
Do  thou  employ,  till  Cleopatra  comes. 
Then  joyn  thou  too,  and  help  to  torture  her.  [Exit  Alexas,  thrust  out  by  Antony. 

Octav,     *Tis  not  well, 
Indeed,  my  Lord,  'tis  much  unkind  to  me, 
To  show  this  passion,  this  eztream  concernment 
For  an  abandoned,  faithless  Prostitute. 

Ant,     Octavia^  leave  me :    I  am  much  disordered. 
Leave  me,  I  say. 

Octav.     My  Lord  ? 

Ant,    I  bid  you  leave  me. 

Ven,     Obey  him,  Madam  :  best  withdraw  a  while, 
And  see  how  this  will  work. 

Octav,     Wherein  have  I  offended  you,  my  Lord, 
That  I  am  bid  to  leave  you  ?    Am  I  false. 
Or  infamous  ?     Am  I  a  CleopcUra  ? 
Were  I  she. 

Base  as  she  is,  you  would  not  bid  me  leave  you ; 
But  hang  upon  my  neck,  take  slight  excuses. 
And  fawn  upon  my  falshood. 

Ant,     'Tis  too  much. 
Too  much,  Octavia ;  I  am  prest  with  sorrows 
Too  heavy  to  be  bom  ;  and  you  add  more : 
I  would  retire,  and  recollect  what's  left 
Of  Man  within,  to  aid  me. 

Octav,    You  would  mourn 
In  private,  for  your  Love,  who  has  betray' d  you ; 
You  did  but  half  return  to  me :  your  kindness 
Lingered  behind  with  her.     I  hear,  my  Lord, 


4S6 


APPENDIX 

Yoa  make  Conditions  for  her, 

And  would  include  her  Treaty.     Wondrous  proofs 

Of  love  to  me  ! 

Ant,     Are  you  my  Friend,  Venddius  ? 
Or  are  you  turned  a  DoUabella  too, 
And  let  this  Fury  loose  ? 

Ven,     Oh,  be  advis'd. 
Sweet  Madam,  and  retire. 

Ociav,     Yes,  I  will  go ;  but  never  to  return. 
You  shall  no  more  be  haunted  with  this  Fury. 
My  Lord,  my  Lord,  love  will  not  always  last, 
When  urg'd  with  long  unkindness,  and  disdain ; 
Take  her  again  whom  you  prefer  to  me ; 
She  stays  but  to  be  call'd.     Poor  cozen*  d  Man ! 
Let  a  feign'd  parting  give  her  back  your  heart. 
Which  a  feign'd  love  first  got ;  for  injur'd  me, 
Tho'  my  just  sense  of  wrongs  forbid  my  stay. 
My  duty  shall  be  yours. 
To  the  dear  pledges  of  our  former  love. 
My  tenderness  and  care  shall  be  transferred. 
And  they  shall  cheer,  by  turns,  my  Widow*  d  Nights : 
So,  take  my  last  farewel ;  for  I  despair 
To  have  you  whole,  and  scorn  to  take  you  half.  [Exit, 

Ven,    I  combat  Heav*n,  which  blasts  my  best  designs: 
My  last  attempt  must  be  to  win  her  back ; 
But  Oh,  I  fear  in  vain.  [Exit, 

Ant,     Why  was  I  fram'd  with  this  plain  honest  heart. 
Which  knows  not  to  disguise  its  griefs  and  weakness. 
But  bears  its  workings  outward  to  the  World  ? 
I  should  have  kept  the  mighty  anguish  in. 
And  forc'd  a  smile  at  Cleopatra's  falshood: 
Octavia  had  believ'd  it,  and  had  staid ; 
But  I  am  made  a  shallow-forded  Stream, 
Seen  to  the  bottom :  all  my  clearness  scom'd. 

And  all  my  faults  expos*  d  ! See,  where  he  comes 

Enter  DoUabella. 
Who  has  prophan'd  the  Sacred  Name  of  Friend, 
And  worn  it  into  vileness ! 
With  how  secure  a  brow,  and  specious  form 
He  guilds  the  secret  Villain !     Sure  that  face 
Was  meant  for  honesty  ;  but  Heav'n  mis-match*d  it. 
And  fumish'd  Treason  out  with  Natures  pomp. 
To  make  its  work  more  easie. 

Dolla,     O,  my  Friend ! 

Ant,    Well,  DoUabella^  you  perform*d  my  message? 

Dolla,     I  did,  unwillingly. 

Ant,     Unwillingly  ? 
Was  it  so  hard  for  you  to  bear  our  parting  ? 
You  should  have  wisht  it. 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  IV  4^^ 

Do/la.     Why? 

An/,     Because  you  love  me. 
And  she  received  my  message,  with  as  true. 
With  as  unfeigned  a  sorrow,  as  you  brought  it  ? 

DoUa,     She  loves  you,  ev'n  to  madness. 

Ant,     Oh,  I  know  it. 
You,  Dollabella,  do  not  better  know 
How  much  she  loves  me.     And  should  I 
Forsake  this  Beauty  ?    This  all-perfect  Creature  ? 

Dolla,     I  could  not,  were  she  mine. 

Ant.     And  yet  you  first 
Pers waded  me  :  how  come  you  alter* d  since  ? 

Dolla,     I  said  at  first  I  was  not  fit  to  go ; 
I  could  not  hear  her  sighs,  and  see  her  tears. 
But  pity  must  prevail :  and  so,  perhaps, 
It  may  again  with  you  ;  for  I  have  promised 
That  she  should  take  her  last  farewel :  and,  see, 
She  comes  to  claim  my  word. 

Enter  Cleopatra. 

Ant,     False  Dollabella ! 

Dolla.    What's  false,  my  Lord  ? 

Ant.     Why,  Dollabella's  false. 
And  Cleopatra's  false ;  both  false  and  faithless. 
Draw  near,  you  welUjoin'd  wickedness,  you  Serpents, 
Whom  I  have,  in  my  kindly  bosom,  warm'd 
Till  I  am  stung  to  death. 

Dolla.    My  Lord,  have  I 
Deserved  to  be  thus  us'd  ? 

CUop,     Can  Heav'n  prepare 
A  newer  Torment  ?     Can  it  find  a  Curse 
Beyond  our  separation  ? 

Ant.    Yes,  if  Fate 
Be  just,  much  greater :  Heav'n  should  be  ingenious 
In  punishing  such  crimes.     The  rowling  Stone, 
And  gnawing  Vulture,  were  slight  pains,  invented 
When  Jove  was  young,  and  no  examples  known 
Of  mighty  ills  ;  but  you  have  ripen'd  sin 
To  such  a  monstrous  gro¥rth,  'twill  pose  the  Gods 
To  find  an  equal  Torture.     Two,  two  such. 

Oh  there's  no  farther  name,  two  such to  me. 

To  me,  who  lock'd  my  Soul  within  your  breasts, 

Had  no  desires,  no  joys,  no  life,  but  you ; 

When  half  the  Globe  was  mine,  I  gave  it  you 

In  Dowry  with  my  heart ;  I  had  no  use. 

No  fruit  of  all,  but  you  :  a  Friend  and  Mistress 

Was  what  the  World  could  give.     Oh,  Cleopatra  I 

Oh,  Dollabella !  how  could  you  betray 

This  tender  heart,  which  with  an  Infant-fondness 

Lay  lull'd  betwixt  your  bosoms,  and  there  slept 


458 


APPENDIX 

Secure  of  injur'd  Faith  ? 

DoUa,     If  she  has  wrong'd  you, 
Heav'n,  Hell,  and  You  revenge  it 

Ant,    If  she  wrong*  d  me. 
Thou  wouldst  evade  thy  part  of  guilt ;  but  swear 
Thou  lov*st  not  her. 

Dolla,     Not  so  as  I  love  you. 

Ant.    Not  so  !     Swear,  swear,  I  say,  thou  dost  not  love  her. 

Dolla,     No  more  than  Friendship  will  allow. 

Ant,     No  more  ? 

Friendship  allows  thee  nothing :  thou  art  perjured. 

And  yet  thou  didst  not  swear  thou  lov'dst  her  not; 
But  not  so  much,  no  more.     Oh  trifling  Hypocrite, 
Who  dar'st  not  own  to  her  thou  dost  not  love. 
Nor  own  to  me  thou  dost !      Vetitidius  heard  it; 
Octmtia  saw  it 

Cleop,    They  are  enemies. 

Ant,     Alexas  is  not  so  :  he,  he  confest  it ; 
He,  who,  next  Hell,  best  knew  it,  he  avovr'd  it 
(  To  DoL)  Why  do  I  seek  a  proof  beyond  3roar  self  ? 
You  whom  I  sent  to  bear  my  last  Farewel, 
Return' d  to  plead  her  stay. 

Dolla,     What  shall  I  answer? 
If  to  have  lov'd  be  guilt,  then  I  have  sinn'd; 
But  if  to  have  repented  of  that  love 
Can  wash  away  my  crime,  I  have  repented. 
Yet,  if  I  have  offended  past  forgiveness. 
Let  not  her  sufler :  she  is  innocent. 

Cleop,     Ah,  what  will  not  a  Woman  do  who  loves  I 
What  means  will  she  refuse,  to  keep  that  heart 
Where  all  her  joys  are  placed  !     *Twas  I  encouraged, 
'Twas  I  blew  up  the  fire  that  scorch'd  his  Soul, 
To  make  you  jealous  ;  and  by  that  regain  you. 
But  all  in  vain ;  I  could  not  counterfeit : 
In  spight  of  all  the  damms,  my  love  broke  o'er, 
And  drown' d  my  heart  again  :    Fate  took  th'  occasion ; 
And  thus  one  minutes  feigning  has  destroy*  d 
My  whole  life's  truth. 

Ant.    Thin  Cobweb  Arts  of  Falshood ; 
Seen,  and  broke  through  at  first 

Dolla,     Forgive  your  Mistress. 

Cleop.     Forgive  your  Friend. 

Ant,     You  have  con  vine' d  your  selves. 
You  plead  each  others  Cause  :    Wliat  Witness  have  you. 
That  you  but  meant  to  raise  my  jealousie  ? 

Cleop,     Our  selves,  and  Heav'n. 

Ant,     Guilt  witnesses  for  guilt.     Hence,  Love  and  Friendship  ; 
You  have  no  longer  place  in  humane  breasts. 
These  two  have  driv'n  you  out :  avoid  my  sight ; 


DRYDEN^-ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  IV  459 

I  would  not  kill  the  Man  whom  I  lov*d ; 
And  cannot  hurt  the  Woman ;  but  avoid  me, 
I  do  not  know  how  long  I  can  be  tame ; 
For,  if  I  stay  one  minute  more  to  think 
How  I  am  wrong'd,  my  Justice  and  Revenge 
I  Will  cry  so  loud  within  me,  that  my  pity 
^  Will  not  be  heard  for  either. 

Dolla,     Heav'n  has  but 
Our  sorrow  for  our  sins ;  and  then  delights 
To  pardon  erring  Man :  sweet  Mercy  seems 
Its  darling  Attribute,  which  limits  Justice ; 
As  if  there  were  degrees  in  Infinite ; 
And  Infinite  would  rather  want  perfection 
Than  punish  to  extent. 

Ant.     I  can  forgive 
A  Foe  ;  but  not  a  Mistress,  and  a  Friend : 
Treason  is  there  in  its  most  horrid  shape, 
Where  truth  is  greatest :  and  the  Soul  resigned 
Is  stabbed  by  its  own  Guards  :    I*  11  hear  no  more ; 
Hence  from  my  sight,  for  ever. 

CUop,     How  ?  for  ever ! 
I  cannot  go  one  moment  from  your  sight, 
And  must  I  go  for  ever  ? 
My  joys,  my  only  joys  are  center* d  here : 
What  place  have  I  to  go  to  ?  my  own  Kingdom  ? 
That  I  have  lost  for  you :  or  to  the  Romans  ? 
They  hate  me  for  your  sake :  or  must  I  wander 
The  wide  World  o'er,  a  helpless,  banish' d  Woman, 
Banish*d  for  love  of  you ;  banish'd  from  you ; 
I,  there's  the  Banishment !     Oh  hear  me  ;  hear  me, 
With  strictest  Justice :  for  I  beg  no  favour : 
And  if  I  have  offended  you,  then  kill  me, 
But  do  not  banish  me. 

Ant.     I  must  not  hear  you. 
I  have  a  Fool  within  me  takes  your  part ; 
But  Honour  stops  my  ears. 

Chop.    For  pity  hear  me ! 
Wou'd  you  cast  off  a  Slave  who  follow*  d  you. 

Who  crouch*  d  beneath  your  Spurn  ? He  has  no  pity  I 

See,  if  he  gives  one  tear  to  my  departure ; 
One  look,  one  kind  farewel :    Oh  Iron  heart ! 
Let  all  the  Gods  look  down,  and  judge  betwixt  us. 
If  he  did  ever  love ! 

Anth.     No  more  :    Alexas  \ 

Dolla,     A  peijur'd  Villain  1 

Anth,  to  Cleop.     Your  Alexas ;  yours. 

CUop.    O  'twas  his  plot :  his  ruinous  design 
T'  ingage  you  in  my  love  by  jealousie. 
Hear  him  ;  confront  him  with  me ;  let  him  speak. 


46o  APPENDIX 

Antk,    I  have;  I  have. 

Cleop,     And  if  he  clear  me  not 


Ant.    Your  Creature  !  one  who  hangs  upon  your  smiles  t 
Watches  your  eye  to  say  or  to  unsay 
Whatever  you  please !    I  am  not  to  be  mov*  d. 

CUop.     Then  must  we  part?    Farewel,  my  cruel  Lord, 
Th'  appearance  is  against  me ;  and  I  go 
Unjustified,  for  ever  from  your  sight 
How  I  have  lov'd,  you  know ;  how  yet  I  love. 
My  only  comfort  is,  I  know  my  self : 
I  love  you  more,  ev^n  now  you  are  unkind, 
Than  when  you  lov'd  me  most ;  so  well,  so  truly, 
I'll  never  strive  against  it ;  but  die  pleas'd 
To  think  you  once  were  mine. 

Ant,     Good  Heav'n,  they  weep  at  parting. 
Must  I  weep  too?  that  calls  'em  innocent. 
I  must  not  weep ;  and  yet  I  must,  to  think 

That  I  must  not  forgive. 

Live ;  but  live  wretched,  'tis  but  just  you  shou'd. 

Who  made  me  so :  Live  from  each  others  sight : 

Let  me  not  hear  you  meet :  Set  all  the  Earth, 

And  all  the  Seas,  betwixt  your  sundered  Loves : 

View  nothing  common  but  the  Sun  and  Skys  : 

Now,  all  take  several  ways; 

And  each  your  own  sad  fate  with  mine  deplore ; 

That  you  were  false,  and  I  could  trust  no  more.  [Exeunt  seoer^y. 


Act.  V. 

Cleopatra,  CAarmian,  Iras. 

Char,     Be  juster,  Heav'n :  such  virtue  punish'd  thus. 
Will  make  us  think  that  Chance  rules  all  above. 
And  shuffles,  with  a  random  hand,  the  Lots 
Which  Man  is  forc'd  to  draw. 

Cleop.     I  cou'd  tear  out  these  e3res,  that  gain'd  his  heart. 
And  had  not  pow'r  to  keep  it.    O  the  curse 
Of  doting  on,  ev'n  when  I  find  it  Dotage ! 
Bear  witness,  Gods,  you  heard  him  bid  me  go; 
You  whom  he  mock'd  with  imprecating  Vows 

Of  promis*d  Faith. I'll  die,  I  will  not  bear  it. 

You  may  hold  me. [She  pulls  out  her  Dagger^  and  they  hold  her. 

But  I  can  keep  my  breath  ;  I  can  die  inward, 
And  choak  this  Love. 

Enter  Alezas. 
.     Iras.     Help,  O  Alexas,  help  ! 
The  Queen  grows  desperate,  her  Soul  struggles  in  her, 
With  all  the  Agonies  of  Love  and  Rage, 
And  strives  to  force  its  passage. 

Cleop,     Let  me  go. 
Art  thou  there,  Traitor ! O, 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  V  461 

O,  for  a  little  breath,  to  vent  my  rage  ! 

Give,  give  me  way,  and  let  me  loose  upon  him. 

Alex.     Yes,  I  deserve  it,  for  my  ill-tim'd  truth. 
Was  it  for  me  to  prop 
The  Ruins  of  a  falling  Majesty  ? 
To  place  my  self  beneath  the  mighty  flaw. 
Thus  to  be  crushed,  and  pounded  into  Atomes, 
By  its  o'erwhelming  weight?    'Tis  too  presuming 
For  Subjects,  to  preserve  that  wilful  pow*r 
Which  courts  its  own  destruction. 

Cleop,     I  wou'd  reason 
More  calmly  with  you.     Did  not  you  o'er-rule, 
And  force  my  plain,  direct,  and  open  love 
Into  these  crooked  paths  of  jealousie  ? 
Now,  what's  th'  event?     Octavia  is  removed ; 
But  Cleopatrcfs  banished.     Thou,  thou,  Villain, 
Has  pushed  my  Boat,  to  open  Sea;  to  prove. 
At  my  sad  cost,  if  thou  canst  steer  it  back. 
It  cannot  be ;  I*m  lost  too  far;  I'm  ruin'd  : 

Hence,  thou  Impostor,  Traitor,  Monster,  Devil. 

I  can  no  more  :  thou,  and  my  griefs,  have  sunk 
Me  down  so  low,  that  I  want  voice  to  curse  thee. 

Alex.    Suppose  some  shipwrack'd  Seaman  near  the  shore, 
Dropping  and  faint,  with  climbing  up  the  Cliff, 
If,  from  above,  some  charitable  hand 
Pull  him  to  safety,  hazarding  himself 
To  draw  the  others  weight;  wou'd  he  look  back 
And  curse  him  for  his  pains  ?    The  case  is  yours ; 
But  one  step  more,  and  you  have  gain*d  the  heighth. 

Cleop,     Sunk,  never  more  to  rise. 

Alex,     Octavia^ %  gone,  and  Dollabella  banish' d. 
Believe  me.  Madam,  Antony  is  yours. 
His  heart  was  never  lost ;  but  started  off 
To  Jealousie,  Love's  last  retreat  and  covert : 
Where  it  lies  hid  in  Shades,  watchful  in  silence. 
And  list'ning  for  the  sound  that  calls  it  back. 
Some  other,  any  man,  ('tis  so  advanc'd) 
May  perfect  this  unfinish'd  work,  which  I 
(Unhappy  only  to  my  self  )  have  left 
So  easie  to  his  hand. 

Cleop,     Look  well  thou  do't ;  else 

Alex,     Else,  what  your  silence  threatens. Antony 

Is  mounted  up  the  Pharos ;  from  whose  Turret, 
He  stands  surveying  our  Egyptian  Gallies, 
Engag'd  with  Casar's  Fleet :  now  Death,  or  Conquest. 
If  the  first  happen,  Fate  acquits  my  promise  : 
If  we  o'ercome,  the  Conqueror  is  yours. 

A  distant  Shout  within. 

Char,     Have  comfort.  Madam :  did  you  mark  that  Shout  ? 


W»mi  .riiif 
Iraf.      \^nt\  '.  -hpy  rMmftol«  it. 
Af^r.      Ti*  (mm  th«»  IViff. 
Th^  IrtMfin^*  show^  ir  n«ir  :  .4iooKi 

'7/«»^.         -Orfr^f  lAftlcff  iC  SO. 

.^^*'^.     \Vh«iT^.  ^«fln^5  the  Qnern? 

/fZ-^r.      Hotr  rdi»btfnlly  the  holy  O 
^^   f  iw%r  ypt  r^ovfT'i  -"if  th*  aMMiitr 
\^ni^*i  ill  -n^  ^Hvi^^  md  T:»h«l'>  laore  dear  Uk 
Win  <*>f|l-Ting»  '.r»tw*  at  >4ake. 

'^■''''/T^.     O  hoftw,  hormr! 
^f/p'  W^^  hwMn  ;  'vir  Infest  hoar  is  come : 
TTt^  ^/n^-^n  <^f  .Vnf  i/>n<  from  her  ancient  saflL 
N  .^nnV  r«^  ^v*T  in  the  ri«rW  Anyss: 
Tim^  h*«i  titm>w!M  Her  ^rlories  to  rlie  laiC, 
AM  now  do«M  t>^  the  V'>)ome. 

f5«y,  vrh^nr*  (V^  frtm'«r,  (thoo^  Fate  is  in  tfar 
WM<^h  frvMVi  fhy  yatfg^tA  fjtn  looki  wildly  oat. 
AM  fhr^t^TW  ef(?  fhow  !i]pesk\<c. ) 
.<>^4'/.     f  A<ittt**  fr<ym  PhatM ; 
Tfffm  ff^wrf»f  /«pitr^  m«  sM  imi^iie  it) 

</^^/      Vnminf^hM  7 

r/..^/    th^fi  thfy  nM. 

tVuh  J^h^Mt't  y*Mif  w#«ll  iit>tKilnlf(l  Fleet 
t^H«v  »M*»  (  MHtt  |hrit«i  )i#  WHvM  hit  hsDd  DO  high, 
A»i»^  ♦l^ft****  will*  i>HiM»tfu)  i*flr«  ihry  thoated  back  : 
'  Vwit*  I^Hn  ^«)^  I^MHMh<>«  likr  ft  fftwning  Stimiipet, 

\W*kkk  \s*  Imvki  »>♦♦•  tU»tktM|i|  h\Hti^ftl, 

WuU  ^  «Ui«^4«tk«t«H\  •HtiU  wviiM  ki«  ftt  {Murtioig, 
Hy^  U»i*k  lx^**H  ^¥¥«^  t^nk*  Hv»w  MtKHtthly  nm 

^Hvy^i\  xii  I1H.V  >v*v*^K^  ^.N4«4  ^«VH^  4mi  Wl  behind 

>\H«^«4  *■  \hti(     iN««'^*,  *ou*-  %vi<  XMtfK  >ilN|«^ .. 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  V  463 

Thrice  he  attempted  headlong  to  have  fain 
Full  on  his  foes,  and  aim'd  at  Casat's  Galley : 
With-held,  he  raves  on  you ;  cries,  He's  betray'd. 
Should  he  now  find  you. 

Alex,    Shun  him,  seek  your  safety, 
Till  you  can  clear  your  innocence. 

CUop,     I'll  sUy. 

Alex,     You  must  not,  haste  you  to  your  Monument, 
While  I  make  speed  to  Casar, 

Clecp,     Casar !    No, 
I  have  no  business  with  him. 

AUx,     I  can  work  him 
To  spare  your  life,  and  let  this  madman  perish. 

Cleop,     Base  fawning  Wretch  !  wouldst  thou  betray  him  too  ? 
Hence  from  my  sight,  I  will  not  hear  a  Trajrtor ; 
'Twas  thy  design  brought  all  this  mine  on  us ; 
Serapion^  thou  art  honest ;  counsel  me  : 
But  haste,  each  moment's  precious. 

Strap,     Retire ;  you  must  not  yet  see  Antony, 
He  who  began  this  mischief, 
'Tis  just  he  tempt  the  danger :  let  him  clear  you  ; 
And,  since  he  offer*  d  you  his  servile  tongue, 
To  gain  a  poor  precarious  life  from  Casar^ 
Let  him  expose  that  fawning  eloquence, 
And  speak  to  Antony, 

Alex,     O  Heavens !     I  dare  not, 
I  meet  my  certain  death. 

Cleop,     Slave,  thou  deserv'st  it 
Not  that  I  fear  my  Lord,  will  I  avoid  him  ; 
I  know  him  noble :  when  he  banish'd  me. 
And  thought  me  false,  he  scom'd  to  take  my  life ; 
But  I'll  be  justifi'd,  and  then  die  with  him. 

Alex,     O  pity  me,  and  let  me  follow  you. 

CUop,     To  death,  if  thou  stir  hence.     Speak,  if  thou  canst. 
Now  for  thy  life,  which  basely  thou  wou'dst  save ; 
While  mine  I  prize  at  this.     Come,  good  Serapion, 

[Exeunt  Qeop.  Serap.  Char.  Iras. 

Alex,     O  that  I  less  cou'd  fear  to  lose  this  being, 
Which,  like  a  Snow-ball,  in  my  coward  hand. 
The  more  'tis  grasp'd,  the  faster  melts  away. 
Poor  Reason !  what  a  wretched  aid  art  thou  ! 
For  still,  in  spigbt  of  thee, 
These  two  long  Lovers,  Soul  and  Body,  dread 
Their  final  separation.     Let  me  think : 
What  can  I  say,  to  save  my  self  from  death  ? 
No  matter  what  becomes  of  Cleopatra, 

Ant,  within.    Which  way  ?  where  ? 

Ven,  within.     This  leads  to  th'  Monument. 

Alex.    Ah  me !     I  hear  him  ;  yet  I'm  unprepar'd : 


464  APPENDIX 

My  gift  of  lying's  gone ; 

And  this  Court- Devil,  which  I  so  oft  have  rais'd. 
Forsakes  me  at  my  need.     I  dare  not  stay ; 

Yet  cannot  far  go  hence.  [Exit, 

Enter  Antony  and  Ventidius. 

Ant,     O  happy  Casar !     Thou  hast  men  to  lead : 
Think  not  'tis  thou  hast  conquer'd  Antony ; 
But  Rome  has  conquer'd  Egypt.     I'm  betray'd. 

Ven,     Curse  on  this  treach'rous  Train ! 
Their  Soil  and  Heav'n  infect  'em  all  with  baseness; 
And  their  young  Souls  come  tainted  to  the  World 
With  the  first  breath  they  draw. 

Ant,    Th'  original  Villain  sure  no  God  created ; 
He  was  a  Bastard  of  the  Sun,  by  Nile, 
Ap'd  into  Man ;  with  all  his  Mother's  Mud 
Crusted  about  his  Soul. 

Ven,     The  Nation  is 
One  Universal  Traitor ;  and  their  Queen 
The  very  Spirit  and  Extract  of  'em  all. 

Ant,     Is  there  yet  left 
A  possibility  of  aid  from  Valor  ? 
Is  there  one  God  unsworn  to  my  Destruction  ? 
The  least  unmortgag'd  hope  ?  for,  if  there  be, 
Methinks  I  cannot  fall  beneath  the  Fate 
Of  such  a  Boy  as  Casar, 
The  World's  one  half  is  yet  in  Antony ; 
And,  from  each  limb  of  it  that's  hew'd  away. 
The  Soul  comes  back  to  me. 

Ven,     There  yet  remain 
Three  Legions  in  the  Town.    The  last  assault 
Lopt  off  the  rest :  if  death  be  your  design, 
(As  I  must  wish  it  now)  these  are  sufficient 
To  make  a  heap  about  us  of  dead  Foes, 
An  honest  Pile  for  burial. 

Ant,     They're  enough. 
We'll  not  divide  our  Stars ;  but  side  by  side 
Fight  emulous  :  and  with  malicious  eyes 
Survey  each  other's  acts :  so  every  death 
Thou  giv'st,  I'll  take  on  me,  as  a  just  debt. 
And  pay  thee  back  a  Soul. 

Ven,     Now  you  shall  see  I  love  you.     Not  a  word 
Of  chiding  more.     By  my  few  hours  of  life, 
I  am  so  pleas' d  with  this  brave  Roman  Fate, 
That  I  wou'd  not  be  Casar^  to  out-live  you. 
When  we  put  off  this  flesh,  and  mount  together, 
I  shall  be  shown  to  all  th'  Etherial  crowd ; 
Lo,  this  is  he  who  dy'd  with  Antony. 

Ant.    Who  knows  but  we  may  pierce  through  all  their  Troops, 
And  reach  my  Veterans  yet  ?    'Tis  worth  the  tempting. 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  V  465 

.T  o'er-leap  this  Gnlph  of  Fate, 

And  leave  our  wond'ring  Destinies  behind. 

Enter  Alexas,  trembling, 

Ven,     See,  see,  that  Villain; 
See  Cleopatra  stampt  upon  that  face, 
With  all  her  cunning,  all  her  arts  of  fakhood ! 
How  she  looks  out  through  those  dissembling  eyes  t 
How  he  has  set  his  countenance  for  deceit  * 
And  promises  a  lye,  before  he  speaks ! 
Let  me  dispatch  him  first  [Drawings 

Alex,     O,  spare  me,  spare  me. 

Ant,     Hold  ;  he's  not  worth  your  killing.    On  thy  life, 
(Which  thou  may'st  keep,  because  I  scorn  to  take  it) 
No  syllable  to  justifie  thy  Queen ; 
Save  thy  base  tongue  its  office. 

Alex,    Sir,  she's  gone. 
Where  she  shall  never  be  molested  more 
By  Love,  or  you. 

Ant,     Fled  to  her  DoUabella  ! 
Die,  Traitor,  I  revoke  my  promise,  die.  [Gcittg  to  kill  him, 

Alex,     O  hold,  she  is  not  fled. 

Ant.    She  is  :  my  eyes 
Are  open  to  her  falshood ;  my  whole  life 
Has  been  a  golden  dream,  of  Love  and  Friendship. 
But,  now  I  wake,  I*m  like  a  Merchant,  rows' d 
From  soft  repose,  to  see  his  Vessel  sinking, 
And  all  his  Wealth  cast  o'er.     Ingrateful  Woman  I 
Who  follow'd  me,  but  as  the  Swallow  Summer, 
Hatching  her  young  ones  in  my  kindly  Beams, 
Singing  her  flatt'ries  to  my  morning  wake ; 
But,  now  my  Winter  comes,  she  spreads  her  wings. 
And  seeks  the  Spring  of  Casar, 

Alex,     Think  not  so : 
For  Fortunes  have,  in  all  things,  mixt  with  3rourB. 
Had  she  betray' d  her  Naval  force  to  Rome, 
How  easily  might  she  have  gone  to  Casar, 
Secure  by  such  a  bribe ! 

Ven,     She  sent  it  first. 
To  be  more  welcome  after. 

Ant,     'Tis  too  plain ; 
Else  wou'd  she  have  appeared,  to  clear  her  self. 

Alex,     Too  fatally  she  has ;  she  could  not  bear 
To  be  accus'd  by  you ;  but  shut  her  self 
Within  her  Monument :  look'd  down,  and  sigh'd ; 
While,  from  her  unchanged  face,  the  silent  tears 
Dropt,  as  they  had  not  leave,  but  stole  their  parting. 
Some  undistinguished  words  she  inly  murmur'd ; 
At  last,  she  rais'd  her  eyes ;  and,  with  such  looks 
As  dying  Lucrece  cast, 

30 


466  APPENDIX 


Ant,    M J  heart  forebodes.' 


Ven.    All  for  the  best :  go  on. 

Alex,     She  snatch'd  her  Ponyard, 
And,  ere  we  cou'd  prevent  the  fatal  blow, 
Plung'd  it  within  her  breast ;  then  turned  to  me. 
Go,  bear  my  Lord  (said  she)  my  last  Farewel ; 
And  ask  him  if  he  yet  suspect  my  Faith. 
More  she  was  saying,  but  death  rushM  betwixt. 
She  half  pronounced  your  Name  with  her  last  breath. 
And  bury'd  half  within  her. 

Ven,     Heav'n  be  praised. 

Ant,     Then  art  thou  innocent,  my  poor  dear  Love  ? 
And  art  thou  dead  ? 

0  those  two  words  t  their  sound  shou'd  be  divided  : 
Hadst  thou  been  false,  and  dy*d  ;  or  hadst  thou  livM, 

And  hadst  been  true .     But  Innocence  and  Death ! 

This  shows  not  well  above.     Then  what  am  I, 

The  Murderer  of  this  Truth,  this  Innocence  ! 
Thoughts  cannot  form  themselves  in  words  so  horrid 
As  can  express  my  guilt ! 

Ven,     Is't  come  to  this  ?    The  Gods  have  been  too  gracious ; 
And  thus  you  thank  'em  for't 

Ant,  to  Alex,     Why  stay*st  thou  here  ? 
Is  it  for  thee  to  spy  upon  my  Soul, 
And  see  its  inward  mourning  ?    Get  thee  hence ; 
Thou  art  not  worthy  to  behold,  what  now 
Becomes  a  Roman  Emperor  to  perform. 

Alex,  aside.     He  loves  her  still : 
His  grief  betrays  it.     Good  !     The  joy  to  find 
She's  yet  alive,  compleats  the  reconcilement 
I've  sav'd  my  self,  and  her.     But,  Oh  !  the  Romans  1 
Fate  comes  too  fast  upon  my  Wit, 
Hunts  me  too  hard,  and  meets  me  at  each  double.  [Exit, 

Ven,     Wou'd  she  had  dy'd  a  little  sooner  tho. 
Before  Ociavia  went ;  you  might  have  treated : 
Now  'twill  look  tame,  and  wou'd  not  be  receiv'd. 
Come,  rouze  your  self,  and  lets  die  warm  together. 

Ant,     I  will  not  fight ;  there's  no  more  work  for  War. 
The  bus'ness  of  my  angry  hours  is  done. 

Ven,     Casar  is  at  your  Gates. 

Ant,     Why,  let  him  enter ; 
He's  welcom  now. 

Ven,     What  Lethargy  has  crept  into  your  Soul  ? 

Ant.     'Tis  but  a  scorn  of  life,  and  just  desire 
To  free  my  self  from  bondage. 

Ven,     Do  it  bravely. 

Ani,     I  will ;  but  not  by  fighting.     O,  Ventidius  ! 
What  shou'd  I  fight  for  now  ?     My  Queen  is  dead. 

1  was  but  great  for  her ;  my  Pow'r,  my  Empire, 


DRYDEN^ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  V  467 

Were  but  my  Merchandise  to  buy  her  love ; 

And  conquer'd  Kings,  my  Factors.     Now  she's  dead, 

Let  Otsar  Uke  the  World, 

An  Empty  Circle,  since  the  Jewel's  gone 

Which  made  it  worth  my  strife  :  my  being's  nauseous ; 

For  all  the  bribes  of  life  are  gone  away. 

Ven,    Wou'd  you  be  taken  ? 

Ant,     Yes,  I  wou'd  be  taken ; 
But,  as  a  Roman  ought,  dead,  my  Ventidius : 
For  I'll  convey  my  Soul  from  Casar's  reach. 
And  lay  down  life  my  self.     'Tis  time  the  World 
Shou'd  have  a  Lord,  and  know  whom  to  obey. 
We  two  have  kept  its  homage  in  suspense. 
And  bent  the  Globe  on  whose  each  side  we  trod. 
Till  it  was  dinted  inwards :    Let  him  walk 
Alone  upon  't;  I'm  weary  of  my  part 
My  Torch  is  out ;  and  the  World  stands  before  me 
Like  a  black  Desart,  at  th'  approach  of  night : 
I'll  lay  me  down,  and  stray  no  farther  on. 

Ven.     I  cou'd  be  griev*d. 
But  that  I'll  not  out-live  you :  choose  your  death  ; 
For,  I  have  seen  him  in  such  various  shapes, 
I  care  not  which  I  take ;  I'm  only  troubled 
The  life  I  bear,  is  worn  to  such  a  rag, 
'Tis  scarce  worth  giving.     I  cou'd  wish  indeed 
We  threw  it  from  us  with  a  better  grace ; 
That,  like  two  Lyons  taken  in  the  Toils, 
We  might  at  least  thrust  out  our  paws,  and  wound 
The  Hunters  that  inclose  us. 

Ant,     I  have  thought  on't 
Ventidius f  you  must  live. 

Ven,     I  must  not.  Sir. 

Ant,     Wilt  thou  not  live,  to  speak  some  good  of  me? 
To  stand  by  my  fair  Fame,  and  guard  th'  approaches 
From  the  ill  Tongues  of  Men  ? 

Ven.     Who  shall  guard  mine. 
For  living  after  you  ? 

Ant,    Say,  I  command  it 

Ven.    If  we  die  well,  our  deaths  will  speak  themselves. 
And  need  no  living  witness. 

Ant.    Thou  hast  lov'd  me. 
And  fain  I  wou'd  reward  thee:  I  must  die ; 
Kill  me,  and  take  the  merit  of  my  death 
To  make  thee  Friends  with  Casar. 

Ven.     Thank  your  kindness. 
You  said  I  lov'd  you ;  and,  in  recompence, 
You  bid  me  turn  a  Traitor :  did  I  think 
You  wou'd  have  us'd  me  thus?  that  I  shou'd  die 
With  a  hard  thought  of  you  ? 


468  APPENDIX 

Ant,    Forgive  me,  Roman. 
Since  I  have  heard  of  CUopaira^^  death, 
My  reason  bears  no  rule  upon  my  tongue, 
But  lets  my  thoughts  break  all  at  random  out : 
I've  thought  better ;  do  not  deny  me  twice. 

Vitn,     By  Heav'n,  I  will  not 
Let  it  not  be  t'  out-live  you. 

Ant,     Kill  me  Brst, 
And  then  die  thou :  for  *tis  but  just  thou  serve 
Thy  Friend,  before  thy  self. 

Ven,    Give  me  your  hand. 
We  soon  shall  meet  again.     Now,  Farewel,  Emperor.  [Etnhrace, 

Methinks  that  word's  too  cold  to  be  my  last: 
Since  Death  sweeps  all  distinctions,  Farewel,  Friend. 

That's  all. 

I  will  not  make  a  bus'ness  of  a  trifle : 

And  yet  I  cannot  look  on  you,  and  kill  you ; 

Pray  turn  your  face. 

Ant,     I  do :  strike  home  be  sure. 

Ven,     Home,  as  my  Sword  will  reach.  [^KiUs  himself. 

Ant,     O,  thou  mistak'st ; 
That  wound  was  none  of  thine :  give  it  me  back : 
Thou  robb'st  me  of  my  death. 

Ven,     I  do  indeed ; 
But,  think  'tis  the  first  time  I  e'er  deceiv'd  you; 
If  that  may  plead  my  pardon.     And  you,  Gods, 
Forgive  me,  if  you  will ;  for  I  die  perjur'd. 
Rather  than  kill  my  Friend.  [Dies, 

Ant,     Farewel.     Ever  my  Leader,  eVn  in  death  t 
My  Queen  and  thou  have  got  the  start  of  me, 

And  Pm  the  lag  of  Honour. Gone  so  soon  ? 

Is  death  no  more?     He  us'd  him  carelessly, 

With  a  familiar  kindness :  ere  he  knock'd, 

Ran  to  the  door,  and  took  him  in  his  arms. 

As  who  shou'd  say,  Y'are  welcome  at  all  hours, 

A  Friend  need  give  no  warning.     Books  had  spoil'd  him ; 

For  all  the  Leam'd  are  Cowards  by  profession. 

*Tis  not  worth 

My  farther  thought ;  for  death,  for  ought  I  know. 

Is  but  to  think  no  more.     Here's  to  be  satisfi'd.  [Falls  on  his  Sword, 

I've  mist  my  heart.    O  unperforming  hand  I 

Thou  never  cou'dst  have  en'd  in  a  worse  time. 

My  Fortune  jades  me  to  the  last ;  and  death, 

Like  a  great  Man,  takes  state,  and  makes  me  wait 

For  my  admittance. [  TVampHng  tpitAim, 

Some  perhaps  from  Casar : 

If  he  shou'd  find  me  living,and  suspect 

That  I  plaid  booty  with  my  life  I     I'll  mend 

My  work,  ere  they  can  reach  me.  [Rises  upon  his  hues. 


DRYDEN—ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  V  469 

Enter  Cleopatra,  Charmion,  Iras. 
CUop,    "Where  is  my  Lord  ?  where  is  he  ? 
Char,    There  he  lies. 
And  dead  Ventiditu  by  him. 

Chop,     My  fears  were  Ptophets ;  I  am  come  too  late. 

0  that  accursed  Alexas  I  [Rum  to  him. 
Ant,     Art  thou  living  ? 

Or  am  I  dead  before  I  knew  ?  and  thou 
The  first  kind  Ghost  that  meets  me  ? 

CUop,     Help  me  seat  him. 
Send  quickly,  send  for  help.  [  T^ey  place  Aim  m  a  Chair. 

Ant.     I  am  answered. 
We  live  both.     Sit  thee  down,  my  Cleopatra : 
1*11  make  the  most  I  can  of  life,  to  stay 
A  moment  more  with  thee. 

Cleop.     How  is  it  with  you  ? 

Ant,    'Tis  as  with  a  man 
Removing  in  a  hurry ;  all  pack'd  up, 
But  one  dear  Jewel  that  his  haste  forgot ; 
And  he,  for  that,  returns  upon  the  spur : 
So  I  come  back,  for  thee. 

Cleop,    Too  long,  you  Heav'ns,  you  have  been  cruel  to  me ; 
Now  show  your  mended  Faith,  and  give  me  back 
His  fleeting  life. 

Ant,     It  will  not  be,  my  Love. 

1  keep  my  Soul  by  force. 
Say  but  thou  art  not  false. 

Cleop,     'Tis  now  too  late 
To  say  I'm  true  :  I'll  prove  It,  and  die  with  you. 
Unknown  to  me,  Alexas  feign' d  my  death  : 
Which,  when  I  knew,  I  hasted,  to  prevent 
This  fatal  consequence.     My  Fleet  betray'd 
Both  you  and  me. 

Ant.     And  Dollabella, 

Cleop,    Scarce  esteem'd  before  he  loVd ;  but  hated  now. 

Ant,    Enough  :  my  life's  not  long  enough  for  more. 
Thou  sayst  thou  wilt  come  after :  I  believe  thee ; 
For  I  can  now  believe  whate'er  thou  sayst. 
That  we  may  part  more  kindly. 

Cleop.     I  will  come : 
Doubt  not,  my  life,  I'll  come,  and  quickly  too : 
Casar  shall  triumph  o'er  no  part  of  thee. 

Ant.     But  grieve  not,  while  thou  stay'st 
My  last  disastrous  times : 
Think  we  have  had  a  clear  and  glorious  day ; 
And  Heav*n  did  kindly  to  delay  the  storm 
Just  till  our  close  of  ev'ning.     Ten  years  love. 
And  not  a  moment  lost,  but  all  improv'd 
To  th'  utmost  joys :    What  Ages  have  we  liv'd  ? 


470 


APPENDIX 

And  now  to  die  each  others ;  and,  so  dying. 
While  hand  in  hand  we  walk  in  Groves  below, 
Whole  Troops  of  Lovers  Ghosts  shall  flock  aboat  us. 
And  all  the  Train  be  ours. 

Cleop.     Your  words  are  like  the  Notes  of  dying  Swans, 
Too  sweet  to  last.     Were  there  so  many  hours 
For  your  unkindness,  and  not  one  for  love  ? 

Ant,     No,  not  a  minute. This  one  kiss more  worth 

Than  all  I  leave  to  Casar.  [Du 

Cleop,     O,  tell  me  so  again, 
And  take  ten  thousand  kisses,  for  that  word. 
My  Lord,  my  Lord  :  speak,  if  you  yet  have  being ; 
Sigh  to  me,  if  you  cannot  speak ;  or  cast 
One  look  :    Do  any  thing  that  shows  you  live. 

Iras,     He's  gone  too  far,  to  hear  you ; 
And  this  you  see,  a  lump  of  sensless  Clay, 
The  leavings  of  a  Soul. 

Char,     Remember,  Madam, 
He  charg'd  you  not  to  grieve. 

Cleop.     And  I'll  obey  him. 
I  have  not  lov'd  a  Roman  not  to  know 
What  should  become  his  Wife ;  his  Wife,  my  Ckarmion ; 
For  'tis  to  that  high  Title  I  aspire, 
And  now  I'll  not  die  less.     Let  dull  Octavia 
Survive,  to  mourn  him  dead  :  my  Nobler  Fate 
Shall  knit  our  Spousals  with  a  tie  too  strong 
For  Roman  Laws  to  break. 

Iras.     Will  you  then  die  ? 

Cleop,     Why  shou'dst  thou  make  that  question  ? 

Iras,     Casar  is  merciful. 

Cleop,     Let  him  be  so 
To  those  that  want  his  mercy  :  my  poor  Lord 
Made  no  such  Covenant  with  him,  to  spare  me 
When  he  was  dead.     Yield  me  to  Otsar'%  pride  ? 
What,  to  be  led  in  triumph  through  the  Streets, 
A  spectacle  to  base  Plebeian  eyes ; 
While  some  dejected  Friend  of  Antony t^ 
Qose  in  a  comer,  shakes  his  head,  and  mutters 
A  secret  curse  on  her  who  niin'd  him  ? 
I'll  none  of  that. 

Char,     Whatever  you  resolve, 
I'll  follow  ev'n  to  death. 

Iras.     I  only  fear'd 
For  you ;  but  more  shon'd  fear  to  live  without  yoa. 

Cleop.     Why,  now  'tis  as  it  shou'd  be.     Quick,  my  Friends, 
Dispatch  ;  ere  this,  the  Town's  in  Casar' s  hands : 
My  Lord  looks  down  concern' d,  and  fears  my  stay. 
Lest  I  shou'd  be  surpriz'd  ; 
Keep  him  not  waiting  for  his  love  too  long. 


DRYDEN—ALL  FOR  LOVE,  ACT  V  471 

You,  Charmion,  bring  my  Crown  and  richest  Jewels, 
With  *em,  the  Wreath  of  Victory  I  made 
(Vain  Augury  !)  for  him  who  now  lies  dead; 
You,  Iras,  bring  the  cure  of  all  our  ills. 

Iras,     The  Aspicks,  Madam? 

Cleop,     Must  I  bid  you  twice  ?  [Exeunt  Char,  tmd  Iras. 

'Tis  sweet  to  die,  when  they  wou'd  force  life  on  me, 
To  rush  into  the  dark  aboad  of  death. 
And  seize  him  first ;  if  he  be  like  my  Love, 
He  is  not  frightful  sure. 
We're  now  alone,  in  secresie  and  silence ; 
And  is  not  this  like  Lovers  ?     I  may  kiss 
These  pale,  cold  lips ;   Octarna  does  not  see  me ; 
And,  Oh  !  'tis  better  far  to  have  him  thus, 

Than  see  him  in  her  arms. O  welcome,  welcome. 

Enter  Charmion,  Iras. 

Char,     What  must  be  done  ? 

Cleop,     Short  Ceremony,  Friends  ; 
But  yet  it  must  be  decent.     Plrst,  this  Laurel 
Shall  crown  my  Hero's  head  :  he  fell  not  basely, 
Nor  left  his  Shield  behind  him.    Only  thou 
Cou'dst  triumph  o'er  thy  self;  and  thou  alone 
Wert  worthy  so  to  triumph. 

Char.     To  what  end 
These  Ensigns  of  your  Pomp  and  Royalty  ? 

Cleop,     Dull,  that  thou  art !  why,  'tis  to  meet  my  LoTe; 
As  when  I  saw  him  first,  on  Cydnos  bank, 
All  sparkling,  like  a  Goddess ;  so  adom'd, 
I'll  find  him  once  again  :  my  second  Spousals 
Shall  match  my  first,  in  Glory.     Haste,  haste,  both, 
And  dress  the  Bride  of  Antony, 

Char.     'Tis  done. 

Cleop,     Now  seat  me  by  my  Lord.     I  claim  this  place ; 
For  I  must  conquer  desar  too,  like  him. 
And  win  my  share  o'th' World.     Hail,  you  dear  Relicks 
Of  my  Immortal  Love ! 
O  let  no  Impious  hand  remove  you  hence ; 
But  rest  for  ever  here :  let  Egypt  give 
His  death  that  peace,  which  it  deny'd  his  life. 
Reach  me  the  Casket 

Iras,     Underneath  the  fruit  the  Aspick  lies. 

Cleop,  putting  aside  the  leaves,     Welcom,  thou  kind  Deceiver ! 
Thou  best  of  Thieves ;  who,  with  an  easie  key. 
Dost  open  life,  and,  unperceiv'd  by  us, 
Ev'n  steal  us  from  our  selves  :  discharging  so 
Death's  dreadful  office,  better  than  himself, 
Touching  our  limbs  so  gently  into  slumber, 
That  Death  stands  by,  deceiv'd  by  his  own  Image, 
And  thinks  himself  but  Sleep. 


472  'APPENDIX 

Scrap,  within.     The  Queen,  where  is  she? 
The  Town  is  yielded,  Otiat^h  at  the  Gates. 

CUop.     He  comes  too  late  t*  invade  the  Rights  of  Death. 
Haste,  bare  my  Arm,  and  rouze  the  Serpent*s  fury.  \Hoids  otU  her  Arm.,  amd 

Coward  Flesh dram  it  back. 

Wou'dst  thou  conspire  with  Casar,  to  betray  me, 

As  thou  wert  none  of  mine  ?    I'll  force  thee  to't. 

And  not  be  sent  by  him, 

But  bring  my  self  my  Soul  to  Antony,  [  Turns  aside^  and  then  sJkams 

Take  hence  ;  the  work  is  done.  Jkcr  Arm  bUody„ 

Scrap,  within.     Break  ope  the  door, 
And  guard  the  Traitor  well. 

Char,     The  next  is  ours. 

Ir€u,     Now,  Charmion^  to  be  worthy 
Of  our  great  Queen  and  Mistress.  [  They  apply  the  Aspicks, 

Cleop,     Already,  Death,  I  feel  thee  in  my  Veins ; 
I  go  with  such  a  will  to  find  my  Lord, 
That  we  shall  quickly  meet. 
A  heavy  numness  creeps  through  every  limb. 
And  now  'tis  at  my  head :  my  eye-lids  fall, 
And  my  dear  Love  is  vanished  in  a  mist 
Where  shall  I  find  him,  where  ?     O  turn  me  to  him. 

And  lay  me  on  his  breast. Otsar^  thy  worst ; 

Now  part  us,  if  thou  canst.     (Dies,)     Iras  sinks  down  at  her  feei^  and  dies; 

Charmion  stands  behind  her  Chair ^  as  dresdmg  her  head. 
Enter  Serapion,  two  Priests,  Alezas  bounds  Egyptians, 

2  Priests,     Behold,  Serapion,  what  havock  Death  has  made  1 

Serap.     *Twas  what  I  fear'd. 
Charmion,  is  this  well  done  ? 

Char,     Yes,  'tis  well  done,  and  like  a  Queen,  the  last 
Of  her  great  Race :  I  follow  her.  [Sinks  daam;  Dies„ 

Alexas.     'Tis  true. 
She  has  done  well :  much  better  thus  to  die. 
Than  live  to  make  a  Iloly-day  in  Rome, 

Serap.     See,  see  how  the  Lovers  sit  in  State  together, 
As  they  were  giving  Laws  to  half  Mankind. 
Th'  impression  of  a  smile  left  in  her  face, 
Shows  she  dy'd  pleas' d  with  him  for  whom  she  liv'd. 
And  went  to  charm  him  in  another  World. 
Oesar^s  just  entring ;  grief  has  now  no  leisure. 
Secure  that  Villain,  as  our  pledge  of  safety 
To  grace  th'  Imperial  Triumph.     Sleep,  blest  Pair, 
Secure  from  humane  chance,  long  Ages  out, 
While  all  the  Storms  of  Fate  fly  o'er  your  Tomb; 

And  Fame,  to  late  Posterity,  shall  tell, 

No  Lovers  liv'd  so  great,  or  dy'd  so  well. 

[Hereupon  follows  an  Epilogue,  in  about  thirty  lines,  of  purely  local  and  taofo- 
rary  interest.] 


REMARKS  ON  ALL  FOR  LdVE—SCOTT 


REMARKS  OH  ALL  FOR  LOVE 


473 


Sir  Walter  Scott  {^Introduction  to  •  All  for  Love,*  Dryden's  Works^  V,  287, 
London,  1808)  :  The  first  |x>int  of  comparison  [between  Shakespeare's  Play  and 
Dryden's]  is  the  general  conduct,  or  plot,  of  the  tragedy.  .  .  .  Shakespeare,  with  the 
license  peculiar  to  his  age  and  character,  had  diffused  the  action  of  his  play  over 
Italy,  Greece,  and  Egypt ;  but  Dryden,  who  was  well  aware  of  the  advantage  to  be 
derived  from  a  simplicity  and  concentration  of  plot,  has  laid  every  scene  in  the  city 
of  Alexandria.  By  this  he  guarded  the  audience  from  that  vague  and  puzzling  dis- 
traction which  must  necessarily  attend  a  violent  change  of  place.  It  is  a  mistake  to 
suppose  that  the  argument  in  favour  of  the  unities  depends  upon  preserving  the 
deception  of  the  scene  ;  they  are  necessarily  connected  with  the  intelligibility  of  the 
piece.  It  may  be  true,  that  no  spectator  supposes  that  the  stage  before  him  is  actu- 
ally the  court  of  Alexandria ;  yet,  when  he  has  once  made  up  his  mind  to  let  it  pass 
as  such  during  the  representation,  it  is  a  cruel  tax,  not  merely  on  his  imagination, 
but  on  his  powers  of  comprehension,  if  the  scene  be  suddenly  transferred  to  a  dis- 
tant country.  Time  is  lost  before  he  can  form  new  associations,  and  reconcile  their 
bearings  with  those  originally  presented  to  him,  and  if  he  be  a  person  of  slow  com- 
prehension, or  happens  to  lose  any  part  of  the  dialogrue,  announcing  the  changes,  the 
whole  becomes  unintelligible  confusion.  In  this  respect,  and  in  discarding  a  num- 
ber of  uninteresting  characters,  the  plan  of  Dryden's  play  must  be  unequivocally 
preferred  to  that  of  Shakespeare  in  point  of  coherence,  unity,  and  simplicity.  It  is 
a  natural  consequence  of  this  more  artful  arrangement  of  the  story,  that  Dryden  con- 
tents himself  with  the  concluding  scene  of  Antony's  history,  instead  of  introducing 
the  incidents  of  the  war  with  Cneius  Pompey,  the  negotiation  with  Lepidus,  death 
of  his  first  wife,  and  other  circumstances,  which,  in  Shakespeare,  only  tend  to  dis- 
tract our  attention  from  the  main  interest  of  the  drama.  The  unity  of  time,  as 
necessary  as  that  of  place  to  the  intelligibility  of  the  drama,  has,  in  like  manner, 
been  happily  attained ;  and  an  interesting  event  is  placed  before  the  audience  with 
no  other  change  of  place,  and  no  greater  lapse  of  time,  than  can  be  readily  adapted 
to  an  ordinary  imagination.  But,  having  given  Dryden  the  praise  of  superior  address 
in  managing  the  story,  I  fear  he  must  be  pronounced  in  most  other  respects  inferior 
to  his  grand  prototype.  Antony,  the  principal  character  in  both  plays,  is  incompar- 
ably grander  in  that  of  Shakespeare.  The  majesty  and  generosity  of  the  military 
hero  is  happily  expressed  by  both  poets  ;  but  the  awful  ruin  of  grandeur,  undermined 
by  passion,  and  tottering  to  its  fall,  is  far  more  striking  in  the  Antony  of  Shake- 
speare. Love,  it  is  true,  is  the  predominant,  but  it  is  not  the  sole  ingredient  in  his 
character.  It  has  usurped  possession  of  his  mind,  but  is  assailed  by  his  original  pas- 
sions, ambition  of  power,  and  thirst  for  military  fame.  He  is,  therefore,  often,  and 
it  should  seem  naturally  represented,  as  feeling  for  the  downfall  of  his  glory  and 
power,  even  so  intensely  as  to  withdraw  his  thoughts  from  Cleopatra,  unless  con- 
sidered as  the  cause  of  his  ruin.  Thus,  in  the  scene  in  which  he  compares  himself 
to  'black  Vesper's  pageants,'  he  runs  on  in  a  train  of  fantastic  and  melancholy 
similes,  having  relation  only  to  his  fallen  state,  till  the  mention  of  Egypt  suddenly 
recalls  the  idea  of  Cleopatra.  But  Dryden  has  taken  a  different  view  of  Antony's 
character,  and  more  closely  approaching  to  his  title  of  All  for  Love,  *  He  seems  not 
now  that  awful  Antony.'  His  whole  thoughts  and  being  are  dedicated  to  his  fatal 
passion;  and  though  a  spark  of  resentment  is  occasionally  struck  out  by  the 
reproaches  of  Ventidius,  he  instantly  relapses  into  love-sick  melancholy.     The  fol- 


I 

! 
1 


474  APPENDIX 


lowing  bcantifiil  speech  exhibits  the  romauice  of  despuring  low,  witbwit  the  deep 
and  mingled  passion  of  a  dishooonred  soldier,  and  dethxooed  laipcim  :  [^AIZ  fjr 
Letr :  *  Am/.  Lie  there,  tboa  shadow  of  an  Emperor.  .  .  .  And  take  lae  lor  their 
'  fellow-citizen,*  p.  417.]  Even  when  Antonj  is  6nallj  niiaed,  the  power  of  jealouf 
is  called  opon  to  complete  his  despair,  and  be  is  less  sen5fDt«  to  the  idtx  cf  Cjesh's 
soccesaful  arms  thia  to  the  risque  of  Dolabella's  riTalling  him  in  the  afiecdoos  of 
Cleopatra.  It  is  true,  the  Antonj  of  Shakespeare  alio  starts  iaa>  forr,  spon  Qco- 
1  patra  permitting  Thyreus  to  k;ss  her  hand ;  bat  this  is  not  jeakxuy ;  it  is  pride 

^  ofiended,  that  she,  fjr  whom  he  had  sacrificed  his  glory  and  emptre,  shoold  x'readj 

I  begin  to  cooit  the  firoor  of  the  cooqLieror,  and  rcachsafe  her  haad  to  be  qlntrd  br 

*  a  'jack  of  Cesar's.*     Hence  Eoobarbos,  the  witness  of  the  scene,  alludes  ioHBe- 

J  diatelr  to  the  fizrj  of  mortified  ambition  and  filling  power :  *  'Tis  teller  plajTcg  widi 

'i  *a  Ix>n*s  wbelp.  Than  with  an  old  one  dring.'  .  .  .  Having,  however,  adopted  an 

of  .\ntonT's  character,  rather  saitable  to  romance  than  to  namre,  or  hisaorr,  wi 
_  not  deny  Drrxien  the  praise  of  haxin^  ex  laisitelr  brooght  oct  the  pictsxe  he  irrfrwVd 

to  draw.  He  has  infcrmed  cs,  that  th;s  was  the  on.T  play  written  to  ptease  himself; 
and  he  has  certainly  exerted  in  it  the  iH  force  of  h^  incomparable  gefiiiUk.  Antoay 
is  throogbout  the  piece  what  the  author  meant  him  to  be :  a  ricda  to  the  oomipottBoe 
of  love,  cr  rather  to  dte  infatnation  of  oce  en^jossiiig  pasticci. 

In  the  Qecpatra  of  Dryden,  there  ts  grraily  less  spcric  and  ongtnaliry  thaa  in 
Shakespeare's^     The  preparat»n  of  the  latter  for  death  has  a  grandeor  whica  pics  to 
shame  the  same  scene  in  Dryien,  and  serves  to  support  the  inierest  dsris^  the  whoSe 
fifth  act.  ai:hcQgh  Antony  has  died  in  the  cooclusioa  of  the  kxxnh.    No  cxrciSBStaace 
can  more  highly  ericce  the  power  of  Shakespeare's  genius,  in  sptc  of  his  crregvlsr- 
ities  :  sicce  the  coodsskxi  in  Dryden.  where  both  Lorers  di^  in  the  same  sccoe,  and 
after  a  recmciliadon,  is  innnitely  more  artfol  ard  becer  adai^ted  to  thearzical  esect. 
In  the  character  cf  Venlidiiiiw  Dryden  has  tilled  op,  witi  ability,  the  rwie  sketches 
which  Shakespeare  has  thrown  oc  in  those  of  Scrra  [a.-]  scd  Eros.     Tbe  lo^gh 
old  Roman  soldier  is  pamted  with  great  trzth ;  and  the  qaarrri  betwixt  him  and 
Antony,  en  the  first  act,  is  eqoal  t^  any  sicgie  sceae  thai  ccr  aathoc  ever  wtaie, 
excepting,  perhaps^  that  becw;xt  Sebosrsn  and  Donx  ;  an  ocinkm  in  which  the 
jodgment  of  the  critic  cnrnn-n-les  with  rhar  of  the  poet.     It  is  a  pity,  as  has  often  bees 
remarked,  that  this  dalogce  occurs  so  early  in  the  pl^y,  since  what  follows  is  Deoe»> 
sanbr  inJierior  in  force.     Drrden.  while  writing  this  vmr,  had  saqacstMoablT  m 
his  recouectwn  the  «^aarrel  betwixt  Btucns  ami  CasRss,  whkh  was  jcsdy  so  grvit  a 
£iToante  in  his  time,  and  to  which  he  had  referred  as  inimitahle  ia  his  pfokgne  IP 
Amrmj-Zif&i^.      The  inferior  characters  are  better    sapported   in  Drrdea  Aaa  ia 
We  have  00  Lew  baabooiezy  in  the  fixtoez.  soch  as  disgraces  Eao- 
asd  is  hardly  redeeased  by  his  aSectxng  cacutzoche.     Even  the  Egvpcaa 
ALexas  acqoizcs  seme  respectability,  ftcm.  hts  patnoCic  attachment  to  the  iniBests  of 
his  ccimtry.  and  firuot  his  skill  as  a  w«ly  ccortxer.  ...  The  Octarsa  cf  Drpdes  is  1 
Bra:h  Dcce  important  pecsoooge  thaa  in  the  Am^mt  smd  Catpatr^  cf  SkkeapOBC 
She  KS«.  however,  nore  ccui  asd  nsomiahl^  ;  fix,  ia  the  tczt  short  scenes  in  vixk 
dhf  Octxrii  cf  Si^rakespeare  arpears^  she  is  riaccd  in  r'^'^^^  aa  intercsda^  point  of 
rtew.     Bat  Dryden  has  himself  inaamed  «s>  that  he  vrxs  arprehemite  the  jasacerf 
a  wifie*  s  daoB  ttpoa  her  hsscaiKi  wr:iui  diaw  dfee  *'"^'^**^*  to  her  side«  aad  kflCA 
^Rtr  tnierest  ia  the  lever  aod  die  mistresa.     He  seems  acsorfiagfy  to  hare  tfafiedlr 
Wweied  the  character  cf  the  inpied  *ZH:firviB«  who.  ia  her  '■■■*»**»«'^  tu^anli  hs  k^ 
much  daCT  aai  Ixtde  love :  mi  plaialT  iiiiiiMii  i_  Am  ber  reOiiafc ^ 


REMARKS  ON  ALL  FOR  ZC>  FjE:— CAMPBELL         475 

conduct  flows  from  a  due  regard  to  her  own  reputation,  rather  than  from  attachment 
to  Antony's  person,  or  sympathy  with  him  in  his  misfortunes.  It  happens,  there- 
fore, with  Octavia,  as  with  all  other  very  good  selfish  kind  of  people ;  we  think  it 
uimecessary  to  feel  any  thing  for  her,  as  she  is  obviously  capable  of  taking  very  good 
care  of  herself.  I  must  not  omit,  that  her  scolding  scene  with  Cleopatra,  although 
anxiously  justified  by  the  author  in  the  preface,  seems  too  coarse  to  be  in  character, 
and  is  a  glaring  exception  to  the  general  good  taste  evinced  throughout  the  rest  of 
the  piece.  ...  In  judging  betwixt  these  celebrated  passages,  [the  descriptions  by 
Shakespeare  and  by  Dryden  of  Cleopatra  on  the  Cydnus]  we  feel  almost  afraid  to 
avow  a  preference  of  Dryden,  founded  partly  upon  the  easy  flow  of  the  vexse,  which 
seems  to  soften  with  the  subject,  but  chiefly  upon  the  beauty  of  the  language  and 
imagery,  which  is  flowery  without  diflusiveness,  and  rapturous  without  hyperbole.  I 
fear  Shakespeare  cannot  be  exculpated  from  the  latter  fault ;  yet  I  am  sensible,  it  is 
by  sifting  his  beauties  from  his  conceits  that  his  imitator  has  been  enabled  to  excel 
him.  It  is  impossible  to  bestow  too  much  praise  on  the  beautiful  passages  which 
occur  so  frequently  in  All  for  Love,  I  content  myself  with  extracting  the  sublime 
and  terrific  description  of  an  omen  presaging  the  downfall  of  Egypt  ['  Scrap,  Last 
night,  between  the  Hours  of  Twelve  and  One.  .  .  .  And  so  unfinished  left  the  horrid 
Scene.*  p.  412.] 

T.  Campbell  (p.  Ixi) :  Dryden' s  All  for  Love  was  regarded  by  himself  as  his 
masterpiece,  and  is  by  no  means  devoid  of  merit ;  but  so  inferior  is  it  to  the  prior 
drama,  as  to  make  it  disgraceful  to  British  taste  for  one  hundred  years  that  the  former 
absolutely  banished  the  latter  from  the  stage.  A  French  critic  calls  Great  Britain 
the  island  of  Shakspeare's  idolaters ;  yet  so  it  happens,  in  this  same  island,  that  Dry- 
den's  All  for  Love  has  been  acted  ten  times  oftener  than  Shakspeare's  Antony  and 
Cleopatra*  Dryden' s  Mark  Antony  is  a  weak  voluptuary  from  first  to  last.  Not  a 
sentence  of  manly  virtue  is  ever  uttered  by  him  that  seems  to  come  from  himself ;  and 
whenever  he  expresses  a  moral  feeling,  it  appears  not  to  have  grown  up  in  his  own 
nature,  but  to  have  been  planted  there  by  the  influence  of  his  friend  Ventidius,  like  a 
flower  in  a  child's  garden,  only  to  withec  and  take  no  root.  Shakspeare's  Antony 
is  a  very  different  being.  When  he  hears  of  the  death  of  his  first  wife,  Fulvia,  his 
exclamation  '  There's  a  great  spirit  gone  I '  and  his  reflections  on  his  own  enthral- 
ment  by  Cleopatra,  mark  the  residue  of  a  noble  mind.  A  queen,  a  siren,  a  Shak- 
speare's Cleopatra  alone  could  have  entangled  Mark  Antony,  whilst  an  ordinary 
wanton  could  have  enslaved  Dryden's  hero. 

Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  170)  :  Dryden  has  committed  a  great  mistake  in  bringing 
Octavia  and  her  children  on  the  scene,  and  in  inmiediate  contact  with  Qeopatra.  To 
have  thus  violated  the  truth  of  history  f  might  have  been  excusable,  but  to  sacrifice 
the  truth  of  nature  and  dramatic  propriety,  to  produce  a  mere  stage  effect,  was  unpar- 
donable.    In  order  to  preserve  the  unity  of  interest,  he  has  falsified  the  character  of 

*  It  ought  to  be  kept  in  remembrance,  nevertheless,  that  the  inconstant  represen- 
tations of  a  popular  dramatic  poet's  pieces  on  the  stage  is  not  a  proof  of  his  popularity 
having  expired,  or  being  even  on  the  decline.  The  frequenters  of  the  theatre  demand 
variety.  Moliire  is  as  much  as  ever  a  favourite  of  France,  yet  the  pieces  of  other 
comic  writers  are  oftener  represented. 

f  Octavia  was  never  in  Egypt 


4/6 


APPENDIX 


Octavia  as  well  as  that  of  Cleopatra :  he  has  presented  us  with  a  regular  scolding  match 
between  the  rivals,  in  which  they  come  sweeping  up  to  each  other  from  opposite  sides 
of  the  stage,  with  their  respective  trains,  like  two  pea-hens  in  a  passion.  Shakspeare 
would  no  more  have  brought  his  captivating,  brilliant,  but  meretricious  Qeopotra  into 
immediate  comparison  with  the  noble  and  chaste  simplicity  of  Octavia,  than  a  con* 
noisseur  in  art  would  have  placed  Canova*s  Dansatrice,  beautiful  as  it  is,  beside  the 
Athenian  Melpomene,  or  the  Vestal  of  the  Capitol. 

James  Russell  Lowell  {Among  my  Books ^  p.  57,  Boston,  1870)  :  All  for  Lavt 
is,  in  many  respects,  a  noble  play,  and  there  are  few  finer  scenes,  whether  in  the 
conception  or  the  carrying  out,  than  that  between  Antony  and  Ventidius  in  the 
first  act. 

John  Churton  Collins  (Essays  and  Studies^  p.  36,  London,  1895)  *  1*o  <^<>™- 
pare  All  for  Love  with  Antony  and  Cleopatra  would  be  to  compare  works  which,  in 
all  that  pertains  to  the  essence  of  poetry  and  tragedy,  differ  not  in  degree  merely  but 
in  kind.  And  yet  Dryden's  tragedy,  even  from  a  dramatic  point  of  view,  is,  with 
three  or  four  exceptions,  superior  to  anything  produced  by  his  contemporaries.  If  his 
Qeopatra  is  wretched,  his  Antony  is  powerfully  sketched.  The  altercation  between 
Antony  and  Ventidius,  though  modelled  too  closely  on  that  between  Brutus  and 
Cassius  in  Julius  Casar,  is  a  noble  piece  of  dialectical  rhetoric,  while  the  scene 
between  Cleopatra  and  Octavia  is  perhaps  finer  than  anything  which  the  stage  had 
seen  since  Massinger. 

Thomas  R.  Lounsbury  (Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist,  p.  97.     New  Yotk, 
1901) :  Dryden's  whole  play  is  made  to  turn  upon  the  infatuation  for  QeopAtia 
which  has  taken  possession  of  the  Roman  commander,  and  against  the  force  of  which 
the  lo3ralty  of  Ventidius  struggles  to  no  purpose.     There  are  few  things  said  and 
fewer  things  done  by  Antony  which  remind  us  of  the  great  general,  of  the  dishoooied 
soldier,  of  the  fallen  master  of  half  the  world.     He  is  little  more  than  a  sentimental 
love-sick  swain,  while  the  Egyptian  queen  has  lost  nearly  every  one  of  the  character- 
istics with  which  she  has  impressed  the  ages,  and  is  exhibited  to  us  as  displaying  the 
behavior  of  a  tender-hearted,  affectionate,  and  wholly  romantic  school-gixi.    Scott, 
who  is  at  his  worst  in  his  comparison  of  this  play  with  Shakespeare's,  assures  ns 
that  its  plan  must  be  preferred  to  that  of  the  latter's  on  the  score  of  coherence,  unity, 
and  simplicity ;  and,  further,  that  as  a  consequence  of  the  more  artful  arrangement 
of  the  story,  the  unity  of  time,  like  that  of  place,  so  necessary  to  the  intelligibility 
of  the  drama,  has  been  happily  attained.     It  is  the  last  assertion  alone  which  con- 
cerns us  here.     How  has  this  unity  of  time  been  attained  ?     It  has  been  preserfed 
by  the  studious  suppression  of  all  reference  whatever  to  its  passage.     Events  ate 
crowded  into  it  which  history  is  not  alone  in  assuring  the  scholar  did  not  happen  in 
the  space  assigned :  common  sense  further  assures  everybody  they  could  not  ponhff 
so  have  happened.     Numerous  minor  incidents,  however  important,  are  not  oeott- 
sary  to  be  considered  in  the  examination  of  the  play.     But  in  this  one  day  Antony 
goes  out  to  fight  a  great  batde.     We  only  hear  of  it ;  there  is  no  representatioD  of  it 
On  his  return  he  reports  that  five  thousand  of  his  foes  have  been  slain.    As  batdet 
go  in  this  world,  the  mere  despatching  of  so  laige  a  number  of  men  would  encroadi 
heavily  upon  the  time  allotted.     Further,  at  a  later  period  in  this  one  day,  the  EQfp* 
tian  fieet  sets  out  to  attack  the  enemy.    Instead  of  fighting  the  Romans  it  goes  ovff 


ENGLISH  CRITICISMS-JOHNSON  477 

to  them.  Then  follow  the  consequences  of  defeat  and  despair.  This  is  the  happj 
attainment  of  the  same  old  spurious  unity  of  time,  which  cheats  our  understanding 
at  the  cost  of  our  attention.  Yet,  though  marked  by  these  and  other  defects.  Dry- 
den's  play  is,  after  its  kind,  an  excellent  one.  There  are  in  it  passages  of  great 
power,  which  will  explain  the  favor  with  which  it  has  been  held  by  many.  Had  its 
author  been  gifted  with  dramatic  genius,  as  he  was  not,  he  would  doubtless  have 
made  it  far  more  effective.  But  under  the  limitations  imposed  by  the  critical  canons 
he  accepted,  neither  he  nor  any  one  else  could  have  drawn  the  picture  of  life  which 
we  find  in  the  wonderful  corresponding  creation  of  the  great  poet  of  human  nature. 


ENGLISH   CRITICISM 


Dr  Johnson  :  This  play  keeps  curiosity  always  busy,  and  the  passions  always  inter- 
ested.  The  continual  hurry  of  the  action,  the  variety  of  incidents,  and  the  quick  suc- 
cession of  one  personage  to  another,  call  the  mind  forward  without  intermission  from 
the  first  Act  to  the  last.  But  the  power  of  delighting  is  derived  principally  from  the 
frequent  changes  of  the  scene ;  for,  except  the  feminine  arts,  some  of  which  are  too 
low,  which  distinguish  Cleopatra,  no  character  is  very  strongly  discriminated.  Upton, 
who  did  not  easily  miss  what  he  desired  to  find,  has  discovered  that  the  language  of 
Antony  is,  with  great  skill  and  learning,  made  pompous  and  superb,  according  to  his 
real  practice.  But  I  think  his  diction  not  distinguishable  from  that  of  others :  the 
most  tumid  speech  in  the  play  is  that  which  Caesar  makes  to  Octavia.  The  events, 
of  which  the  principal  are  described  according  to  history,  are  produced  without  any 
art  of  connection  or  care  of  disposition. 

W.  Hazlitt  (p.  95)  :  This  is  a  very  noble  play.  Though  not  in  the  first  class  of 
Shakespear's  productions,  it  stands  next  to  them,  and  is,  we  think,  the  finest  of  his 
Historical  Plays,  that  is,  of  those  in  which  he  made  poetry  the  organ  of  history,  and 
assumed  a  certain  tone  of  character  and  sentiment,  in  conformity  to  known  facts, 
instead  of  trusting  to  his  observations  of  general  nature  or  to  the  unlimited  indulgence 
of  his  own  fancy.  What  he  has  added  to  the  history,  is  upon  a  par  with  it.  His 
genius  was,  as  it  were,  a  match  for  history  as  well  as  nature,  and  could  grapple  at 
will  with  either.  This  play  is  full  of  that  pervading  comprehensive  power  by  which 
the  poet  could  always  make  himself  master  of  time  and  circumstances.  It  presents 
a  fine  picture  of  Roman  pride  and  Eastern  magnificence :  and  in  the  struggle  between 
the  two,  the  empire  of  the  world  seems  suspended,  'like  the  swan's  down-feather, 
'That  stands  upon  the  swell  at  full  of  tide.  And  neither  way  inclines.'  The  char- 
acters breathe,  move,  and  live.  Shakespear  does  not  stand  reasoning  on  what  his 
characters  would  do  or  say,  but  at  once  becomes  them,  and  speaks  and  acts  for  them. 
He  does  not  present  us  with  groups  of  stage-puppets  or  poetical  machines  making  set 
speeches  on  human  life,  and  acting  from  a  calculation  of  ostensible  motives,  but  he 
brings  living  men  and  women  on  the  scene,  wl^o  speak  and  act  from  real  feelings, 
according  to  the  ebbs  and  flows  of  passion,  without  the  least  tincture  of  the  pedantry 
of  logic  or  rhetoric.  Nothing  is  made  out  by  inference  and  analogy,  by  climax  and 
antithesis,  but  every  thing  takes  place  just  as  it  would  have  done  in  reality,  according 
to  the  occasion. 

(Page  102)  :  Shakespear's  genius  has  spread  over  the  whole  play  a  richness  like 
the  overflowing  of  the  Nile. 


478 


APPENDIX 


T.  Camfbcu.  (p.  Ixi)  :  1/  1  woe  to  idcct  aar  tntnriri?  pisr  of 
whidi  be  has  axnbioed  an  almost  Uteral  fidditj  to  bistocr  witk  aa  eqvaQj  fiotbfid 
•dhcraice  to  the  troth  of  natnre,  and  ia  vhich  he  saperindaces  die  Berxt  of  skilM 
dramatic  maaagcmect,  it  would  be  Auikamy  ^mJ  CUmpatr^.  In  hs  pmliaiLcre  of 
Antony  there  is,  perhaps,  a  flattered  irVenes»  of  the  ORgmal  by  Ftotaz^ ;  bnt  die 
similitDde  loses  little  of  i:s  strength  bj  Sbakspeare's  u>ftmrng  axad  keeping  in  die 
shade  his  traits  of  cmeltj.  In  Qeopatra,  we  can  dfvmi  nochnig  ■MrniaTly  difieicut 
from  the  Toocbed  historical  sorceress;  she  DercrthelesB  has  a  more  Tpvid  mftfotir 
and  versatile  plaj  of  enchantmert  in  Shakspeare^s  Hkeness  of  her,  than  in  a  dooea 
of  ocber  portiral  copies  in  which  the  artists  took  mach  fpreatcr  Hberties  with  hrstnriral 
trath : — he  paints  her  as  if  the  gypsy  herself  bad  cast  ber  spell  oiver  him,  and 
ber  own  wit^icxaft  to  his  pennl  At  the  same  tfrre,  pI^r^Qy  interesting  to  oir 
as  he  makes  this  enchantress,  he  ke^K  as  far  fircta  a  ridoos  syaqiatby.  Tbe 
ber  bosom,  that  hills  its  narse  asleep,  has  oo  pcisca  fior  oor  mnraBty.  A  sa|^ 
glance  at  the  devoted  zbA  dignified  Octaria  recalls  oar  biwiy  to  virtae  ;  bat  wi& 
drftcaff  sldll  be  withbolds  the  purer  wcman  from  proadaeBt  frailMf  with  tbe 
Qaeen,  and  does  not,  like  Dryden,  being  tbe  two  to  a  •'•*'J^*?*»g 


A.  Skottowc  (u,  238)  :  Tbe  passage  most  stiuagly  eafteaiie  of  tbe 
jection  of  Antony's  reason  to  his  passiocts,  is  his  reply  to  Qeopacra*s  prtifaw  ior 
pardon,  when  her  tadiscrelioa  h^  c&cted  bfs  ncer  rain :  *  Fall  not  a  tear,  I  say«* 
etc  IIL.  xi,  7$.  Tbe  opimoa  caCextaxned  by  tbe  diaautiL  Aatonj  of  tbe  worthless- 
aesi  of  Qeopatra,  is  a  drcmastaaoe  cntli^^  of  tbe  poet  s  own  czcaiioa.  Aatoey 
describes  her  as  *•  canning  past  mas's  dioagbt^'  and  designates  ber  ia  term! 
to  the  sLzad  of  a  lover,  woald  natarally  riaamiiairiii'  fri'lings  of  aamiogled 
'  I  foazKi  yoa  as  a  Bc>eseL*  etc  ITI.  xxo,  142  He  is  faOy  a&ne  to,  aad  biOeily 
l«aimr<  tbe  icJry  aad  degradatioa  of  bis  coadact;  bat  fass  frmest  icsoHes  are  liecUy 
cippused  agaiast  dte  potest  speO  of  bss  *  grave  danm, — Wbose  eye  becked  fcflb  kis 
aad  calFd  tbem  boBie ;  Whose  bosoai  was  has  dowaet,  bis  dacf  end. 
laad  actiops  of  ^akespeare's  AdIobt,  tbertibie,  axe  diametrically  ofi^iii«al  to 

is  ao  iaooaststeacy  ia  hcs  rnndact      Tbe  IkTrtinHwcja  of  Qeopatia 
\  I  IS  tbe  liak  whack  binds  ber  to  tbe  heart  of  AflCocy;  dssolate  aad  ^Yili^itBoas 
*  I  ber  depmity  is  rnagi  riiil  to  bis  aatzre  ;  tbat  wbich  otbexs  woald  bawe  lew^ 

is  to  bim  a  spell.  .  .  .  Bat,  wbic  was  graSe^  to  bis  apprtilr  did  not  1  imaiiiail  ibe 
ap|g»AMtk»  of  hss  jadgesmedL  Hisoaey  bs  alike  reootded  Antony's  ^^fc'^V^'— ' 
ahtSty  aad  his  oorpcveal  frailty :  a  victim  to  tbe  laCfcr,  eaoagb  of  tbe  fcaiau  4p^ltf>t*» 
saaiived  to  impress  ca  bis  mtsan*  tbe  deepest  sense  of  bis  IoUt,  tbe  weakness  and 

of  bis  isfataatsca.    Sbakespeaie  read  die  inmost  tbo^bts  of  Anloay; 
aa  ewesiastaBe  record. 


H.  HalULX  vi:^  571'  :  AmUmr  ^m£  Ctrf^irM,  does  not 

besxdes  as  T^Jm^ms  C4t:^£r\  be*  is  st  least  ec2aal!y  redolent  of  tbe  gesias  of 
Sbakspeare.     Axaccy  i=k5eed  was  pves  bJsa  by  biAoiy.  aad  be  bas  bat  embo£ed  ia 

aD  faesaxs  bac  bissell  Iz  Occnsra  be  bad  less  to  gvide  bim ;  sbe  is  asaicba 
of  tbe  same  payanoi  mere  lawiess  aad  iaseas&le  to  reason  azki  bDOoa^ 
aze  icmad  C2  wrrxaes.  Tks  c^iszacter  K=ag  act  one  dat  can  please,  its  stracg 
aad  spcRted  de£aeB=kc  ba>  a:t  bees  sad&xxdy  ot-aeited.  It  has  indeed  oolf  i 
poetical  oe^fiaaljty ;  3»e  type  was  '2:  die  ooonexas  cf  ^^'— >^  lifie.  hot  tbe 
bUace  is  tbat  of  XieiiaeS  As^ck^'s  Steals  to  a  >i>»»^Y, 


ENGLISH  CRITICISM^BATHURST  479 

In  these  three  tragedies  [Coriolanus^  Julius  Otsar^  Anthony  and  Cleopatra]  it  is 
manifest  that  Roman  character,  and  still  more  Roman  manners,  are  not  exhibited 
with  the  precision  of  a  scholar ;  yet  there  is  something  that  distinguishes  them  from 
the  rest,  something  of  a  grandiosity  in  the  sentiments  and  language,  which  shows  us 
that  Shakespeare  had  not  read  that  history  without  entering  into  its  spirit. 

Charles  Batiiurst  (p.  130) :  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  is  carelessly  written,  with 
no  attempt  at  dignity,  considering  what  great  personages  are  introduced ;  but  with  a 
great  deal  of  nature,  spirit,  and  knowledge  of  character,  in  very  many  parts,  and  with 
several  most  beautiful  passages  of  poetry  and  imagination ;  as,  for  instance,  the  dream 
of  Cleopatra.  It  has  passages,  where  he  lets  his  mind  loose,  and  follows  his  fancy 
and  feeling  freely;  particularly,  perhaps,  in  the  end;  and  even  the  verse  breaks 
delightfully  out  of  its  trammels,  as  in  the  speech  about  the  cloud.  The  subject  of  the 
play,  in  fact,  was  likely  often  to  lead  to  this  looser  and  softer  character ;  tenderness, 
even  weakness,  is  its  business.     It  is  historical ;  but  it  is  chiefly  the  anecdote  of  his-  \ 

tory,  not  the  dignity  of  it.  Plutarch* s  Lives^  his  only  authority,  is  in  fact  but,  in  great 
degree,  a  collection  of  anecdotes.  But  there  was  no  occasion  to  read  Plutarch,  to 
understand  the  part  of  Cleopatra.  The  tenderness  of  feeling,  however,  extends 
itself  to  other  parts  than  those  of  the  lovers ;  at  least  it  is  most  remarkable  in  the 
death  of  Enobarbus — a  part  which,  after  the  manner  of  Shakespeare,  is  made  to  throw 
great  light  on  the  character  of  Antony  himself,  which  he  meant  to  elevate  as  much 
as  possible  ;  notwithstanding  his  great  weakness  in  all  that  concerns  Cleopatra,  and 
unmistakable  misconduct  with  regard  to  his  wife.  He  represents  him  as,  what  he 
certainly  was  not,  a  man  of  the  most  noble  and  high  spirit,  capable  at  times,  notwith- 
standing the  luxury  he  afterwards  fell  into,  of  a  thoroughly  soldier-like  life,  and  full 
of  kind  and  generous  feelings.  He  seems  to  delight  in  supposing  the  melancholy 
meditations  of  a  great  and  active  character,  when  losing  his  power,  and  drawing  to 
his  end. 

Hartley  Coleridge  (ii,  183) :  The  general  neglect  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
by  all  but  students  of  Shakspeare,  and  the  preference  long  given  to  Dryden*s  play  on 
the  same  subject,  prove  the  danger  of  protracting  the  interest  of  a  plot,  in  order  to 
introduce  a  greater  variety  of  incidents.  The  scenes,  for  example,  wherein  Pompey 
figures,  though  well-vrritten,  are  wholly  inconclusive ;  they  form  a  part  of  the  biogra^ 
phy  of  Antony,  not  of  his  tragedy.  Nor  is  it  easy  to  conjecture  Shakspeare*s  reason 
for  introducing  so  many  short  scenes,  which  serve  no  purpose  but  to  let  the  auditor 
know  the  news.  They  form  a  sort  of  back-ground  to  the  picture,  but  they  detain  the 
action.  For  poetry  and  character,  there  are  few  dramas  superior ;  nor  is  there  any 
want  of  deep  and  grand  pathos ;  but  perhaps  both  Antony  and  Cleopatra  are  too  I 
heroic  to  be  pitied  for  weakness,  and  too  viciously  foolish  to  be  admired  for  their  | 
heroism.  Seldom  has  unlawful  love  been  rendered  so  interesting ;  but  the  interest, 
though  not  dangerous,  is  not  perfectly  agreeable. 

W.  \V.  Lloyd  (Critical  Essay ^  ed.  Singer,  p.  332)  :  The  passion  of  Antony  for  |*7 
Cleopatra  is  too  obviously  spurious  to  command  our  sympathy,  but  at  least  it  is  pas- 
sion ;  it  is  in  its  way  sympathetic,  and  so  far  unselfish  ;  and  the  course  of  the  action 
makes  us  feel  the  value  of  this  quality,  however  debased,  when  set  gainst  the  cold 
negation  of  all  sympathetic  feeling,  the  barren  materialism  of  unsocial  ambition  that 
covets  possession  of  the  instruments  of  gratification  at  the  cost  of  the  very  sense  that 


^8o  APPENDIX 

gires  the  Cicalty  of  bdng  gratified.  Notwithstandiiig  dieiefare  tfMt  die  feOj  of 
Antony  and  the  lalsdKX>d  of  the  Egyfitian  Qoeen  are  made  vceyA  manifrsr,  die  Bodi- 
fied  tiiamph  of  the  piece  U  theirs,  and  Caesar  and  his  soldiexs  are  left  duped  and 
d^ed  and  disappointed.  .  .  .  The  pUj  throughout  evinces  the  master  haad  of  Shake- 
speare  it  reads  with  unchecked  freshness,  as  though  it  flowed  with  qnickrtf  fmainXj 

from  his  pen,  at  the  same  time  that  erery  line  is  charged  with  the  matuiat  aatuma 
of  his  ripened  mind.  Loxoriant  as  the  execution  is,  it  is  so  governed  by  apptopcnte^ 
ness,  that  I  doobt  whether  any  of  Shakespeare's  plays  can  be  more  josdy  cntided 
correct,  in  the  technical  sense,  than  Antony  and  CUopatrm^ — whether  from  any  odicr 
a  single  line  could  less  easOy  be  struck  out  without  ^ipaxenl  injury  and  losSb 

Anon.  (R.  Cartwright  ?,  Sonnets  of  W.  Sh^  pp.  19, 22, 31) :  Lepidns  is  nideady 
Marlowe  ;  and,  strangest  of  all.  Sextos  Pompeitts  b  William  Herbert ;  and  Meoaa^ 
Thomas  Thorpe.  It  is  not  probable,  that  Bliss  Aime  Hathaway  ercr  dreamt  of  being 
the  sister  of  Caesar  and  the  wife  of  a  greater  than  Caesar;  hot  wms  Siakspere  himsdf 
consdoiB  of  his  own  position  in  the  world  of  poetry  and  thoo^t  ?  Certainly,  dus 
play  prores  it ;  hot  this  self-coosdoosness  is  not  in  the  least  degree  necessarily  oao- 
nected  with  pride  or  Tanity;  it  is  the  repose,  the  calm  nsajesty  of  the  Olympian  Jove; 
and  when  Antony  acknowledges  himself  a  Roman  by  a  Roman  valiantly  vanquished, 
it  is  the  Shakspere  of  1593  acknowledging  the  moral  supremacy  and  greatness  of  him 
of  1613.  It  may  perhaps  be  advisable,  and  more  satisfitctory  to  the  reader  to  ycai. 
oat,  how  &r  the  diaracters  in  the  Sonnets  and  in  the  Flay  agree  or  tally  one  wi& 
another.  The  two  ladies  readOy  answer  for  themselves — Cleopatra  being,  of  cxxBse, 
the  lady  with  the  raven  black  eyes ;  and  Octavia,  Mrs^  W.  Shakspere:  Enobarhos 
also,  the  personal  friend  and  Bivoarite  c&ax  of  Antony,  tieacfaeRiiiSy  repentant,  and 
forgiven,  is  easily  reoogniaed  as  Lord  Soathamptoo,  who  was  in  after-life  *  a  great 
*  captain  in  the  Spanish  wars,  and  in  the  Low  Countries.'  To  coochide,  Antony  if 
evidently  not  the  Mark  Antony  of  history,  but  the  fixlly  developed  Shakspere  of  1593 
— an  archangel  mined  ;  Lord  Southampton  is  dearly  pointed  at  in  Eoobarbns ;  the 
character  of  Marlowe  is  drawn  with  extraordinary  accuracy ;  the  Earl  of  Fembrake 
is  very  disdncdy  marked ;  and  the  allnsioo  to  Thomas  Thorpe  a  hcme-dirast.  It  is 
impossible  that  Shakspere,  in  his  fiftieth  year,  could,  even  offhand  as  a  sketdi,  have 
written  these  passages  without  a  clear  and  dffinife  object ;  and  yet  the  two  appaicndy 
tariffing  and  unmeaning  conversations,  the  one  widi  Menas,  ami  the  odier  aboat 
Lcpidus,  might  have  been  omitted,  and  the  parts  of  Pompey  and  Lepidns  migfat  have 
been  dismissed  in  a  few  words,  just  like  Fulvia,  without  injury  to  the  body  of  the 
work  ;  and  perhaps  the  play  would  then  have  been  cast  in  a  more  dassical  moald, 
less  distastefiil  to  French  critics,  and  more  worthy  of  a  Daxmd  or  a  PEmbioke^i 
Mother ;  but  it  would  not  have  been  a  Reply  to  the  tale  in  the  Sonnets^ 


J.  A.  Hexaud  (p.  374) :  In  dosing  his  cyde  of  Roman  plays,  Sliakspere*s 
manifested  itself  in  the  highest  form.  His  intellectnal  energies  hMd  already  bfended 
with  and  modified  his  imaginative*  his  posaonate,  and  his  creative  power  •«<<  \m\F'^V 
^  but  they  were  now  to  be  identified  at  the  acme  of  their  manifiestationsy  in  his  snbfiBe 
and  wonderful  tragedy  of  Antomr  and  Cleopatra.  We  have  already  aitmacd  Ae 
poet  boking  down,  as  a  superior  intelligence,  on  the  hsves  of  Troihu  and  Ctuidtt 
and  sporting  as  an  equal  with  those  of  yinua  and  Adomis^  We  have  now  to  see  Ha 
identify  himself  with  two  mortals  at  the  height  of  fnwtmt^^  who,  in  a  species  of  hooie 
had  conceived  themselves  to  be  in  the  p'^^rm  of  Dtvine  ^jwcn^  caicHft 


ENGLISH  CRITICISM--DOWDEN  481 

from  all  laws  except  that  of  their  own  wills.  This  is  the  elevation  at  which  Shak- 
spere  sustains  his  argument,  and  thus  prevents  it  from  becoming  immoral,  as  it  does 
in  the  hands  of  Dryden,  who  paints  his  heroine  and  hero  as  mere  human  persons,  of 
great  rank  indeed,  indulging  in  voluptuous  and  licentious  habits.  No  notion  of  guilt  1  \ 
attaches  to  the  conduct  of  Shakspere's  Antony  and  CUop<Ura  either  in  the  poet's  1  X 
opinion  or  their  own.  They  absolutely  transcend  all  relative  conventions,  all  possible 
forms  of  manners.  They  consciously  acknowledge,  and  therefore  transgress,  no  law. 
They  live  in  an  ideal  region,  far  above  the  reach  of  a  moral  code,  and  justify  their 
acts  on  the  warranty  of  their  own  nature.  They  swear  by  and  recognise  no  higher 
power  than  themselves.  That  this  is  a  false  position  there  is  no  doubt ;  and  the 
poet,  by  the  catastrophe  of  his  tragedy  shows  it  to  have  been  such.  But  while  the 
divine  revels  last,  the  actors  in  them  fully  believe  that  they  are  the  divinities  whom 
they  would  represent.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  surrender  themselves  without  reserve 
to  the  inspirations  with  which  they  are  filled,  and  are  no  less  in  their  own  estimation 
than  the  very  deities  of  love.  They  suffer  no  vulgar  criticism,  no  every-day  cares,  to 
come  near  them,  and  hold  themselves  aloof  from  the  customary  and  the  common. 
They  sit  on  thrones  outside  the  circle  of  the  round  globe,  and  repose  on  couches 
which  float  in  air-like  clouds,  and  never  touch  the  surface  of  the  planet.  .  .  .  There 
is  a  poetic  valour  as  well  as  a  personal  one,  and  it  required  a  brave  poet  to  conceive 
and  execute  such  a  design.  With  a  happy  audacity,  Shakspere  rises  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  height  of  his  theme.  The  love  of  his  heroic  pair,  they  assume  to  be 
boundless.  To  set  a  bourne  to  it,  would  require  the  discovery  of  a  new  heaven,  new 
earth.  The  manner  in  which  Antony  suffers  the  imperial  Egyptian  to  overbear  his 
very  manhood  shows  at  any  rate  that  his  is  without  limits.  No  consideration  or 
interest,  however  solemn  or  serious,  can  prevent  its  extension. 

Edward  Dowden  (p.  308)  :  The  spirit  of  the  play,  though  superficially  it  appear 
voluptuous,  is  essentially  severe.  That  is  to  say,  Shakspere  is  faithful  to  the  fact 
The  fascination  exercised  by  Cleopatra  over  Antony,  and  hardly  less  by  Antony  over 
Qeopatra,  is  not  so  much  that  of  the  senses  as  of  the  sensuous  imagination.  A  third 
of  the  world  is  theirs.  They  have  left  youth  behind  with  its  slight,  melodious  rap- 
tures and  despairs.  Theirs  is  the  deeper  intoxication  of  middle  age,  when  death  has 
become  a  reality,  when  the  world  is  limited  and  positive,  when  life  is  urged  to  yield 
up  quickly  its  utmost  treasures  of  delight.  What  may  they  not  achieve  of  joy  who 
have  power,  and  beauty,  and  pomp,  and  pleasure  all  their  own  ?  How  shall  they 
fill  every  minute  of  their  time  with  the  quintessence  of  enjoyment  and  of  gloiy  ? 
«  Let  Rome  in  Tiber  melt !  and  the  wide  arch  Of  the  rang'd  empire  fall  I  here  is  my 
*  space.*  Only  ont  thing  they  had  not  allowed  for, — that  over  and  above  power,  and 
beauty,  and  pleasure,  and  pomp,  there  is  a  certain  inevitable  fact,  a  law  which  can- 
not be  evaded.  Pleasure  sits  enthroned  as  queen ;  there  is  a  revel,  and  the  lords  of 
the  earth,  crowned  with  roses,  dance  before  her  to  the  sound  of  lascivious  flutes. 
But  presently  the  scene  changes ;  the  hall  of  revel  is  transformed  to  an  arena  ;  the 
dancers  are  armed  gladiators ;  and  as  they  advance  to  combat  they  pay  the  last  hom- 
age to  their  Queen  with  the  words,  MorUuri  te  salutant. 

F.  J.  FURNIVALL  (Leopold  Shakspere,  Introd,  p.  Ixxxii)  :  That  in  [Qeopatra], 
the  dark  woman  of  Shakspere's  Sonnets,  his  own  fickle,  serpent-like,  attractive  mis- 
tress, is  to  some  extent  embodied,  I  do  not  doubt.  What  a  superbly  sumptuous 
picture,  as  if  painted  by  Veronese  or  Titian,  is  that  where  CleopAtra  first  met  Antony 

3X 


482 


APPENDIX 


upon  the  river  of  Cydnus !  How  admirably  transferred  from  Plntarch's  prose !  And 
how  that  fatal  inability  to  say  •  No '  to  woman  shows  us  Antony's  weakness  and  the 
cause  of  his  final  fall.  The  play  is  like  Troiltis  and  Cressida^  not  only  in  lust  and 
false  women  (Cressida  and  Cleopatra)  playing  such  a  prominent  part  in  it,  but  in 
Antony's  renown  and  power,  and  selfish  preference  of  his  own  whims  to  honour's 
call,  to  his  country's  good,  being  the  counterpart  of  Achilles's.  All  the  characters 
are  selfish  except  Ociavia  and  Eros.  ...  In  [Antony's]  developcment,  lust  and  self- 
indulgence  prevail,  and  under  their  influence  he  loses  judgment,  soldiership,  even 
the  qualities  of  a  man.  His  seeming  impulse  towards  good  in  the  marriage  of 
OcUvia  lasts  but  for  a  time  ;  all  her  nobleness  and  virtue  cannot  save  him.  He  tunis 
from  the  gem  of  woman  to  his  Egyptian  dish  again,  and  abides  by  his  infatuation 
even  when  he  knows  he's  deceived. 

A.  C.  Swinburne  (p.  i88)  :  A  loftier  or  a  more  perfect  piece  of  man's  work  was 
never  done  in  all  the  world  than  this  tragedy  of  Coriolanus  :  the  one  fit  and  crown- 
ing epithet  for  its  companion  or  successor  is  that  bestowed  by  Coleridge — •  the  mo^ 
'wonderful.'  It  would  seem  a  sign  or  birthmark  of  only  the  greatest  among  poets 
that  they  should  be  sure  to  rise  instantly  for  awhile  above  the  very  highest  of  their 
native  height  at  the  touch  of  a  thought  of  Qeopatra.  So  was  it,  as  we  all  know, 
with  William  Shakespeare :  so  is  it,  as  we  all  see,  with  Victor  Hugo.  As  we  fed  in 
the  marvellous  and  matchless  verses  of  Zim-Zisimi  all  the  splendour  and  fragrance 
and  miracle  of  her  mere  bodily  presence,  so  from  her  first  imperial  dawn  on  the  stage 
of  Shakespeare  to  the  setting  of  that  eastern  star  behind  a  pall  of  undissolving  clood 
we  feel  the  charm  and  the  terror  and  the  mystery  of  her  absolute  and  royal  sooL 

Never  has  he  given  such  proof  of  his  incomparable  instinct  for  abstinence  from  the 
wrong  thing  as  well  as  achievement  of  the  right  He  has  utterly  rejected  and  dis- 
dained all  occasion  of  setting  her  off  by  means  of  any  lesser  foil  than  all  the  glory 
of  the  world  with  all  its  empires.  And  we  need  not  Antoujr's  example  to  show  as 
that  these  are  less  than  straws  in  the  balance.  '  Entre  elle  et  I'univers  qui  s'oftaient 
*k  la  fois  II  hisita,  l&chant  le  monde  dans  son  choix.'  Even  as  that  Roman  grasp 
relaxed  luid  let  fall  the  world,  so  has  Shakespeare's  self  let  go  for  awhile  his  greater 
worid  of  imagination,  with  all  its  all  but  infinite  variety  of  life  and  thought  and 
action,  for  love  of  that  more  infinite  variety  which  custom  could  not  stale.  Himsdf 
a  second  and  a  yet  more  fortunate  Antony,  he  has  once  more  laid  a  world,  and  a 
world  more  wonderful  than  ever,  at  her  feet  He  has  put  aside  for  her  sake  all 
other  forms  and  figures  of  womanhood  ;  he,  father  or  creator  of  Rosalind,  of  Cor- 
delia, of  Desdemona,  and  of  Imogen,  he  too,  like  the  5nin-god  and  sender  of  all 
song,  has  anchored  his  eyes  on  her  whom  *  Phoebus'  amorous  pinches '  could  not 
leave  *  black,'  nor  *  wrinkled  deep  in  time '  ;  on  that  incarnate  and  imperishable 

*  spirit  of  sense,'  to  whom  at  the  very  last  *  The  stroke  of  death  is  as  a  lover's  pinch, 
*That  hurts,  and  b  desired.'  To  him,  as  to  the  dying  husband  of  Octavia,  this  crea- 
ture of  his  own  hand  might  have  boasted  herself  that  the  loveliest  and  purest  among 
all  her  sisters  of  his  begetting,  *  with  her  modest  eyes  And  still  conclusion,  shall 

*  acquire  no  honour,  Demurring  upon  me.'  To  sum  up,  Shakespeare  has  dsewhcre 
given  us  in  ideal  incarnation  the  perfect  mother,  the  perfect  wife,  the  perfect  daughter, 
the  perfect  mistress,  or  the  perfect  maiden  :  here  only  once  for  all  he  has  given  os 
the  perfect  and  the  everlasting  woman. 

And  what  a  world  of  great  men  and  great  things,  *  high  actions  and  high  pas- 
'sions,'  is  this  that  he  has  spread  under  her  for  a  foot-cloth  or  hung  behind  her  for  a 


ENGLISH  CRITICISM-^HUDSON  483 

curtain  !  The  descendant  of  that  other,  his  ancestral  Alcides,  late  ofi^oot  of  the  god 
whom  he  loved  and  who  so  long  was  loth  to  leave  him,  is  here,  as  in  history,  the 
visible  one  man  revealed  who  could  grapple  for  a  second  with  very  Rome  and  seem 
to  throw  it,  more  lightly  than  he  could  cope  with  Qeopatra.  And  not  the  Roman 
Landor  himself  could  see  or  make  us  see  more  clearly  than  has  his  fellow  provincial 
of  Warwickshire  that  first  imperial  nephew  of  her  great  first  paramour,  who  was  to 
his  actual  uncle  even  such  a  foil  and  counterfeit  and  perverse  and  prosperous  parody 
as  the  son  of  Hortense  Beauhamais  of  Saint-Leu  to  the  son  of  Letixia  Buonaparte 
of  Ajaccio.  For  Shakespeare  too,  like  Landor,  had  watched  hb  •  sweet  Octavius ' 
smilingly  and  frowningly  *  draw  under  nose  the  knuckle  of  forefinger'  as  he  looked 
out  upon  the  trail  of  innocent  blood  after  the  bright  receding  figure  of  his  brave 
young  kinsman.  The  fair-faced  false  'present  God*  of  his  poetic  parasites,  the 
smooth  triumphant  patron  and  preserver  with  the  heart  of  ice  and  iron,  smiles  before 
us  to  the  very  life.  It  is  of  no  account  now  to  remember  that  <  he  at  Philippi  kept 
*  His  sword  even  like  a  dancer  :  *  for  the  sword  of  Antony  that  struck  for  him  is  in 
the  renegade  hand  of  Dercetas. 

I  have  said  nothing  of  Enobarbus  or  of  Eros,  the  fugitive  once  mined  by  his  flight 
and  agam  redeemed  by  the  death-agony  of  his  dark  and  doomed  repentance,  or  the 
freedman  transfigured  by  a  death  more  fair  than  freedom  through  the  glory  of  the 
greatness  of  his  faith  :  for  who  can  speak  of  all  things  or  of  half  that  are  in  Shake- 
speare ?     And  who  can  speak  worthily  of  any  ? 

H.  N.  Hudson  (Harv.  Ed.,  p.  6) :  Judging  from  my  own  experience,  Antony 
and  Cleopatra  is  the  last  of  Shakespeare's  plays  that  one  grows  to  appreciate.  This 
seems  partly  owing  to  the  excellences  of  the  work,  and  partly  not  For  it  is  marked 
beyond  any  other  by  a  superabundance  of  external  animation,  as  well  as  by  a  sur- 
passing fineness  of  workmanship,  such  as  needs  oft-repeated  and  most  careful  perusal 
to  bring  out  full  upon  the  mind's  eye.  The  great  number  and  variety  of  events 
crowded  together  in  it,  the  rapidity  with  which  they  pass  before  us,  and,  consequently^ 
the  frequent  changes  of  scene,  hold  curiosity  on  the  stretch,  and  somewhat  overfill 
the  mind  with  sensuous  effect,  so  as  for  a  long  time  to  distract  and  divert  the  thoughts 
from  those  subtilties  of  characterization  and  delicacies  of  poetry  which  everywhere 
accompany  them.  I  am  by  no  means  sure  but  the  two  things  naturally  go  together^ 
yet  I  have  to  confess  it  has  long  seemed  to  me  that,  by  selecting  fewer  incidents,  or 
by  condensing  the  import  and  spirit  of  them  into  larger  masses,  what  is  now  a  serious 
fault  in  the  drama  might  have  been  avoided. 

H.  Corson  {rntroduction  to  tht  Study  of  Shakespeare ^  1889,  p.  260,  et  seq,)  : 
This  then  is  the  dramatic  situation :  a  man  of  extraordinary  possibilities,  altogether 
of  colossal  but  unsymmetrical  proportions,  brought  under  the  sway  of  a  fascinating 
woman — fascinating  in  a  sensuous  direction — with  all  possible  adventitious  aids  to 
her  intrinsic  fascination ;  but  to  induce  a  vigorous  resistance  to  this  sway  under  which 
he  is  brought,  and  to  save  him  from  becoming  a  helpless  victim  of  her  magic,  the 
greatest  possible  demands  are  made  upon  his  asserting  his  nobler  self— demands 
which,  if  met,  would  enable  him  to  *  walk  the  earth  with  dominion,'  though  wanting 
in  the  civic  genius  of  his  colleague  in  the  triumvirate,  Octavius.  He  is  an  unparal- 
leled illustration  of  what  Hamlet  is  made  to  give  expression  to  :  *  So  oft  it  chances 
*in  particular  men,'  etc.,  I,  iv,  23-28.  This  passage  expresses  the  very  theme  of 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  as  a  tragedy ;  and  when  Shakespeare  wrote  it,  he  had  already. 


484  APPENDIX 

there  can  be  little  or  no  doubt,  produced  the  play  of  Julius  C^sar,  and  had  seen  in 
the  character  of  Antony,  notwithsUnding  all  its  great  elements,  the  fatal  consequences 
of  a  *  vicious  mole  of  nature.'  Antony  may  have  been  in  his  mind  when  he  wrote 
this  passage.  Thomas  De  Quincey,  in  his  volume  on  The  Casars,  credits  Shake- 
speare with  an  insight  into  the  grand  possibilities  of  Antony's  nature,  which  the 
Romans  themselves  could  not  have  had:  *  Shakespeare,'  he  says,  *had  a  just  con- 

*  ception  of  the  original  grandeur  which  lay  beneath  that  wild  tempestuous  nature 

<  presented  by  Antony  to  the  eye  of  the  undiscriminating  world.     It  is  to  the  honor 

*  of  Shakespeare  that  he  should  have  been  able  to  discern  the  true  coloring  of  this 

*  most  original  character  under  the  smoke  and  tarnish  of  antiquity.     It  is  no  less  to 

*  the  honor  of  the  great  triumvir,  that  a  strength  of  coloring  should  survive  in  his 
« character,  capable  of  baffling  the  wrongs  and  ravages  of  time.     Neither  is  it  to  be 

*  thought  strange  that  a  character  should  have  been  misunderstood  and  falsely  appreci- 
*ated  for  nearly  two  thousand  years.  It  happens  not  uncommonly,  especially 
'  amongst  an  unimaginative  people,  like  the  Romans,  that  the  characters  of  men  are 

*  ciphers  and  enigmas  to  their  own  age,  and  are  first  read  and  interpreted  by  a  far 

*  distant  posterity.  .  .  .  Men  like  Mark  Antony,  with  minds  of  chaotic  composition — 
'light  conflicting  with  darkness,  proportions  of  colossal  grandeur  disfigured  by 
'  unsymmetrical  arrangement,  the  angelic  in  close  neighborhood  with  the  brutal — are 
'  first  read  in  their  true  meaning  by  an  age  learned  in  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
'  heart.  Of  this  philosophy  the  Romans  had,  by  the  necessities  of  education  and 
'  domestic  discipline,  not  less  than  by  original  constitution  of  mind,  the  very  narrow- 

<  est  visual  range.  .  .  .  Not  man  in  his  own  peculiar  nature,  but  man  in  his  relations 

<  to  other  men,  was  the  station  from  which  the  Roman  speculators  took  up  their 
'philosophy  of  human  nature.  Tried  by  such  standard,  Mark  Antony  would  be 
'  found  wanting.  As  a  citizen,  he  was  irretrievably  licentious,  and  therefore  there 
'  needed  not  the  bitter  personal  feud,  which  circumstances  had  generated  between 
'  them,  to  account  for  the  achamefnent  with  which  Cicero  pursued  him.  Had  Antony 
'  been  his  friend  even,  or  his  near  kinsman,  Cicero  must  still  have  been  his  public 
'  enemy.  And  not  merely  for  bis  vices ;  for  even  the  grander  features  of  his  diar- 
'  acter,  his  towering  ambition,  his  magnanimity,  and  the  fascinations  of  his  popular 
'qualities, — were  all,  in  the  circumstances  of  those  times,  and  in  his  dispositioii,  of  a 
'  tendency  dangerously  uncivic' 

(Page  265)  :  In  such  a  highly-coloured  and  richly- sensuous  passage  [as  the 
description  of  Cleopatra's  appearance  on  the  river  Cydnus],  the  great  artist  creates 
the  atmosphere  in  which  the  passion-fated  pair  are  exhibited.  Now  what  moral 
problem  was  involved  in  the  dramatic  treatment  of  such  a  theme  ?  It  could  be  said, 
a  priori^  that  the  problem  consisted  in  shutting  off  Sjrmpathy  with  moral  obliquity, 
and  inviting  sympathy  with  moral  freedom  so  far  as  the  latter  is  asserted,  on  the  put 
of  the  principal  actors.  And  just  this,  it  will  be  seen,  Shakespeare  has  done.  We 
are  nowhere  brought  into  a  sympathetic  relationship  with  the  moral  obliquity  of  either 
Antony  or  Qeopatra.  We  are  protected  by  the  moral  spirit  with  which  the  dimmatitf 
works,  from  any  perversion  of  the  moral  judgment.  And  this  protection  is  positive 
rather  than  negative ;  for  the  moral  judgment  is  stimulated  to  its  best  activity, 
throughout  the  play. 

An  interesting  feature  of  the  play,  bearing  on  its  moral  spirit,  is  that  part  of  its 
narrated  element  which  pertains  to  the  hero  and  heroine — what  is  told  of  Antony  and 
of  Qeopatra,  instead  of  being  brought  dramatically  forward.  Professor  Delius,  in  his 
valuable  papers  On  Shakespeare's  Use  of  Narration  in  his  Dramas,  attributes  loo 


ENGLISH  CRITICISM-^WINTER  485 

much,  perhaps,  of  the  narrated  element,  to  the  deficiencies  of  the  stage  in  Shake- 
speare's time,  and  not  enough  to  the  perspective  the  artist  aimed  after,  by  his  use  of 
narration,  and  to  the  moral  proportion  of  a  play.  What  is  thrown  into  the  back- 
ground by  narration  often  serves  moral  proportion  by  its  being  thus  kept  apart  from 
our  sympathies.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  the  tragedy  of  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra, [See  I,  i,  4^53;  If  J»  63-67;  II,  ii,  267-279;  III,  x,  26-29;  HI,  xi,  55-^; 
IV,  xiv,  55-65 ;  IV,  XV,  27-30.]  Now  the  point  to  be  especially  noted  is,  that 
Cleopatra's  fascination  is,  in  the  passages  quoted,  described  and  spoken  of,  rather  than 
brought  dramatically  to  our  feelings  through  what  she  herself  says  and  does.  These 
descriptions  of  her  charms  do  not  bring  us  into  any  sympathetic  relationship  with  her 
personality.  We  simply  know  of  her  charms.  The  dramatist  does  but  little  more 
than  the  historian.  Plutarch  tells  us  of  her  fascination,  and  so  does  Dion  Cassius.! 
Both  these  writers  emphasize  it  even  more  than  Shakespeare  does.  But  they  narrate 
it  as  historians.  They  address  the  fact  to  our  minds.  But  the  drama,  if  it  be  within 
its  purpose,  should  bring  it,  as  far  as  possible,  to  our  aesthetic  appreciation,  rather 
than  simply  acquaint  us  with  the  fact.  But  it  does  not  do  so.  In  some,  indeed  in . 
all  the  scenes  in  which  Qeopatra  appears,  she  is  not  a  very  fascinating  creature.  Her  * 
treatment  of  the  messenger  who  brings  her  the  news  of  Antony's  marriage  to  Octavia 
does  not  present  her  in  a  very  attractive  light ;  rather,  in  a  very  repulsive  one  (A.  II. 
Sc.  v.).  In  her  rage  she  is  simply  irrational.  She  beats  the  innocent  messenger, 
hales  him  up  and  down,  and  even  prepares  to  kill  him.  She  is  almost  divorced  from 
the  moral  constitution  of  things.  Her  will  is  the  wind's  will.  Her  fascination,  as 
represented  by  Shakespeare,  is  almost  wholly  a  sexual  one,  exerted  upon  those  who 
are  in  her  bodily  presence. 

W.  Winter  (Old  Shrines  and  Ivy,  p.  219)  :  Whatever  else  may  be  said  as  to 
the  drift  of  the  tragedy  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  this  certainly  may  with  truth  be 
said,  that  to  strong  natures  that  sicken  under  the  weight  of  convention  and  are  weaiy 
with  looking  upon  the  littleness  of  human  nature  in  its  ordinary  forms,  it  affords  a 
great  and  splendid,  howsoever  temporary,  relief  and  refreshment.  The  winds  of 
power  blow  through  it ;  the  strong  meridian  sunshine  blazes  over  it ;  the  colours  of 
morning  bum  around  it ;  the  trumpet  blares  in  its  music ;  and  its  fragrance  is  the 
scent  of  a  wilderness  of  roses.  Shakespeare's  vast  imagination  was  here  loosed 
upon  colossal  images  and  imperial  splendours.  The  passions  that  dash  or  mingle 
in  this  piece  are  like  the  ocean  surges — fierce,  glittering,  terrible,  glorious.  The 
theme  is  the  ruin  of  a  demigod.  The  adjuncts  are  empires.  Wealth  of  every  sort 
is  poured  forth  with  regal  and  limitless  profusion.  The  language  glows  with  a  prod- 
igal emotion  and  towers  to  a  superb  height  of  eloquence.  It  does  not  signify,  as 
modifying  the  effect  of  all  this  tumult  and  glory,  that  the  stem  trath  of  mortal  evan- 
escence is  suggested  all  the  way  and  simply  disclosed  at  last  in  a  tragical  wreck  of 
honour,  love,  and  life.  While  the  pageant  endures  it  endures  in  diamond  light,  and 
when  it  fades  and  crumbles  the  change  is  instantaneous  to  darkness  and  death. 
*  The  odds  is  gone.  And  there  is  nothing  left  remarkable  Beneath  the  visiting  moon.' 
There  is  no  need  to  inquire  whether  Shakespeare — who  closely  followed  Plutarch, 
in  telling  the  Roman  and  Egyptian  story — ^has  been  true  to  the  historical  fact.  His 
characters  declare  themselves  with  absolute  precision  and  they  are  not  to  be  mis- 
taken. Antony  and  Cleopatra  are  in  middle  life,  and  the  only  possible  or  admissible 
ideal  of  them  is  that  which  separates  them  at  once  and  forever  from  the  gentle,  puny, 
experimental  emotions  of  youth,  and  invests  them  with  the  developed  powers  and 


486 


APPENDIX 


fearless  and  exultant  passions  of  men  and  women  to  whom  the  world  and  life  are  a 
fact  and  not  a  dream.  They  do  not  palter.  For  them  there  is  but  one  hour,  which 
is  the  present,  and  one  life,  which  they  will  entirely  and  absolutely  fulfil.  They 
have  passed  out  of  the  mere  instinctive  life  of  the  senses,  into  that  more  intense  and 
thrilling  life  wherein  the  senses  are  fed  and  governed  by  the  imagination.  Shake- 
speare has  filled  this  wonderful  play  with  lines  that  tell  unerringly  bis  grand  mean- 
ing in  this  respect — lines  that,  to  Shakespearean  scholars,  are  in  the  alphabet  of 
memory :  *  There's  beggary  in  the  love  that  can  be  reckoned.*  ...  *  There's  not  a 
'minute  of  our  lives  should  stretch  Without  some  pleasure  now.'  .  .  .  '  Let  Rome  in 

*  Tiber  melt  and  the  wide  arch  Of  the  ranged  empire  fall !  Here  is  my  space  ! '  .  . . 
<  O,  thou  day  of  the  world.  Chain  mine  armed  neck !     Leap  thou,  attire  and  all, 

*  Through  proof  of  harness,  to  my  heart  and  there  Ride  on  the  pants  triumphing.'  .  . . 

*  Fall  not  a  tear,  I  say  I  one  of  them  rates  All  that  is  won  and  lost.  Give  me  a  kiss ; 
'  Even  this  repays  me.'  Here  is  no  Orsino,  sighing  for  the  music  that  is  the  food  of 
love ;  no  Romeo,  taking  the  measure  of  an  immade  grave  ;  no  Hamlet  lover,  bidding 
his  mistress  go  to  a  nunnery.  You  may  indeed,  if  you  possess  the  subtle,  poetic 
sense,  hear,  through  this  voluptuous  story,  the  faint,  far-off  rustle  of  the  garments 
of  the  coming  Nemesis ;  the  low  moan  of  the  funeral  music  that  will  sing  those 
imperial  lovers  to  their  rest — for  nothing  is  more  inevitably  doomed  than  mortal 
delight  in  mortal  love,  and  no  moralist  ever  taught  his  lesson  of  truth  with  more 
inexorable  purpose  than  Shakespeare  uses  here.  But  in  the  meantime  it  is  the 
present  vitality  and  not  the  moral  implication  of  the  subject  that  actors  must  be  con- 
cerned to  show,  and  observers  to  recognise  and  comprehend,  upon  the  stage,  if  this 
tragedy  is  to  be  rightly  acted  and  rightly  seen.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  are  lovers, 
but  not  lovers  only.  It  is  the  splendid  stature  and  infinite  variety  of  character  in 
them  that  render  them  puissant  in  fascination.  E^ch  of  them  speaks  great  thoughts 
in  great  language.  Each  displa3rs  noble  imagination.  Each  becomes  majestic  in 
the  hour  of  danger  and  pathetically  heroic  in  the  hour  of  death.  The  djriag  speeches 
of  Antony  are  in  the  highest  vein  that  Shakespeare  ever  reached ;  and,  when  yoa 
consider  what  is  implied  as  well  as  what  is  said,  there  is  nowhere  in  him  a  more 
lofty  line  than  Cleopatra's  *  Give  me  my  robe,  put  on  my  crown ;  I  have  immortal 

*  longings  in  me ! '  Antony  at  the  last  is  a  ruin,  and  like  a  ruin — dark,  weird,  grim, 
lonely,  haggard — he  seems  to  stand  beneath  a  cold  and  lurid  sunset  sky,  wherein  the 
black  clouds  gather,  while  the  rising  wind  blows  merciless  and  terrible  over  an  inter- 
vening waste  of  rock  and  desert.  Those  images  indicate  the  spirit  and  atmosphere 
of  Shakespeare's  conception. 

George  Wyndham  {North's  Plutarch,  etc.  Reprint,  London,  1895.  Inirod.  p. 
xciii)  :  What,  it  may  be  asked,  led  Shakespeare,  amid  all  the  power  and  magnificence 
of  North's  PhUarch^  to  select  his  Coriolanus,  his  Jidim  Ctesar,  and  his  Antomius} 
The  answer,  I  think,  must  be  that  in  Volumnia,  Calpumia  and  Portia,  and  Qeopatza, 
he  found  woman  in  her  three-fold  relation  to  man,  of  mother,  wife,  and  mistress.  I 
have  passed  over  Shakespeare's  Julius  Casar;  but  I  may  end  by  tracing  in  his 
Antony  the  golden  tradition  he  accepted  from  Amyot  and  North.  It  is  impossible 
to  do  this  in  detail,  for  throughout  the  first  three  Acts  all  the  colour  and  the  incident, 
throughout  the  last  two  all  the  incident  and  the  passion,  are  taken  by  Shakespeare 
from  North,  and  by  North  from  Amyot  Shakespeare,  indeed,  is  saturated  with 
North's  language  and  possessed  by  his  passion.  He  is  haunted  by  the  story  as  North 
has  told  it,  so  that  he  even  ObuIs  to  eliminate  matters  which  either  are  nothing  to  his 


ENGLISH  CRITICISM— BOAS  487 

purpose  or  are  not  susceptible  of  dramatic  presentment :  as  in  I,  ii  of  the  Folios, 
where  you  find  Lamprias,  Plutarch's  grandfather,  and  his  authority  for  many  details 
of  Antony's  career,  making  an  otiose  entry  as  Lamprius,  among  the  characters  who 
have  something  to  say.  Everywhere  are  touches  whose  colour  must  remain  com- 
paratively pale  unless  they  glow  again  for  us  as,  doubtless,  they  glowed  for  Shake- 
speare, with  hues  reflected  from  the  passages  in  North  that  shone  in  his  memory. 
During  his  first  three  Acts  Shakespeare  merely  paints  the  man  and  the  woman  who 
are  to  suffer  and  die  in  his  two  others ;  and  for  these  portraits  he  has  scraped  together 
all  his  colour  from  the  many  such  passages  as  are  scattered  through  the  earlier  and 
longer  portion  of  North's  An/onius.  But  in  the  Fourth  Act  Shakespeare  changes  his 
method :  he  has  no  more  need  to  gather  and  arrange.  Rather  the  concentrated 
passion,  born  of,  and  contained  in,  North's  serried  narrative,  expands  in  his  verse — 
nay,  explodes  from  it — into  those  flashes  of  immortal  speech  which  have  given  the 
Fourth  Act  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  its  place  apart  even  in  Shakespeare.  Of  all 
that  may  be  said  of  North's  Plutarch,  this  perhaps  is  of  deepest  significance :  that 
every  dramatic  incident  in  Shakespeare's  Fourth  Act  is  contained  in  two,  and  in  his 
Fifth  Act,  in  one  and  a  half  folio  pages  of  the  Antonius, 

F.  S.  Boas  (p.  473) :  Certainly  in  consummate  delineation  of  character,  and  in 
the  superb  rhythmical  swell  of  many  passages,  the  work  is  unsurpassed.  But  it  has 
a  grave  share  of  the  defects  to  which  Romantic  Drama  had  been  liable  from  the  first, 
especially  when  it  was  drawing  upon  historical  materials.  .  .  .  Shakspere  seems  to 
have  felt  a  conscientious  obligation  to  introduce  every  incident,  political  or  private, 
mentioned  by  Plutarch,  and  the  result  is  a  loss  of  dramatic  unity  and  perspective. 
The  multiplicity  of  details  is  bewildering,  and  no  single  event  stands  out  boldly  as 
the  pivot  on  which  the  catastrophe  turns.  But  this  artistic  defect  is  here  in  part  the 
outcome  of  a  significant  peculiarity  in  Shakspere's  treatment  of  love  as  a  dramatic 
theme.  Sexual  passion  is  the  immediate  subject  of  only  three  plays,  Romeo  and 
Juliet ^  Troilus  and  Cressida^  and  Antony  and  Cleopatra.  In  each  case  the  emotional 
interest  is  interwoven  with  elements  of  a  political  nature — the  civil  strife  of  Mon- 
tagues and  Capulets,  the  war  between  the  Greeks  and  the  Trojans,  the  struggle  for 
the  lordship  of  the  Roman  world.  Thus  Shakspere,  even  when  making  an  elaborate 
study  of  amorous  passion,  does  not  isolate  it  from  the  wider,  more  material,  issues  of 
surrounding  civic  or  national  life.  He  thus  avoids  the  disastrous  pitfall  of  treating 
love  as  the  exclusive  factor  in  existence — a  method  which,  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  love  chosen  for  analysis,  tends  to  produce  an  unwholesome  sentimentality  or  a 
still  more  unwholesome  prurience.  Shakspere  opens  to  our  view  hearts  aflame  with 
chaste  aflection  or  with  sensuous  desire,  but  he  never  cheats  himself  or  others  into 
the  belief  that  sexual  relationship  is  the  solitary,  imperious  concern  of  all  mankind. 
From  the  kaleidoscopic  changes  of  Cleopatra's  moods  he  turns  our  gaze  to  the  legions 
tramping  in  solid  array  through  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  or  to  the  council- 
chambers  where  the  destinies  of  kingdoms  are  being  decided  by  the  stroke  of  a  pen. 
We  are  shown  in  turn  every  aspect  of  the  most  materialistic  age  in  the  world's  his- 
tory, the  age  when  Roman  civic  virtue  was,  in  its  death-throes,  suffocated  by  the 
plethora  of  its  golden  spoils  from  the  South  and  the  East. 

Thomas  R.  Lounsbury  (p.  96)  :  In  certain  ways  the  Antony  and  Cleopatra  of 
Shakespeare  is  one  of  the  most  astonishing  exhibitions  of  the  many  astonishing 
exhibitions  the  poet  has  afforded  of  that  almost  divine  insight  and  intuition  which 


y 


488 


APPENDIX 


enabled  him  to  comprehend  at  a  glance  that  complete  whole  of  which  other  men, 
after  painful  toil,  learn  but  a  beggarly  part.  The  student  of  ancient  history  can  find 
in  the  play  occasional  disregard  of  precise  dates.  He  can  discover,  in  some  cases,  a 
sequence  of  events  which  is  not  in  absolutely  strict  accord  with  the  account  of  them 
that  has  been  handed  down.  But  from  no  investigation  of  records,  from  no  inter- 
pretation of  texts,  will  he  ever  arrive  at  so  clear  and  vivid  a  conception  of  the  char- 
acters of  the  actors  who  then  took  part  in  the  struggle  for  the  supremacy  of  the  world. 
Nowhere  in  ancient  story  or  song  will  he  find,  as  here,  the  light  which  enables  him 
to  see  the  men  as  they  are.  It  is  a  gorgeous  gallery  in  which  each  personage  stands 
out  so  distinct  that  there  is  no  danger  of  misapprehension  or  confusion  as  to  the  parts 
they  fill.  Antony  appears  the  soldier  and  voluptuary  he  was,  swayed  alternately  by 
love,  by  regret,  by  ambition,  at  one  moment  the  great  ruler  of  the  divided  world,  at 
the  next  recklessly  flinging  his  future  away  at  the  dictation  of  a  passionate  caprice; 
Qeopatra,  true  to  no  interest,  fascinating,  treacherous,  charming  with  her  grace  those 
"^  whom  she  revolts  by  her  conduct,  luring  the  man  she  half  loves  to  a  ruin  which 
involves  herself  in  his  fate ;  Octavius,  cool,  calculating,  never  allowing  his  heart  to 
gain,  either  for  good  or  evil,  the  better  of  his  head,  showing  in  early  youth  the  self- 
restraint,  the  caution,  the  knowledge  of  the  world  which  belong  to  advancing  years; 
the  feeble  Lepidus,  striving  to  act  the  part  of  a  reconciler  to  the  two  mighty  oppo- 
sites,  with  whom  the  irony  of  fate  has  thrown  him  into  conjunction  :  these  and  half- 
a-dozen  minor  characters  appear  painted  in  clear  and  sharp  outline  on  the  crowded 
canvas  of  Shakespeare;  while  in  attendance,  like  the  chorus  of  a  Greek  tragedy, 
stands  Enobarbus,  commenting  on  every  incident  of  the  great  world-drama  which  is 
acted  before  his  eyes,  ominously  foreboding  the  declining  fortunes  of  his  diief  in 
the  moral  ruin  which  carries  with  it  prostration  of  the  intellect,  and  pointing  to  the 
inevitable  catastrophe  of  shame  and  dishonor  to  which  events  are  hurrying. 

Richard  Garnett  (English  Literature^  etc.,  ii,  243)  :  The  close  relationship 
between  Antony  and  Cleopatra  and  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,  is  shown  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that,  though  only  Pericles  was  printed,  both  were  entered  for  publication 
on  the  same  day.  May  20,  1 608.  Which  was  first  written  cannot  be  known ;  the 
probability  is  that  some  play  entirely  from  Shakespeare's  hand  would  intervene 
between  two,  like  Timon  and  Pericles,  produced  with  the  help  of  collaborators.  The 
question,  however,  is  not  material,  for  both  show  Shakespeare's  restoration  to  a  sane 
and  cheerful  view  of  life.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  is  pre-eminently  the  work  of  one 
interested  in  the  *  world's  great  business.'  Hardly  anywhere  else  is  there  such  bustle, 
such  variety,  such  zest  for  political  and  military  affairs.  Shakespeare  is  thoroughly 
in  charity  with  his  principal  characters.  His  treatment  of  Cleopatra  is  purely  objec- 
tive, there  is  no  trace  of  personal  resentment,  as  in  his  portrait  of  Cressida.  In 
Antony  he  has  marvellously  depicted  'the  average  sensual  man,'  on  a  far  lower 
plane  than  a  noble  idealist  like  Brutus,  but  still  capable  of  deep  human  feeling.  This 
was  shown  in  Julius  Casar,  by  the  great  speeches  begiiming  *  O  pardon  me,  thoa 
'  bleeding  piece  of  earth,'  and  '  This  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all.'  In  Antmy 
and  Cleopatra  this  depth  of  feeling  is  entirely  devoted  to  a  woman  ;  and  so  intense, 
especially  under  the  influence  of  jealousy,  so  sincere,  so  single-minded,  save  for  one 
vacillation  under  stress  of  politics,  is  it  that  we  overlook  the  fact  that  we  have  before 
us  an  Antony  in  decay,  no  longer  able  to  sway  the  Roman  multitude  or  school  Octavius. 
Wisdom  and  policy  are  gone  forever,  even  martial  honour  is  dimmed,  hut  love  makes 
amends  for  all.     Such  a  picture  necessarily  implies  a  corresponding  brilliancy  in  tbe 


ENGLISH  CRITICISM— COURTHOPE  489 

portrait  of  Qeopatra,  and  it  is  needless  to  remark  that  she  is  perhaps  the  most  wonder- 
ful of  all  Shakespeare's  studies  of  female  character.  He  follows  Plutarch's  deline- 
ation closely,  but  performs  the  same  miracle  upon  it  as  Venus  wrought  upon  the 
effigy  of  Galatea :  a  beautiful  image  becomes  a  living  being.  Perhaps  the  keynote 
of  the  personality  is  what  Shakespeare  terms  <  her  infinite  variety ' ;  there  is  room  in 
her  for  every  phase  of  female  character.  The  same  amplitude  characterises  the  play 
itself,  with  its  great  sweep  in  time  and  place,  its  continual  changes  of  scene,  its  crowd 
of  personages,  its  multitude  of  speeches  and  profusion  of  poetical  imagery.  The  con- 
trast with  Julius  Casar  is  instructive.  There  the  interest  is  more  concentrated,  the 
characterisation  more  minute,  and  the  execution  more  laborious.  The  ease  with 
which  Shakespeare  handles  his  theme  in  the  later  play,  and  the  plasticity  of  the 
entire  subject  in  his  hands,  manifest  the  perfection  of  his  art  by  dint  of  practice,  but 
impair  the  effectiveness  of  his  piece  on  the  stage.  The  actor  has  fewer  grand  oppor- 
tunities than  of  yore,  and  although  the  drama  is  resplendent  with  poetical  phrases, 
there  are  few  sustained  outbursts  of  passion  or  eloquence.  The  impersonation  of 
Cleopatra,  moreover,  demands  an  actress  of  mature  years.  In  Shakespeare's  time 
there  was  no  difficulty,  for  there  were  no  actresses.  The  representation  of  his  Qeo- 
patra  by  a  boy  strikes  us  now  as  indescribably  farcical. 

W.  J.  CouRTHOPE  (IV,  178) :  Antony's  character  in  its  extraordinary  versatility — 
orator,  soldier  and  debauchee ;  a  Henry  V.  without  his  power  of  self-control — fur- 
nished one  of  those  contradictory  problems  of  human  nature  which  Shakespeare  was 
accustomed  to  study  with  the  most  sympathetic  insight ;  and  the  meretricious  fasci- 
nation of  Geopatra,  as  recorded  by  Plutarch,  joined  (for  she  is  no  Cressida)  to  a 
certain  greatness  of  soul  and  fidelity  of  passion,  must  have  struck  the  poet's  imagi- 
nation by  its  likeness,  as  well  as  its  contrast,  to  some  woman  whose  character  he 
painted  in  his  Sonnets,  The  use  of  the  word  *  will '  in  this  remarkable  play  is 
noticeable.  When  Antony  has  left  the  battle  of  Actium,  to  his  own  dishonour,  in 
pursuit  of  the  flying  Qeopatra,  the  queen  asks  the  shrewd,  worldly,  and  calculat- 
ing Enobarbus,  who  is  introduced  into  the  play  as  a  kind  of  chorus  to  comment  on 
Antony  and  his  fortunes :  '  Is  Antony  or  we  in  fault  for  this  ? '     Enobarbus  replies : 

*  Antony  only,  that  would  make  his  will  Lord  of  his  reason.'  (Ill,  xiii.)  Yet  Antony 
throughout  the  play  recognises  that  he  is  acting  against  his  deliberate  resolution, 
under  the  irresistible  influence  of  passion  :  *  I  followed  that  I  blush  to  look  upon : 
'  My  very  hairs  do  mutiny  ;  for  the  white  Reprove  the  brown  for  rashness,  and  they 

<  them  For  fear  and  doting.'  (Ill,  xi.)    So  that  his  conduct  is  what  lago  calls '  merely 

<  a  lust  of  the  blood  and  permission  of  the  will.'  (I,  iii.)  This  is  the  very  helpless- 
ness of  passion  spoken  of  in  Sonnet  cl. :  *0,  from  what  power  hast  thon  this  pow- 

*  erful  might  With  insufficiency  my  heart  to  sway  ?  To  make  me  give  the  lie  to  my 
'  true  sight  And  swear  that  brightness  doth  not  grace  the  day  ?    Whence  hast  thou 

*  this  becoming  of  things  ill.  That  in  the  very  refuse  of  thy  deeds  There  is  such 

*  strength  and  warrantise  of  skill  That,  in  my  mind,  thy  worst  all  best  exceeds? ' 

H.  W.  Mabie  (p.  271 )  :  Antony  and  Cleopatra  b  the  drama  of  the  East  and 
West  in  mortal  collision  of  ideals  and  motives,  and  the  East  succumbs  to  the  superior 
fibre  and  more  highly  organized  character  of  the  West  Qeopatra  is  the  greatest  of 
the  enchantresses.  She  has  wit,  grace,  humour;  the  intoxication  of  sex  breathes 
from  her ;  she  unites  the  pa<;sion  of  a  great  temperament  with  the  fathomless  coquetry 
of  a  courtesan  of  genius.    She  is  passionately  alive,  avid  of  sensation,  consumed  with 


490  APPENDIX 

love  of  pleasure,  imperious  in  her  demands  for  that  absolute  homage  wliich  slays 
honour  and  saps  manhood  at  the  very  springs  of  its  power.  This  superb  embodiment 
of  femininity,  untouched  by  pity  and  untroubled  by  conscience,  has  a  compelling 
charm,  born  in  the  mystery  of  passion  and  taking  on  the  radiance  of  a  thousand 
moods  which  melt  into  one  another  in  endless  succession,  as  if  there  were  no  limit  to 
the  resources  of  her  temperament  and  the  sorceries  of  her  beauty.  Of  her  alone  has 
the  greatest  of  poets  dared  to  declare  that  '  age  cannot  wither  her,  nor  custom  stale 
'her  infinite  variety. 'i  It  is  this  magnificence  which  invests  Qeopatra^s  criminality 
with  a  kind  of  sublimity,  so  vast  is  the  scale  of  her  being  and  so  tremendous  the  force 
of  her  passions.  The  depth  of  Shakespeare's  poetic  art  and  the  power  of  his  imagi- 
nation are  displayed  in  their  full  compass  in  Antony  and  CUopatra, 

A.  C.  Bradley  {Quarterly  Revirw^  April,  1 906,  p.  350) :  Why  is  it  that,  although 
f  we  close  the  book  in  a  triumph  which  is  more  than  reconciliation,  this  is  mingled,  as 

we  look  back  on  the  story,  with  a  sadness  so  peculiar,  almost  the  sadness  of  disen- 
chantment ?  Is  it  that,  when  the  glow  has  faded,  Cleopatra's  ecstasy  comes  to  appear, 
I  would  not  say  factitious,  but  an  effort  strained  and  prodigious  as  well  as  glorious, 
not,  like  Othello's  last  speech,  the  final  expression  of  character,  of  thoughts  and 
emotions  which  have  dominated  a  whole  life  ?  Perhaps  this  is  so,  but  there  is  some- 
thing more,  something  that  sounds  paradoxical :  we  are  saddened  by  the  very  fkt 
that  the  catastrophe  saddens  us  so  little ;  it  pains  us  that  we  should  feel  so  much  tri- 
j  umph  and  pleasure.     In  <  Romeo  and  Juliet,'  '  Hamlet,'  *  Othello,'  though  in  a  sense 

\  we  accept  the  deaths  of  hero  and  heroine,  we  feel  a  keen  sorrow.     We  look  back, 

think  how  noble  or  beautiful  they  were,  wish  that  fate  had  opposed  to  them  a  weaker 
enemy,  dream  possibly  of  the  life  they  might  then  have  led.  Here  we  can  hardly 
do  this.  With  all  our  admiration  and  sympathy  for  the  lovers  we  do  not  wish  them 
to  gain  the  world.  It  is  better  for  the  world's  sake,  and  not  less  for  thdr  own,  that 
they  should  fail  and  die.  At  the  very  first  they  came  before  us,  unlike  those  others, 
anlike  Coriolanus  and  even  Macbeth,  in  a  glory  already  tarnished,  half-mined  by 
their  past.  Indeed  one  source  of  strange  and  most  unusual  effect  in  their  stoiy  is 
that  this  marvellous  passion  comes  to  adepts  in  the  experience  and  art  of  passion, 
who  might  be  expected  to  have  worn  its  charm  away.  Its  splendour  daseles  us ; 
but,  when  the  splendour  vanishes,  we  do  not  mourn,  as  we  mourn  for  the  love  of 
Romeo  or  Othello,  that  a  thing  so  bright  and  good  should  die.  And  the  &u:t  that 
we  mourn  so  litde  saddens  us. 

A  comparison  of  Shakespearean  tragedies  seems  to  prove  that  the  tragic  emotions 
are  stirred  in  the  fullest  possible  measure  only  when  such  beauty  or  nobility  of  char- 
acter is  displayed  as  commands  unreserved  admiration  or  love ;  or  when,  in  default 
I  of  this,  the  forces  which  move  the  agents,  and  the  conflict  which  results  from  these 

i  forces,  attain  a  terrifying  and  overwhelming  power.     The  four  most  famous  tngedies 

satisfy  one  or  both  of  these  conditions ;  '  Antony  and  Cleopatra,'  though  a  grtft 

tragedy,  satisfies  neither  of  them  completely.    But  to  say  this  is  not  to  critidse  it  It 

I  does  not  attempt  to  satisfy  these  conditions,  and  then  fail  in  the  attempt    It  attempt 

,  something  different,  and  succeeds  as  triumphantly  as  'Othello*  itself.     In  doing » 

I  it  gives  us  what  no  other  tragedy  can  give,  and  it  leaves  us,  no  less  than  any  other, 

lost  in  astonishment  at  the  powers  which  created  it 


GERMAN  CRITICISM^GOETHE 


GERMAN  CRITICISM 


491 


Goethe  (Shakespeare  und  kein  Ende^  1S13,  {  l):  Be  another  remark  here 
made :  it  will  be  difficult  to  find  a  second  poet  in  whose  separate  works  there  is 
always  a  different  conception  operative  and  throughout  effective,  as  can  be  demon- 
strated in  Shakespeare's  various  plays.  Thus  throughout  Coriolanus  there  runs  the 
vexation  that  the  common  people  will  not  recognise  the  pre-eminence  of  their  superiors. 
In  Julius  Casar  everything  revolves  about  the  idea  that  the  upper  classes  are  unwill- 
ing to  see  the  highest  position  occupied,  because  they  vainly  imagine  that  they  can 
be  effective  as  a  body  corporate.  In  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  it  is  proclaimed  with  a 
thousand  tongues  that  self-indulgence  and  achievement  are  incompatible. 

G.  G.  Gervinus  (ii,  315)  :  There  arises,  moreover,  an  ethical  objection  [to  this 
play]  which  will  prejudice  the  majority  of  readers  against  it,  and  against  Coleridge's 
opinion  of  it.  Among  the  Dramatis  Persona  there  is  no  great  and  noble  character, 
and  in  the  actions  of  the  drama,  no  really  elevating  feature,  either  in  its  politics  or 
in  its  love-affairs.  This  play  seems  to  make  us  intuitively  aware  how  much  we 
should  lose  in  Shakespeare,  if,  with  his  confessedly  great  knowledge  of  men  and 
nature,  there  did  not  go,  hand  in  hand,  aesthetic  excellence  (the  ideal  concentration 
of  actors  and  actions),  and  ethical  excellence  (the  ideal  height  of  what  is  represented 
as  human  nature).  The  poet  had  to  set  forth  a  debased  period  in  his  Antony  and 
Cleopatra ;  for  the  truth  of  history,  he  did  so  adequately ;  but  this  did  not  exclude 
him  from  giving  a  glance  at  a  better  state  of  human  nature,  which,  amid  so  much 
degradation,  might  comfort  and  elevate  us.  If  we  recall  the  Historical  Plays,  where 
Shakespeare  had  to  depict  generations,  for  the  most  part  degenerate  and  ruined,  we 
shall  find  that  in  Richard  II,  there  was,  as  a  compensation,  a  Gaunt  and  a  Carlisle  ; 
and  even  in  Richard  III,  the  few  strokes  that  depicted  the  sons  of  Edward,  are  a 
beneficent  counterpoise  to  the  wide-spread  wickedness.  Here,  however,  there  is 
nothing  of  the  kind,  and  we  may  even  affirm  that  the  opportunity  for  such  a  counter- 
balance has  been  conspicuously  evaded :  it  would  surely  have  been  easy,  in  the  char- 
acter of  Octavia  at  least,  to  keep  before  us  some  views  of  what  is  more  noble  in 
human  nature ;  even  if  it  were  by  only  a  few  traits,  which  would  have  exhibited  her 
to  us  in  action,  where  now  she  is  merely  described  to  us  in  words.  Let  me  introduce 
an  observation  here,  which  will  set  this  singular  defect  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  in 
a  still  stronger  light.  It  seems  to  us.  in  truth,  as  though  Shakespeare,  about  1607- 
10,  had,  we  will  not  say  a  period  but,  seasons  when  he  composed  his  poetry,  in  gen- 
eral, somewhat  more  carelessly,  be  it  regarded  either  aesthetically  or  ethically.  What 
may  have  been  the  cause  of  that  which  is  here  conjectured,  we  can  hardly  fathom. 
It  is,  indeed,  possible,  that  at  about  this  time  his  aversion  to  everything  pertaining 
to  the  theatre,  might  have  seized  him  more  strongly ;  it  may  be  also  possible,  that 
some  indications  of  physical  exhaustion  had  already  set  in,  and  that  these  may  have 
been  the  cause  of  his  retirement,  and  the  first  intimation  of  his  early  death.*  Be  the 
cause  what  it  may,  of  the  more  negligent  treatment  of  some  works  of  this  period,  the 
fact  itself  seems  incontestible. 


♦  Shakespeare  died  at  the  age  of  fifty-two  years.  This  is  early,  but  not  quite  as 
early  as  is  often  supposed.  An  average  of  the  ages  of  JoNSON,  Beaumont,  Fletcher, 
Marston,  Middleton,  Greene,  Burbadge,  Rowley,  Peele,  and  Massinger 
is  forty-nine  years  and  three-tenths. — Ed. 


^g2  APPENDIX 

(Page  31S) :  We  might  immgine  that  he  has  placed  the  fhjif  Ins  of  Aatoof  aad 
Cleopaira  in  a  moie  advantagcoos  light  than  was  hrfating,  and  ckiched  the  voli^ 
tnaries  with  a  certain  exalted  splendour,  that  becrars  a  decided  paitzabtf  for  then. 
Bat  whatcTer  he  did  in  thb  rcsfxct,  was  nadoahtedlj  done,  acK  horn  wool  Icvky, 
hot  for  aesthetic  parpckscs.  Had  Shakespeare  taken  Antonj  exactlj  as  he  iamaA  hni 
in  Plataich,  neTcr  wonkl  he  hare  been  ai^ie  to  represent  hiat  as  a  tnig;ic 
or  ha^e  excited  an  interest  in  him  in  his  relations  with  Qeoftttn. ...  It  is 
fill,  how  Sbakc^>eare  so  prcserred  the  hitlnnrai  iieatares  of  AmoBj's 
on  the  one  hand,  not  to  make  him  nnrecognixahle,  and  jet,  om.  the  other,  to  Bake  of 
an  attractiTe  personage. 


Paul  Heysk  {^lutrwL  U  Tramu  ed.  Bodcwstrdi,  pL  t,  1S67) :  Two  atfsres  are 
here  brov^t  in  contact,  which,  in  good  qoalitics  as  well  as  bad,  arc  as 
complemental  to  each  other,  as  thesr  dcratiaQ  is  hi^  above  die  avenge  of 
A  roler  of  the  imirene,  who  has  tasted  to  the  last  drop  all  thM  die  worid  ofiecs  hack 
of  toil  and  of  sdf-inddgenoe,  Bteets  a  qoecn  who  caa  abo  S7  that  BO«hiag 
alien  to  her.  Both  stand  at  the  rcrw  highest  hcT.<iay  of  iiie,  aad  are  m 
faOaess  of  their  pow«rs^  Lof^  bcfcre  reaching  this  pocmt,  bo^  woakl  have  been,  ia 
Bodera  phrase.  Mkift,  Ittd  not  the  iaexhasssibZe,  classic  life  of  the 
each  of  thcB  wi&  etenuJ  Toai^  Tbos  catsre,  br  a  species  of 
to  each  o&er  ;  each  bdMSds  a  reoognssed  ooBatcrpait  ia  the  oppnale  sex.  It  is  ia 
ho^aiMl  pasBioB,  which,  becaase  its  the  bst,  hSaaes  ap  widi  all  the  iateziBty  of 

it  makes  ^ese  two  matxic 

KS  ever  a  Ro^eo  or  a  JafieC, 
aO  daaigeis  of  ^ear  taae.  adJ  aD  dxties  of  &esr 


aaxi  hai  redaced  !&esr  ?«*rrrM  i*i'ig 
wiih  al  the  rcftaenesc  of  xa 

|(Hge  Ti>  :  Up  00  this  pvocae  [ 
pat3a}t&r  (CBoal  ps&2Sc  w:2 
padnr.     Tbas  im  he  ^Sers 


sar^^naoas  w*eakse9Bies 


vcBBxnx^  """"^^  sees  sn^ 
ia  iW  «ccxaca  d[  "^ht  sbkxcxt.  i£  chos  i:^ 
iC  :!feK«a{:Va£  ^»  tcsc  ^  ^d»t  pby,  le 
■a  srr  cfonrav.  ;^  ppcdidiri^ciZ  jjr^&fleu.  ^iwitf^  loe 
fc»  a  t^haaMCc  ««Luijijiams£.     Ti«  am^e^cjat  rf  a 
iaa£  due  ii  jL-^scirg*^  S:i&  scs£«  «tT»f 
rf  1^  jwK.  |ies^acv  S».-r?  ins 

iir  the  «arf«esc  senses  rf  :&»  O 
w^ndk^  rcita:  ir  a 
<aft  die  ijaa  «- \as  <aB  a  'heBnacdies?  ix 

lihttt  aa£  ^thea  nriy  car  w«^  sase  ^d^  a^oaae  <rf 
Kift  w^  dae  %i^  idm:^  w^n^d::  !&e  hirnr  rf 


GERMAN  CRITICISM'-^TEN  BRINK  4^3 

in  us.  I  must  deny  myself  the  illustration  by  separate  examples  of  that  lavish  exuber- 
ance of  characteristics  wherewith  the  hand  of  genius  has  set  forth  the  figure  of  the 
Egyptian  Queen.  I  honestly  believe  it  to  be  the  very  greatest  masterpiece  of  female 
characterisation ;  alongside  of  which  there  can  be  placed  no  more  richly  devised  figure 
in  the  whole  literature  of  modem  romance,  whereof  the  strength  lies  in  psychologic 
analysis  and  vivid  contrasts.  With  equal  poetic  power  and  depth  is  the  character  of 
Anthony  depicted  to  the  very  last;  both  are  to  be  measured  separately,  just  as  both 
separately  are  overtaken  by  a  fate  so  completely  interwoven  that  the  flame  of  passion, 
which  transfigures  them  at  the  close  with  a  wondrous  glory,  reflects  its  glow  back  to 
the  beginning  of  the  play  and  illumines  many  a  shadow.  The  scholastic  view,  which 
turns  Shakespeare  into  a  conscientious  moralist,  above  all  things  anxious  to  display, 
in  the  fate  of  mortab,  the  equipoise  of  guilt  and  expiation,  appears,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
in  no  single  play  in  such  embarrassing  perplexity  as  in  the  presence  of  this  tragedy ; 
which  undoubtedly  preaches  with  a  hundred  tongues  the  lesson,  in  Goethe's  striking 
words,  that  « self-indulgence  and  achievement  are  incompatible.*  But  a  single  prin- 
ciple, founded  on  experience,  and,  among  others,  objectively  contained  in  a  poem, 
cannot  on  that  account  claim  to  be  considered  the  soul  of  the  whole  work.  If  the 
poet  had  chosen  this  material  in  order  to  warn  the  world  against  being  fooled  by 
self-indulgence,  because  it  disables  the  power  of  achievement,  he  would  have  devised 
the  development  very  differently.  In  spite  of  the  gross  stain  wherewith  this  hero 
of  self-indulgence,  this  heroic  roui,  has  defiled  himself,  his  character  decidedly  over- 
shadows the  discreet,  cool,  efficient,  and,  in  fact,  victorious  rival.  Extremely  few 
readers  will  waver  in  their  choice  as  to  which  they  would  give  the  preference,  to  the 
cold-blooded  Csesar  or  to  the  warm-blooded  Marc  Anthony.  And  even  an  audience 
of  women  would  not  remain  insensible  to  Geopatra's  charm.  But  if  a  majority  could 
be  really  found,  who,  in  spite  of  the  tragic  downfall,  did  not  cease  to  deem  the  aristo- 
cratic autocracy  of  these  natures  as  criminal,  the  minority  could  console  themselves 
that  they  had  on  their  own  side  the  poet  himself.  There  arose  before  him  the  dazzl- 
ing apparition  of  such  a  pair,  that  '  stood  up  peerless,'  and  it  stimulated  his  creative 
power.  Whatsoever  was  holy  and  unholy  in  such  a  tie,  everything  that  an  average 
morality  could  plead  against  it,  was  undoubtedly  as  ever  present  to  him  as  to  his 
critics  of  today.  And  although  it  may  not  have  stood  written  in  histoiy,  his  higher 
comprehension  and  knowledge  of  the  world  taught  him  the  inflexible  law  that  even 
the  most  highly  endowed  man  must  succumb  as  soon  as  he  '  would  make  his  will 
'  Lord  of  his  reason.'  Shakespeare,  with  his  incorruptible  honesty,  neither  concealed 
all  this,  nor  adorned  it.  Nay,  there  are  traces  of  even  a  certain  defiance  in  the  sharp 
prominence  given  to  what  is  hateful  and  mean.  He  allows  it  freely  to  unfold  itself 
in  sharp  realistic  features  of  every-day  life.  In  his  heart,  however,  he  is  aware  that 
he  has  but  to  await  the  propitious  moment  to  melt  all  this  dross  into  an  irresistible 
glow  and  refine  it.  He  could  not  have  been  the  poet  that  he  is,  the  richly  endowed 
son  of  Mother  Nature,  had  he  not  known  himself  to  be  a  blood  relation  to  whatso- 
ever of  nobility  she  had  brought  forth.  When  he  saw,  in  this  pair,  the  powers  of  a 
luxurious  life  bloom  forth  and  wither  in  obedience  to  the  law  of  all  earthly  things,  a 
tragic  pain  broke  from  his  heart,  which  had  no  rest  until  he  had  adorned  their  grave 
with  all  the  treasures  of  poesy,  and,  by  the  most  affecting  funeral  ceremony,  rendered 
their  death  immortal. 

B.  Ten  Brink  (p.  90) :  In  Antony  and  Cleopatra^  the  third  in  the  series  of  Roman 
dramas,  we  see,  for  the  first  time  since  Romeo  and  Juliet ^  a  woman  share  on  an  equal 


494 


APPENDIX 


footing  with  the  principal  character  in  the  action  of  a  Shakespearean  tragedy.  Bat 
what  a  contrast  between  Juliet  and  Qeopatra  :  one,  a  young  girl,  hardly  DX>re  than 
a  child,  whom  the  might  of  a  pure  and  unselfish  passion  transforms  into  a  womany 
whose  whole  being  is  absorbed  by  this  love  which  consummates  her  character  and 
her  life ;  the  other,  a  courtesan  of  genius,  if  I  may  say  so,  with  experience  of  life 
and  the  world,  devoted  to  pleasure,  practiced  in  all  the  arts  of  seduction,  endowed 
by  nature  with  an  alluring  witchery,  to  whom  the  fire  of  her  love  for  Antony  alone 
lends  a  glimmer  of  womanly  dignity.  Artistically  considered,  Qeopatra  is,  perhaps, 
the  masterpiece  among  Shakespeare's  female  characters;  given  the  problem,  Shake- 
speare has  solved  it  as  no  one  else  could  have  done.  But  what  conflicts  most  his 
soul  have  endured,  what  bitter  experiences  must  he  have  passed  through,  to  have  set 
himself  such  a  problem,  to  have  created  a  woman  so  widely  different  from  all  those 
he  had  pictured  before — a  woman  so  devoid  of  the  ideal  womanly  graces,  yet  so 
irresistible,  for  whose  sake  Antony  sacrifices  the  dominion  of  the  world. 

Carl  Philips  i^Lokalfdrbung  in  Shakespeare's  Dramm,  p.  32,  K5ln,  1887) : 
When  we  consider  all  these  various  points  in  retrospect,  the  conclusion  is  inevitable 
that  Shakespeare,  in  his  climatic  and  geographical  references  to  the  native  land  of 
Qeopatra,  remains  first  of  all  a  poet  unsurpassed  in  truth  to  nature.     Every  student 
of  geography,  even  without  any  thought  of  Egypt  in  his  mind,  would  at  once  assign 
the  land  represented  in  this  play  to  a  chartographic  zone  wherein  the  climate,  the 
flora,  the  fauna,  and  the  human  race  were  all  thoroughly  consistent     And  at  the 
same  time  the  poet  has  striven  to  reflect  symbolically,  in  the  character  of  the  land 
itself  and  especially  in  its  animal  life,  the  fatal  nature  of  the  passion  of  the  hero  and 
heroine — an  aim  which  he  has  attained  with  his  usual  supremacy.     Finally,  the  poet 
has  given,  as  an  illustration,  an  historical  law,  founded  in  the  nature  of  all  races. 
Wheresoever  the  inhabitants  of  any  country  in  which  nature  yields  her  gifU  in  lavish, 
prodigal  profusion,  suffer  themselves,  by  this  profusion  to  be  seduced  to  a  love  of 
pleasure,  from  that  hour  they  are  doomed  to  decay,  and  must  become  subject  to  an 
alien  race  from  rougher  climates.     Without  assuming  that  it  was  the  poet*s  first  or 
chief  intention  to  give  a  proof  of  this,  we  can  at  least  assert  that,  with  a  small  expen- 
diture of  means,  he  has  supplied  it     At  all  events,  in  the  drama  before  us,  Shake- 
speare has  penetrated  to  the  creative  power  of  Nature  and  has  overheard  her  secrets ; 
with   greater  truth  can  he  say  of  himself,  what  the  Soothsayer  claims  with  self- 
conscious  modesty,  that  'in  Nature's  infinite  book  of  secrecy  a  little  I  can  read.' 
However  widely  critics  may  differ  in  their  views  of  our  poet's  artistic  power  and  per- 
fection they  are  of  one  mind  in  a  recognition  of  the  uniformity  of  his  local  colouring. 
In  conclusion  let  me  quote  the  remarks  of  ROmelin  at  the  close  of  his  criticism  of  the 
Roman  plays :  *  Although  Shakespeare  makes  his  Roman  heroes  think  and  speak 

*  like  English  lords  and  barons,'  says  Rilmelin,*  *  he  knew  how  to  impart  to  his  plays 
'  and  to  his  characters  a  very  effective  geogrraphic  nuance  \  if  he  imagined  himself  in 

*  any  particular  country,  his  phantasy  assumed  a  certain  tinct  which  diffused  itself 

*  over  every  object.     Throughout  Macbeth,  Hamlet,  Lear  there  blows  a  keen  north- 

*  em  wind,  but  in  Romeo,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice  from  the  very  first  we  feel  the 
'southern  warmth.     In  like  manner,   these  Roman  plays  seem  to  have  a  similar 

*  local  colour,  a  warmer  tone,  as  far  as  they  may  be  said  to  have  any  specific  tone 
'at  all.' 


*  Shakespearestudien,  p.  108,  1 866. 


FRENCH  CRITICISM— PASCAL 


495 


Karl  Frenzel  (Berliner  Dramaturgies  25  May,  187 1,  i,  258)  :  Qeopatra  is 
of  the  race  of  Semiramis  and  of  Zeoobia,  between  her  and  Antony  there  is  enacted 
not  merely  a  love-story  but  a  great  political  undertaking.  Along  side  of  the  riotous 
festivities  of  Alexandria  there  was  advancing  a  powerful  political  and  social  move- 
ment  which  was  to  shake  the  world.  On  this  rock,  of  which  he  was  only  dimly  con- 
scious, rather  than  clearly  perceiving  it,  Shakespeare's  poetry  was  wrecked.  It  is 
not  the  continuous  shifting  of  the  scene,  whereby  we  are  chased  as  though  by  a 
storm  from  Alexandria  to  Rome  on  board  of  Pompey's  galley,  from  Rome  to  Actium, 
and  back  to  Alexandria ;  it  is  not  the  messengers,  the  servants,  the  guards,  who 
necessarily,  by  their  news,  spin  out  the  thread  of  the  action,  that  break  up  and  shat- 
ter the  dramatic  unity ;  it  is  the  material  itself,  as  Shakespeare  has  comprehended 
it,  which  has  remained  in  the  epic  form  of  a  chronicle.  The  poet  has  neither 
known  how,  out  of  the  numberless  persons,  to  select  the  most  important,  nor,  out  of 
the  superabundance  of  circumstances,  to  eliminate  the  weightiest ;  consequently  the 
drama  lacks  genuine  core  and  deliquesces  like  pap  \breiariig\.  In  not  a  single  instance 
is  the  contrast  between  Antony  and  Octavius  sharply  defined,  and  the  perpetual  love- 
making  of  the  hero  and  heroine,  which  rises  and  falls  in  a  monotonous  alternation 
from  tender  cooing  to  furious  execrations,  is  at  first  comic,  but  at  last  tedious.  Very 
possibly,  admirers  of  Shakespeare  may  accept  it  differently,  but  to  my  taste,  a  good 
third  of  the  speeches  of  Antony  and  of  Cleopatra  trenches  close  on  the  bombast  of  the 
weaker  tragedy  of  G>meille.  There  is  no  attempt  at  a  development  of  character  in 
the  grand  style;  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  Cleopatra  is  a  quarrelsome  woman, 
who,  in  the  scenes  with  the  messenger  and  with  Seleucus,  strikingly  proves  that,  on 
the  old  English  stage  such  rdles  of  Furies  and  fish-wives  could  have  been  played  only 
by  young  men,  for  whom  they  were  written. 


FRENCH   CRITICISM 

Pascal  (Fensies,  Premiire  Partie,  Article  IX ^  No,  xlvi)  :  Si  le  nex  de  G6opAtre 
eftt  kXh  plus  court,  toute  la  face  de  la  terre  aurait  change. 

M.  GuizoT  {Notice,  Translation)  :  There  is  in  Antony  a  combination  of  strength 
and  of  weakness ;  inconstancy  and  fickleness  are  his  attributes ;  generous,  sensible, 
impassioned,  but  volatile  he  affords  a  proof  that,  with  an  extreme  love  of  pleasure,  a 
man  of  his  temperament  can,  when  circumstances  require  it,  combine  a  lofty  soul, 
capable  of  the  noblest  resolves,  but  who  will  for  ever  yield  to  the  seductions  of  a 
woman.  Cleopatra  is  the  voluptuous  and  designing  courtesan  that  history  depicts ; 
like  Antony  she  is  full  of  contrasts ;  she  is,  by  turn,  vain  as  a  coquette  and  majestic  as 
a  queen ;  fickle  in  her  thirst  for  pleasures,  and  sincere  in  her  love  for  Antony ;  she 
seems  created  for  him,  and  he  for  her.  If  her  passion  lacks  the  dignity  of  tragedy, — 
how  misfortune  ennobles  it !  How  she  rises  to  the  grandeur  of  her  rank  by  the  hero- 
ism of  her  last  moments  !  Worthy  indeed,  does  she  show  herself  to  share  Antony's 
tomb ! 

H.  A.  Taine  (i,  328) :  How  much  more  visible  is  this  impassioned  and  unfettered 
genius  of  Shakespeare  in  the  great  characters  which  sustain  the  whole  weight  of  the 
drama  !  The  startling  imagination,  the  furious  velocity  of  the  manifold  and  exuberant 
ideas,  the  unruly  passion,  rushing  upon  death  and  crime,  hallucinations,  madness, 
all  the  ravages  of  delirium  bursting  through  will  and  reason :  such  are  the  forces  and 


496 


APPENDIX 


ravixigs  which  engender  them.  Shall  I  speak  of  dazzling  Qeopatra,  who  holds 
Antony  in  the  whirlwind  of  her  devices  and  caprices,  who  fascinates  and  kills,  who 
scatters  to  the  winds  the  lives  of  men  as  a  handful  of  desert-<lust,  the  fatal  Eastern 
sorceress  who  sports  with  life  and  death,  headstrong,  irresistible,  child  of  air  and 
fire,  whose  life  is  but  a  tempest,  whose  thought,  ever  re-pointed  and  broken,  is  like  the 
crackling  of  lightning? 

Paul  Staffer  (p.  398,  it  seq.) :  The  subject  of  Shakespeare's  tragedy  is  the 
guilty  love  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  a  subject  that  would  have  presented  an  almost 
insuperable  difficulty  to  a  poor  little  poet  of  a  narrow  and  mediocre  type ;  quite  at  a 
loss,  and  biting  his  pen  the  while,  he  would  have  said  to  himself,  *  What  is  to  be 
'  done  ?  Cleopatra  is  a  very  wicked  woman,  a  monster^  as  Horace  calls  her, — a 
'  mixture  of  all  we  most  hate  and  despise,  she  is  a  coquette,  timid,  cowardly,  cring- 
'  ing,  perfidious,  tyrannical,  cruel  and  wanton.  To  interest  decent  people  in  such  a 
'  creature  is  clearly  impossible,  except  by  making  a  selection  from  among  the  contra- 
'  dictory  features  of  her  character,  and  since  Plutarch  speaks  of  hor  as  being  occasion- 

*  ally  generous,  tender  and  devoted,  heroic  and  sublime,  I  must  convert  the  conception 
<  into  the  rule,  and  put  an  expurgated  Qeopatra  on  the  stage.*  But  Shakespeare 
reasoned  in  a  very  different  manner.  He  started  with  the  notion  of  Cleopatra  as  an 
enchantress,  and  he  trusted  with  quiet  confidence  to  the  power  of  his  poetry,  and  to 
his  sure  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  to  make  the  same  fascination  that  she  exer- 
cised over  her  lovers  be  felt  by  us  :  her  faults,  her  vices,  her  crimes — what  do  they 
matter  ?  Besides  which,  it  betrays  a  good  deal  of  simplicity  to  suppose  that  certain 
sins  which  are  repulsive  in  a  man  are  equally  odious  when  met  with  in  a  woman.  A 
man  is  ugly,  and  has  hard  work  to  atone  for  his  natural  ugliness,  but,  as  a  poet  has 
said, — and  it  is  no  empty  compliment,  but  an  astute  psychological  truth, — women,  do 
what  they  will,  are  always  charming :  *  On  en  pent,  par  hasard,  trouver  qui  sont 

*  m^chantes ;  Mais  qu*y  voulez  vous  faire  ?     Elles  ont  la  beaut6.'  ♦ 

Shakespeare  has  not  deemed  it  necessary  to  leave  out  any  of  the  stains,  big  or 
little,  in  Cleopatra's  character,  as  he  was  obliged  to  do  in  Antony's ;  and  this,  instead 
of  depriving  the  lovely  little  monster  of  a  single  charm,  only  makes  her  the  more 
irresistible. 

FRANgois- Victor  Hugo  (vol.  vii,  Introd.  p.  9,  ttseq,) :  That  which  strikes  us 
in  Pascal's  memorable  apothegm  on  the  destiny  of  man,  is  the  prodigious  dispro- 
portion between  the  fact  and  its  consequences,  between  the  means  and  its  results, 
between  the  premises  and  the  conclusion.  *  The  cause  is  a  yV  ff/  sats  quoi  and  its 
'  effects  are  terrifying.'  Thoroughly  to  comprehend  this  disproportion,  let  us  reduce 
to  its  lowest  terms  the  action  wherein  it.  occurs :  a  spendthrift,  smitten  with  a  cour- 
tesan whom  he  lavishly  supports,  decides,  in  order  to  repair  his  fortune,  to  marry  a 
woman  whom  he  does  not  love  ;  hardly  has  the  ceremony  been  concluded  before  he 
returns  to  his  mistress,  to  consume  with  her  the  dower  of  his  wife.  The  deserted 
wife  seeks  the  protection  of  her  brother,  who,  in  a  rage,  challenges  the  husband.  A 
duel  follows  ;  the  spendthrift  falls,  and  the  courtesan  in  despair  commits  soidde. — 
Suppose  that  the  events,  which  I  have  just  described,  took  place  in  the  narrow  circle 
of  bourgeoise  life, — what  will  be  the  result?  A  mere  domestic  tragedy,  whereof  the 
catastrophe  will  affect  only  some  few  lives  immediately  concerned.     On  the  other 

*  Alfred  de  Musset. 


FRENCH  CRITICISM— F.-VICTOR  HUGO 


497 


hand,  let  these  same  events  occur  in  the  very  highest  circle  of  public  life ;  let  the 
courtesan  be  called  Cleopatra,  and  let  her  wear  a  crown  ;  let  the  spendthrift  husband 
be  called  Antony  and  reign  over  the  EUist ;  and  let  the  brother  who  avenges  the 
insulted  wife  be  called  Octavius  and  be  master  of  the  Occident ;  then  the  whole 
known  world  will  find  itself  involved  in  a  household  quarrel ;  the  mourning  of  one 
family  will  bring  about  the  moummg  of  the  human  race.  The  earth  will  tremble 
beneath  the  tramp  of  armies,  the  sea  under  the  weight  of  fleets ;  nation  will  chal- 
lenge nation  and  both  rush  at  each  other;  Alexandria  will  hurl  defiance  at  Carthage; 
Rome  and  Athens  will  fly  at  each  other's  throats.  A  hundred  thousand  men,  twelve 
thousand  horses,  three  hundred  ships  will  hardly  suffice  to  uphold  the  cause  of  the 
courtesan ;  to  the  rescue  will  throng  Bocchus,  the  king  of  Libya,  Tarcodemus,  the 
king  of  Cilicia,  Archelaus,  the  king  of  Cappadocia,  Philadelphus,  the  king  of  Paph- 
lagonia,  Mithridates,  the  king  of  Commagena,  Adallas,  the  king  of  Thrace,  Pole- 
mon,  the  king  of  Pontus,  Manchus,  the  king  of  Arabia,  Amynthas,  the  king  of  the 
Lycaonians  and  Galatheans,  Herod,  the  king  of  the  Jews,  and  the  king  of  the 
Medes.  Eighty  thousand  veterans,  twelve  thousand  horsemen,  and  two  hundred 
and  fifty  ships  will  not  be  too  many  to  uphold  the  rights  of  the  lawful  wife  ;  Italy, 
Spain,  Gaul  will  send  their  legions,  and  Europe,  from  Slavonia  to  the  Atlantic,  will 
be  in  motion.  O  amazing  logic  of  facts !  Can  a  cause  so  puny  have  such  vast 
results !  Can  a  lever  sufficient  to  lift  the  globe  be  found  in  the  smile  of  a  mad-cap 
girl  ?  Marry !  Because  a  man  is  enamoured  of  a  girl,  because  he  dotes  on  a  profil 
iquivoquty  forsooth,  a  universal  war  must  be  kindled !  Everywhere  mothers  must 
weep  for  their  children,  everywhere  lovers  must  be  torn  from  their  sweethearts, 
everywhere  hearts  must  be  lacerated.  Conscription  takes  the  farmer  from  his  fur- 
row, the  peasant  from  his  cabin,  the  shepherd  from  his  flock.  The  press-gang  emp- 
ties houses  to  fill  the  galleys  ;  muleteers,  harvesters,  travellers  on  the  road  are  seized 
by  force, — it  is  Plutarch  who  tells  it ;  the  desert  invades  the  cities ;  War  and  Chaos, 
torch  in  hand,  rush  over  the  earth ;  the  heavens  are  reddened  with  a  fateful  glow,  it 
is  blazing  villages,  lit  by  squadrons, — the  Orient  and  the  Occident,  for  long  ages 
defiant,  have  met  at  last.  The  shock  befell  before  the  promontory  of  Actium.  The 
Orient  recoils  before  the  Occident. 

(Page  i6)  :  Shakespeare  for  ever  brings  back  the  interest  to  this  sovereign  figure 
which  gives  to  the  work  its  unity.  Present  or  absent,  Cleopatra  pervades  the  entire 
drama.  Even  at  the  feast  which  the  young  Pompey  spreads  for  the  Triumvirs  aboard 
his  galley,  even  at  that  monstrous  orgy  where  wine  turns  the  head  of  the  noblest, 
where  Lepidus  rolls  under  the  table,  where  Antony  staggers  and  where  Caesar  stam- 
mers, it  is  Qeopatra  who,  unperceived,  presides.  Qeopatra  is  the  fatal  enchantress 
who  initiated  Rome  into  the  startling  mysteries  of  oriental  voluptuousness.  She  is 
the  invisible  sorceress  who  sweeps  the  masters  of  the  globe  into  the  dizzy  whirl  of 
an  Eg3rptian  bacchanal.  .  .  .  Cleopatra  is  the  supreme  type  of  seduction.  The  spell 
which  she  weaves  is  the  greatest  triumph  of  feminine  magic.  Her  sisters,  the  other 
heroines  of  Shakespeare,  attract  us  only  by  their  virtues  and  by  their  qualities  ;  she, 
she  enchants  us  by  her  very  faults,  her  very  weaknesses.  .  .  .  Fully  assured  of  the 
irresistible  charm  of  his  heroine,  the  poet  does  not,  for  a  single  instant,  suffer  us  to 
be  under  any  illusion.  From  the  very  beginning  of  the  drama,  at  the  moment  when 
she  enters  on  the  arm  of  her  lover,  he  tells  us  what  she  is  with  the  utmost  frankness. 
<  Look/  he  cries, '  and  you  shall  see  in  him  The  triple  pillar  of  the  worid  transform'd 
*  Into  a  strumpet's  fool.'  Away  with  reticence,  away  with  ambiguity!  Shakespeare 
has  neither  the  timidity  of  Comeille  nor  that  of  Dryden  ;  he  does  not  evade  the  sub- 


498 


APPENDIX 


ject,  b«  faces  it  fnll  front.     He  does  not  deny  his 

a  '  stnunpet  *  that  he  installs  on  the  scene ;  it  is  to  a « 

interest ;  it  is  for  a  *  stmmpet '  that  he  drmands  oar  pity  ;  it  is  fai 

« strampet  *  and  her  Iotct  that  he  exacts  our  teazs.    Omnipntimce  of 

drama,  where  an  ootiaged  wife  reclaims  her  rights  froaa  a 

wife  who  enlists  oor  srmpathj,  it  is  the  coortesan !    She 

not  OctaTia«  the  austere,  the  chaste ;  it  b  this  light  o'  love 

as  a  *  moffs^  cold  upon  dead  Cesar's  trencher.*     But  by 

been  enabled  to  produce  snch  a  diange  in  dK  coosdeiaces  of  the  specatfnes« 

concentrate  on  Qeopatra  all  the  sympathy  that  should  be  due  ID  Octtvm  ?     To 

this  mtrade  Shakespeare  needed  to  teil  nnrhfng  but  the  tench ;  he  had  mseiy  aa 

reveal  to  ns  the  profonod  sentiment  which  inspired  his  heroiae.     CXeupntia  had  m 

her  hcnit  the  flame  that  purines  erenrthing  :  she  loves.     It  is  by  Love  that  the  osval 

awuteaan  stands  revealed ;  it  is  by  love  that  she  is  rrhahilfftited.     Ay,  this  Annmy 

whom  she  teases,  whom  she  torments  whom  she  maddens^  As  Anoony  whoni  at  one 

■onant  she  abjures  and  unscmpaloasly  deceives  wkh  ThyreBS.  she  lowes  hmt.  ihe 

kyves  him  t§  distraction.     Do  voa  doubt  ?     listen.     The  anmifr  that  Ascony  is 

absent,  Cleopatra  is  utteriy  desolate.     She  thinks  only  of  him,  she  speaks  only  cf 

him ;   she  intozicates  herself  with  mamizagoca  to  sleep  oot  the  great  g;ip  of  hii 


( IHge  so)  :  In  Ptotarch  Antony  lives  long  with  Ocbma,  in  Shakespeare  the 
riage  was  a  mere  formality.  Who  does  not  see  in  this  pervesiaa  of  hisaory,  by  the 
hand  of  geninsv  a  feature  of  rmufsife  delicacy  ?  The  poet  wooid  not  snfier  ha  boa 
to  be  for  a  single  rnstant  unfaithful  to  his  heotne ;  he  has  mat  penmtaed  a  n^ 
treason,  even  if  legalised,  to  profime  this  mnmtwrd  adultery.  To  Shakespeare,  the 
union  of  Antony  snd  Octxvia  was  never  anght  else  than  an  ephememl  h^nf'M 
by  policy ;  but  his  union  with  Cleopatta  is  on  everlaslfng  compart,  sealed  by 
Thns  the  poet  does  not  hesitate  to  sacrifice  the  first  to  the  secomL  In  his  eves,  thit 
iriiich  sanctifies  the  relations  between  man  and  wonam  is  less  social  aaavendoa  thn 
the  natural  law.  Let  two  beings  love  each  odxei;  let  them  live  the  one  for  the 
other*  that  is  sufficient :  they  are  affianced  for  ever,  aH  odfeer  engagmncstt  tti  the 
contrary  notwtthstancfing.  In  the  eyes  of  poateoty.  as  in  "sfcaii  •w^  ■■in-^  ^Si^t.  ww 
of  Antony  is  no  longer  Ocinvia,  it  is  Qeopatza.     The  «'■«*■— *J>j  uf  the  pasBos  is  its 


What  a  cootsast  between  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Romeo  and  Joiiec. 
are  voung^  knral,  and  cantfid ;  there  is  never  a  wrinkle  on  their  brow 
their  heart ;  their  characters  are  pure  like  their  aftctxon  ;  their  souls  are  as  viigta 
their  bodies.    Their  accord  is  a  continuous  effiiaion  of  tendemes;  k  is  an 
duet  with  DQt  a  murmur  of  (fiscord.     What  he  dreams,  she  sees;  what  aJ 
he  accepts^     Sighs  answer  to  sighs^  tears  to  tears^  kisKs  to  kisses^     The  ■'"■m«^«<* 
of  the  Christian  lovers  is  equaled  only  by  the  corraptian  of  the  pagan  Iovok.    Aatoof 
is  as  vicious  as  Romeo  is  homrst :  Cleopatra  is  as  diasolnse  as  Juliet  a  ^h*—      Thr 
^amoni  q(  the  Roman  and  the  Egyptian  is  the  evrl  conjunction  of  rwo  great  souls  wkidk 
afasoittce  power  has  made  monstrous :  tins  union  is  aumhie  like  tiie  aoxm,  cuna 
like  a  debauch*  dishevelled  !ike  on  orgy.     The  nations  crushed  by  diea^tisux  coo* 
template  with  terror  this  Titamc  ps^sion  which  roaisdiove  their  heads  and  hmstsfonfc 
in  bolts  of  lightning.     Deiweeu  the  Triumvir  and  the  Queen  of  Egypt  there  aie  oaff 
^uarreiB»  recnnunations,  aarc3soB»  invecnves !     But  wimt  does  it  matter  I    They  la^ 
aach  other ;  ami  audi  is  the  grandeur  of  thcu-  love  that  we  foiget  thor 


CRITICISM— ANTHONY—  TRENCH 


499 


Oar  compassion  rebels  against  onr  equity,  and  the  death  of  Antony  and  Qeopatra 
wounds  us  as  sorely  as  the  death  of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  In  sooth,  the  same 
fatality  which  hurries  on  the  latter,  drives  on  the  former.  For  the  one  as  for  the 
other,  suicide  is  a  necessity.  The  likeness  between  the  two  catastrophes  is  such  that 
it  seems  as  though  in  preparing  them,  destiny  had  plagiarised  itself.  This  sur- 
prising analogy  has  not  been  adequately  considered,  which,  even  in  the  details,  pro- 
Tokes  comparison.  The  two  dhtoi^ments  take  place  amid  the  same  funereal  scenes ; 
on  the  one  hand  it  is  the  tomb  of  the  Ptolemies,  on  the  other  the  tomb  of  the  Capu- 
lets.  Run  down  by  adversity  the  pagan  lovers,  like  the  Christian  lovers,  are  driven 
to  bay  at  the  sepulchre ;  it  is  to  the  sepulchre  that  they  betake  themselves ;  at  the 
sepulchre  is  their  last  tryst.  In  the  two  dramas,  the  same  error  is  followed  by  the 
same  consequences:  Antony  believes  Geopatra  dead  and  kills  himself;  Romeo 
believes  Juliet  dead  and  kills  himself.  The  attachment  of  the  women  keeps  pace 
with  the  devotion  of  the  men ;  both  refuse  to  save  themselves.  The  one  resists  the 
solicitations  of  Caesar,  the  other  the  prayer  of  Friar  Laurence.  *  I  trust  only  my 
'  resolution,*  says  one,  as  she  applies  the  aspic.  *  I  will  not  away ! '  cries  the  other, 
and  she  seizes  the  poniard.  Conclusion  sublime  1  Between  these  two  couples  who 
have  lived  so  differently,  infinite  love  has  suppressed  all  differences ;  it  effaces  all  dis- 
tinction between  the  innocent  and  the  guilty;  it  makes  the  dying  Egyptian  the  equal 
in  agony  of  the  Veronese,  it  gives  to  adultery  the  august  majesty  of  marriage.  *  Hus- 
'band,  I  come.'  Yes,  the  same  name  that  Juliet  gives  to  Romeo,  Cleopatra  at  last 
conquers  the  right  to  give  to  Antony  ;  at  the  moment  when  she  kills  herself  for  him, 
she  may  well  be  permitted  to  call  him  her  husband.  The  two  lovers  in  dying  have 
exchanged  the  kiss  of  an  eternal  betrothal.  Between  her  and  him,  there  is  no  more 
separation  to  be  feared,  no  divorce  possible.  .  . .  Entombed  by  their  conqueror,  Antony 
and  Qeopatra  repose  side  by  nde  in  the  nuptial  grave.  Death  has  been  their  mar- 
riage.   

I  Anthony 

Rev.  Dr  R-  C.  Trench  (Plutarch^  etc.,  London, tlSyj,  p.  56):  The  Antony  of 
history,  of  Pknarch  himself,  would  have  been  no  subject  for  poetry.  Splendidly 
endowed  by  nature  as  he  was,  it  would  yet  have  been  impossible  to  claim  or  create 
a  sympathy  for  one  so  cruel,  dyed  so  deeply  in  the  noblest  blood  of  Rome,  the  whole- 
sale plunderer  of  peaceful  cities  and  provinces  that  he  might  squander  their  spoils  on 
the  vilest  ministers  of  his  pleasures ;  himself  of  orgies  so  shameless,  sunken  in  such 
a  mire  of  sin ;  in  whom  met  the  ugliest  features,  and  what  one  would  have  counted 
beforehand  as  the  irreconcilable  contradictions,  of  an  Oriental  despot  and  a  Roman 
gladiator.  And  yet,  transformed,  we  may  say  transfigured  by  the  marvellous  touch, 
the  Antony  of  Shakespeare,  if  not  the  veritable  Antony  of  history,  has  not  so  broken 
with  him  as  not  to  be  recognizable  still.  For  the  rest,  what  was  cocu^e  is  refined, 
what  would  take  no  colour  of  goodness  is  ignored,  what  had  any  fair  side  on  which 
it  could  be  shown  is  shown  on  that  side  alone.  He  appears  from  the  first  as  not 
himself,  but  as  under  the  spells  of  that  potent  Eastern  enchantress  who  had  once  held 
by  these  spells  a  Caesar  himself.  There  are  followers  who  cleave  to  him  in  his  lowest 
estate,  even  as  there  are  fitful  gleams  and  glimpses  of  generosity  about  him  which 
explain  this  fidelity  of  theirs ;  and  when  at  the  last  we  behold  him  standing  amid  the 
wreck  of  fortunes  and  the  waste  of  gifts,  all  wrecked  and  wasted  by  himself,  pene- 
trated through  and  through  with  the  infinite  shame  and  sadness  of  such  a  close  to  such 
a  life,  the  whole  range  of  poetry  ofiers  no  more  tragical  6gure  than  he  is,  few  that 


joo  APPENDIX 

arouse  a  deeper  pity ;  while  yet,  ideal  as  this  Antony  of  Shakespeare  is,  he  is  cod> 
nected  by  innumerable  subtle  bands  and  finest  touches  with  the  real  historical  Antooy, 
at  ODce  another  and  the  same. 


Cleopa  tra 


A.  Skottowe  (ii,  240)  :  Shakespeare  has  not  been  snccesslul  in  conveying  an 
idea  of  the  elegance  of  Cleopatra's  mind.  Neitho*  her  manners,  thoughts,  dot  lan- 
guage, impress  us  with  a  conyiction  of  her  possessing  those  accomplishments  which 
[Plutarch]  ascribes  to  her. 

Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  p.  120,  e/  seq,)  :  Of  all  Shakespeare^s  female  characters,  Mir- 
anda and  Qeopatra  appear  to  me  the  most  wonderful.     The  first,  unequalled  as  a 
poetical  conception  ;  the  latter,  miraculous  as  a  work  of  art.     If  we  could  make  a 
regular  classification  of  his  characters,  these  would  form  the  two  extremes  of  simplicity 
and  complexity ;  and  all  his  other  characters  would  be  found  to  fill  up  some  shade  or 
gradation  between  these  two.     Great  crimes,  springing  fi-om  high  passions,  grafted 
on  high  qualities,  are  the  legitimate  source  of  tragic  poetry.    But  to  make  the  extreme 
of  littleness  produce  an  effect  like  grandeur — to  make  the  excess  of  frailty  pfodnoe 
an  effect  like  power — to  heap  up  together  all  that  is  most  unsubstantial,  frivolous*  vain, 
contemptible,  and  Tariable,  till  the  worthlessness  be  lost  in  the  magnitude,  and  a 
sense  of  the  sublime  spring  from  the  very  elements  of  littleness, — to  do  this,  belonged 
only  to  Shakespeare,  that  worker  of  mirades.     Cleopatra  is  a  brilliant  antithesis,  1 
compound  of  contradictions,  of  all  that  we  most  hate,  with  what  we  most  admire. 
The  whole  character  is  the  triumph  of  the  external  over  the  innate ;  and  yet  like  one 
of  her  country's  hieroglyphics,  though  she  present  at  first  view  a  splendid  and  per- 
plexing  anomaly,  there  is  deep  meaning  and  wondrous  skill  in  the  apparent  enigma, 
when  we  oome  to  analyze  and  decipher  it     But  how  are  we  to  arrive  at  the  solntioB 
of  this  gloiious  riddle,  whose  dazzling  complexity  continually  mocks  and  eludes  us? 
What  is  most  astonishing  in  the  character  of  Qeopatra  is  its  antithetical  construction 
— its  comnstmt  incomsisUncy^  if  I  may  use  such  an  expression — ^which  renders  it  quite 
impossible  to  reduce  it  to  any  elonentary  principles.     It  will,  perhaps,  be  found  ob 
the  whole,  that  vanity  and  the  love  of  power  predcminate ;  but  I  do  not  say  it  tr  so^ 
for  these  qualities  and  a  hundred  others  mingle  into  eadi  other,  and  shift,  and  chai^ie, 
and  glance  away,  like  the  colours  in  a  peacock's  train.   In  some  others  of  Shakespeare's 
female  characters,  also  remarkable  for  their  complexity  (Portia  and  Juliet,  for  instance), 
we  are  struck  with  the  delightful  sense  of  harmony  in  the  midst  of  contrast,  so  that 
the  idea  of  unity  and  simplicity  of  effect  is  produced  in  the  midst  of  variety;  but  ia 
Qeopatra,  it  is  the  absence  of  unity  and  simplicity  which  strikes  us ;  the  impresBoo 
is  that  of  perpetual  and  irreoondleable  contrast     The  continual  approximatkxi  of 
whatever  is  most  opposite  in  character,  in  situation,  in  sentiment,  would  be  fatiguing, 
were  it  not  so  perfectly  natural :  the  woman  herself  would  be  distractii^r,  if  she  were 
not  so  enchanting.    I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  Shakespeare's  Qeopatra  is  tlie 
real  htstorical  Qeopatra — the  '  Rare  Egyptian ' — individnaliaed  and  placed  bdbre  as. 
Her  mental  accomplishments,  her  unequaUed  grace,  her  woman's  wit  and  womao'i 
wiles,  her  irresistible  allurements,  her  starts  of  irregular  grandeur,  her  bnxats  of 
ungovernable  temper,  her  vivadty  of  ixruiginaticm,  her  petulant  caprice,  her  fickleaesf 
and  her  falsehood,  her  tenderness  and  her  truth,  her  childish  sosoeptibility  to  fiattoy, 
her  magnificent  spirit,  her  royal  pride,  the  goigeaas  eastern  cokNuing  of  the  dlB^ 


CRITICISM— CLEOPA  TRA— HEINE 


SOI 


acter ;  all  these  contradictory  elements  has  Shakespeare  seized,  mingled  them  in  their 
extremes,  and  fused  them  into  one  brilliant  impersonation  of  classical  elegance.  Ori- 
ental voluptuousness,  and  gipsy  sorcery.  What  better  proof  can  we  have  of  the 
individual  truth  of  the  character  than  the  admission  that  Shakespeare's  Qeopatra  pro- 
duces  exactly  the  same  effect  on  us  that  is  recorded  of  the  real  Cleopatra  ?  She 
dazzles  our  faculties,  perplexes  our  judgement,  bewilders  and  bewitches  our  fancy 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  drama,  we  are  conscious  of  a  kind  of  fascination 
against  which  our  moral  sense  rebels,  but  from  which  there  is  no  escape.  The  epi- 
thets applied  to  her  perpetually  by  Antony  and  others  confirm  this  impression: 

•  enchanting  queen  !  * — *  witch ' — *  spell ' — ^  great  fairy  * — *  cockatrice  * — *  serpent  of 

•  old  Nile  * — *  thou  grave  charm ' — are  only  a  few  of  them.  ...  In  representing  the 
mutual  passion  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  as  real  and  fervent,  Shakespeare  has  adhered 
to  the  truth  of  history  as  well  as  to  general  nature.  On  Antony's  side  it  is  a  species 
of  infatuation,  a  single  and  engrossing  feeling :  it  is,  in  short,  the  love  of  a  man 
declined  in  years  for  a  woman  very  much  younger  than  himself,  and  who  has  sub- 
jected him  by  every  species  of  female  enchantment.  In  Qeopatra  the  passion  is  of  a 
mizt  nature,  made  up  of  real  attachment,  combined  with  the  love  of  pleasure,  the  love 
of  power,  and  the  love  of  self.  Not  only  is  the  character  most  complicated,  but  no 
one  sentiment  could  have  existed  pure  and  unvarying  in  such  a  mind  as  hers ;  her 
passion  in  itself  is  true,  fixed  to  one  centre  ;  but  like  the  pennon  streaming  from  the 
mast,  it  flutters  and  veers  with  every  breath  of  her  variable  temper :  yet  in  the  midst 
of  all  her  caprices,  follies,  and  even  vices,  womanly  feeling  is  still  predominant  in 
Cleopatra ;  and  the  change  which  takes  place  in  her  deportment  towards  Antony, 
when  their  evil  fortune  darkens  round  them,  is  as  beautiful  and  interesting  in  itself 
as  it  is  striking  and  natural.  Instead  of  the  airy  caprice  and  provoking  petulance 
she  displays  in  the  first  scenes,  we  have  a  mixture  of  tenderness,  and  artifice,  and 
fear,  and  submissive  blandishment.  Her  behaviour,  for  instance,  after  the  battle  of 
Actium,  when  she  quails  before  the  noble  and  tender  rebuke  of  her  lover,  b  partly 
female  subtlety  and  partly  natural  feeling. 

The  Cleopatra  of  Fletcher  reminds  us  of  the  antique  colossal  statue  of  her  in  the 
Vatican,  all  grandeur  and  grace.  Qeopatra  in  Dryden's  tragedy  is  like  Guido's 
dying  Qeopatra  in  the  Pitti  Palace,  tenderly  beautiful.  Shakespeare's  Cleopatra  b 
like  one  of  those  graceful  and  fantastic  pieces  of  antique  Arabesque,  in  which  all 
anomalous  shapes  and  impossible  and  wild  combinations  of  form  are  woven  together 
in  regular  confusion  and  most  harmonious  discord :  and  such,  we  have  reason  to 
believe,  was  the  living  woman  herself,  when  she  existed  upon  this  earth. 

H.  Heine  (v,  288)  :  For  Qeopatra  is  a  woman.  She  loves  and  betrays  at  the 
same  time.  It  is  a  mistake  to  believe  that  women  when  they  betray  us  have  ceased 
to  love.  They  follow  only  their  inborn  nature ;  and  if  they  do  not  wish  to  empty  the 
forbidden  cup,  they  like  at  least  to  sip  from  it,  or  lick  the  brim,  just  to  see  what  poison 
tastes  like.  .  .  .  Yes,  this  Qeopatra  is  a  woman  in  the  blessedest  and  cursedest  sense 
of  the  word !  She  reminds  me  of  that  saying  of  Leasing,  <  When  God  made  woman 
<  He  took  too  fine  a  clay ! '  The  extreme  delicacy  of  His  material  seldom  agrees 
with  the  requirements  of  life.  This  creature  is  at  once  too  good  and  too  bad  for  this 
world.  Most  charming  attractions  are  here  the  cause  of  most  repulsive  frailties.  With 
enchanting  truth  Shakespeare  depicts,  even  at  the  first  appearance  of  Qeopatra,  the 
variegated  fluttering  spirit  of  caprice  which  is  always  rampant  in  the  brain  of  the 
beautiful  queen,  not  seldom  bubbling  over  in  the  most  notable  questions  and  desires. 


502 


APPENDIX 


and  is  perhaps  really  to  be  regarded  as  the  final  cause  of  all  her  actions  and  behaTioor. 
.  .  .  From  the  excited,  unbalanced  mind  of  Cleopatra,  made  up  of  extremes  shuffled 
together,  a  mind  oppressively  sultry,  there  flashes,  like  heat-lightning,  a  sensuous^ 
wild,  and  brimstone-yellow  wit,  which  frightens  rather  than  pleases.  Plutarch  gives 
us  an  idea  of  this  wit,  which  shows  itself  more  in  deeds  than  words.  .  .  . 

The  surroundings  of  Cleopatra  are  as  intensely  witty  as  her  character.  This 
capricious,  pleasure-seeking,  ever-veering,  feverishly  coquettish  woman,  this  antique 
Parisienne,  this  goddess  of  life,  scintillated  and  ruled  over  Egypt,  the  stark^ul^ 
land  of  the  dead.  You  know  it  well,  that  Egypt,  that  Mixraim  full  of  mystery,  that 
Nile  with  its  narrow  valley,  looking  like  a  coffin.  In  the  high  reeds  grins  the  croc- 
odile, or  the  exposed  babe  of  Revelation  whimpers.  Rock  temples  with  colossid 
pillars,  whereon  appear  caricatures  of  sacred  animals  of  horribly  varied  hues.  At  the 
portal  nods  a  monk  of  Isis,  with  hieroglyphic  head-gear.  In  luxurious  villas,  mum- 
mies take  their  siestas,  and  the  gilded  masks  protect  them  from  the  swarms  of  carrion 
flies.  There  stand  slender  obelisks  and  squat  pyramids,  like  dumb  thoughts.  In 
the  background  we  are  greeted  by  the  Ethiopian  mountains  of  the  Moon,  hiding 
the  sources  of  the  Nile.  Everywhere  Death,  Stone,  and  Mystery.  And  over  this 
land,  there  ruled  as  queen  the  beautiful  Cleopatra.     How  witty  God  is ! 

Charles  Bathurst  (p.  131)  :  The  character  of  Cleopatra  is  fully  like  that  of  a 
queen,  in  boldness,  pride  and  command.  But  not  at  all  otherwise.  Her  passions  are 
those  of  a  mere  ordinary  woman,  who  has  no  respect  for  herself.  This  may  have 
been  the  case  in  fact  with  many  queens,  in  private,  because  they  have  less  to  control 
them  than  other  people ;  but  it  certainly  ought  not  to  be  so  represented.  Her  love 
for  Antony  is  much  inferior  in  depth,  steadiness,  and  sincerity  to  his  for  her :  but 
this  was  required  by  the  events  of  the  history.  However,  Shakespeare  has  put  some 
very  fine  things  here  and  there  in  her  speeches,  has  made  her  interesting  throughout, 
and  winds  her  up  at  the  last,  partly  by  showing  the  attachment  of  her  attendants  to 
her,  most  magnificently. 

Henry  Giles  (p.  143)  :  With  more  commanding  sweep  of  character  and  intel- 
lect, we  have  impassioned  womanhood  in  Geopatra.  Wonderful  she  is  in  her  grand 
and  dazzling  loveliness.  Full  of  soul,  full  of  power,  and  full  of  poetry,  she  is  the 
very  majesty  of  voluptuousness ;  she  could  beat  Antony  himself  in  the  strength  and 
endurance  of  carousal.  'O,  tiroes,'  she  says,  *  I  laughed  him  out  of  patience,  and 
*■  that  night  I  laughed  him  into  patience,  and  next  morning,  ere  the  ninth  hour,  I 
'drunk  him  to  his  bed.'  Ambitious,  yet  sensuous ;  cunning,  yet  intellectual ;  insid- 
ious,  yet  bold  ;  high  and  daring  in  her  aims,  she  contrives  to  combine  politics  with 
pleasure.  Keen  in  her  understanding,  yet  gorgeous  in  her  imagination,  she  knew 
how  to  conceal  a  plan  within  a  pageant,  and  her  pageantry  was  the  pageantry  of  a 
goddess.  Vehement  as  she  was  subtle,  her  pleasures  were  as  ocean-tides;  they 
surged  up  from  the  dark  depths  of  her  impassioned  soul.  Daughter  of  the  Ptolemies, 
queen  of  olden  and  mystic  Egypt,  with  the  rich  genius  of  Greece  and  the  hot  blood 
of  Africa,  she  was  at  once  poetess,  sovereign,  and  enchantress ;  grace,  mingled  with 
force,  concealed  the  grossness  of  her  excess  ;  something  of  the  artistic  entered  into 
the  wildest  extravagance  of  her  luxuries  :  even  in  her  vices  she  was  brilliant  and 
imperial.  It  was  meet  that  her  lovers  should  be  masters  of  the  world ;  with  no  lower 
suitors  would  imagination  be  content  to  mate  her.  If  she  must  bend  her  sceptre  to 
the  sword  of  Caesar,  it  was  still  right  that  he  should  bow  his  head  to  the  royalty  of 


CRITICISM— CLEOPA  TRA—MASSEY  503 

her  beauty :  his  was  the  victory  of  force,  hers  of  fascination ;  he  was  strong  in  his 
legions,  she  was  strong  in  herself;  he  conquered  the  world,  and  she  conquered  him. 
The  august  and  godlike  Julius  humbled  himself  before  her.  The  impetuous  and 
magnificent  Antony  became  a  mere  child  to  her  command.  What  measure  shall  we 
find  for  that  combination  of  womanly  witchery  and  womanly  genius,  the  result  of 
which  we  observe  in  the  subjugation  of  two  such  men  as  haughty  Julius  and  incon- 
stant Antony  ?  It  required  the  mind  of  Shakespeare  properly  to  conceive  it,  and  by 
Shakespeare  only  it  has  sufficiency  of  expression. 

Gerald  Massey  {Secret  Drama,  etc.,  1872,  p.  482)  :  There  was  a  woman  in 
the  North,  whom  Shakespeare  had  known,  quite  ready  to  become  his  life-figure  for 
this  siren  of  the  east  [Qeopatra]  ;  her  name  was  Lady  Rich.  A  few  touches  to 
make  the  hair  dark,  and  give  the  cheek  a  browner  tint,  and  the  change  was  wrought. 
The  soul  was  already  there,  apparelled  in  befitting  bodily  splendour.  She  had  the 
tropical  exuberance,  the  rich  passionate  life,  and  reckless  impetuous  spirit ;  the  tower- 
ing audacity  of  will,  and  breakings-out  of  wilfulness ;  the  sudden  change  from  still- 
ness to  storm,  from  storm  to  calm,  which  kept  her  life  in  billowy  motion,  on  which  her 
spirit  loved  to  ride  triumphing,  although  others  went  to  wreck;  the  cunning — past 
man's  thought — to  play  as  she  pleased  upon  man's  pulses ;  the  infinite  variety  that 
custom  could  not  stale ;  the  freshness  of  feeling  that  age  could  not  wither ;  the  magic 
to  turn  the  heads  of  young  and  old,  the  wanton  and  the  wise  I  Her  *  flashes  of  nature ' 
were  lightning-flashes  I  A  fitting  type  for  the  witch-woman,  who  kissed  away  king- 
doms, and  melted  down  those  immortal  pearls  of  price — the  souls  of  men — to  enrich 
the  wine  of  her  luxurious  life  !  The  very  <  model  for  the  devil  to  build  mischief  on,* 
or  for  Shakspeare  to  work  by,  when  setting  that '  historic  abstraction  *  all  aglow  with 
A  conflagration  of  passionate  life,  and  making  old  Nile's  swart  image  of  beauty  in 
bronze  breathe  in  flesh  and  blood  and  sensuous  shape  once  more  to  personify  eternal 
torment  in  the  most  pleasurable  guise.  The  hand  of  the  Englishwoman  flashes  its 
whiteness  too,  in  witness,  when  she  offers  to  give  her  'bluest  veins  to  kiss,'  forgetful 
that  it  was  black  with   '  Phcebus'  amorous  pinches.'     The  '  lascivious  Grace,  in 

<  whom  all  ill  well  shews.*  ( — Sotmet  40)  is  that '  serpent  of  old  Nile,'  who  was  cun- 
'  ning,  past  man's  thought ; '  she  who  is  asked,  in  Sonnet  150, — *■  Whence  hast  thou 

*  this  becoming  of  things  ill  That  in  the  very  refuse  of  thy  deeds.  There  is  such 

*  strength  and  warrantise  of  skill  That  in  my  mind  thy  worst  all  best  exceeds?' 
is  the  same  person,  of  whom  it  is  said  in  the  tragedy,  '  the  vilest  things  become 

*  themselves  in  her ; '  the  lady  addressed  in  Sonnet  96—*  Thou  mak'st  faults  graces 
'  that  to  thee  resort,  As  on  the  finger  of  a  throned  Queen,  The  basest  jewel  will 

<  be  well  esteemed ;   So  are  those  errors  that  in  thee  are  seen  To  truths  trans- 

*  lated,  and  for  true  things  deemed — '  is  one  with  the  '  Wrangling  Queen,  Whom 

*  everything  becomes,  to  chide,  to  laugh.  To  weep :  whose  every  passion  fully  strives 
<To  make  itself,  in  thee,  fair  and  admired! '  This  verisimilitude  is  not  casual,  it 
comes  from  no  inadvertence  of  expression,  but  goes  to  the  life-roots  of  a  personal 
character,  so  unique,  that  the  Poet  on  various  occasions  drew  from  one  original — 
die  Lady  Rich. 

Edward  Dow  den  (p.  312)  :  We  do  not  mistake  this  feeling  of  Qeopatra  towards 
Antony  for  love;  but  he  has  been  for  her  (who  had  known  Caesar  and  Pompey),  the 
sopreme  sensation.  She  is  neither  faithful  to  him  nor  faithless ;  in  her  complex 
nature,  beneath  each  ibid  or  layer  of  sincerity  lies  one  of  insincerity,  and  we  cannot 


C04  APPENDIX 

tell  which  is  the  last  and  innermost  Her  imagination  is  stimulated,  and  nourished 
by  Antony's  presence.  And  he  in  his  turn  finds  in  the  beauty  and  witchcraft  of  the 
E^ptian,  something  no  less  incommensurable  and  incomprehensible.  Yet  no  one 
felt  more  profoundly  than  Shakspere, — as  his  Sonnets  abundantly  testify, — that  the 
glory  of  strength  and  of  beauty  is  subject  to  limit  and  to  time.  What  he  would  seem 
to  say  to  us  in  this  play,  not  in  the  manner  of  a  doctrinaire  or  a  moralist,  but  wholly 
as  an  artist,  is  that  this  sensuous  infinite  is  but  a  dream,  a  deceit,  a  snare.  At  every 
moment  in  this  play  we  assist  at  a  catastrophe — the  decline  of  a  lordly  nature.  At 
every  moment  we  are  necessarily  aware  of  the  gross,  the  mean,  the  disorderly  woman- 
hood in  Cleopatra,  no  less  than  of  the  witchery  and  wonder  which  excite,  and  charm, 
and  subdue.  We  see  her  a  dissembler,  a  termagant,  a  coward;  and  yet  'vilest 
*  things  become  her.'  The  presence  of  a  spirit  of  ii/e  in  Cleopatra,  quick,  shifting, 
multitudinous,  incalculable,  fascinates  the  eye,  and  would,  if  it  could,  lull  the  moral 
sense  to  sleep,  as  the  sea  does  with  its  endless  snakelike  motions  in  the  sun  and 
shade.     She  is  a  wonder  of  the  world,  which  we  would  travel  far  to  look  upon. 

F.  S.  Boas  (p.  475,  et  seq.)  :  Cleopatra  is  among  Shakspere's  women  what  Fal- 
staff  is  amongst  his  men.     Both  have  the  same  infinite  complexity  of  nature  in  which 
seemingly  contradictory  qualities  are  reconciled,  and  both  the  same  paradoxical 
grandeur  compounded  out  of  all  that  is  most  morally  worthless.     Fascination  radi- 
ates equally  fix>m  either  personality,  and  as  Falstaflf,  when  completely  bankrupt  in 
honour  and  fortune,  is  still  the  knight  and  the  gentleman,  so  Cleopatra,  guilty  of  the 
most  detestable  and  squalid  forms  of  misconduct,  remains  every  inch  a  queen.     In 
the  Boar's  Head  Tavern  and  in  the  Palace  at  Alexandria  a  similar  struggle  is  being 
waged  :  the  venue  is  changed,  and  the  weapons,  but  an  identical  principle  is  at  stake. 
Falstaff  had  sought  to  defeat  moral  facts  by  the  dazzling  play  of  an  inexhaustible 
humour ;  Qeopatra  substitutes  the  no  less  dazzling  play  of  an  inexhaustible  persona] 
charm,  wherein  beauty,  as  Plutarch  expressly  states,  was  only  a  minor  element    Per- 
fect beauty  could  indeed  scarcely  be  the  portion  of  this  <  gipsy,'  with  *  Phoebus'  amor- 
<ous  pinches  black,'  but  she  has  the  more  talisman ic  gifts  of  perennial  youth  and 
endless  versatility  of  attraction.  .  .  .  Antony's  names  for  her,  '  serpent  of  old  Nile,' 
and  '  great  fairy,'  testify  to  a  spell  that  seems  wellnigh  more  than  human.    Yet  its 
potency  really  springs  from  her  unabashed  revelation  of  a  womanhood  dowered  with 
every  captivating  attribute  save  those  which  have  a  moral  source.     The  Qeopatra 
of  Shakspere,  and  indeed  of  Plutarch,  anticipates  a  type  of  which  the  modem  stage 
is  often  supposed  to  be  the  originator.    This  demi-mondaini  bom  in  the  purple,  with 
her  hot  and  cold  fits,  her  mingled  restlessness  and  languor,  her  passion  at  once  false 
and  tme,  her  lavishness  and  her  avarice,  her  seductive  wiles  varied  by  outbursts  of 
ferocity  or  coarseness — what  essential  aspect  of  courtesan-nature  has  the  realism  of 
today  discovered  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  this  wonderful  picture  ?     Fate  provides 
for  a  unique  manifestation  of  the  myriad  possibilities  of  Qeopatra's  character  when 
it  throws  Antony  into  her  toils.     In  her  youth  she  had  been  Caesar's  paramour,  but 
to  the  conqueror  and  statesman  this  dalliance  had  been  only  an  interlude  amidst  the 
serious  work  of  war  and  government.     Antony  is  of  other  mould,  and  is,  in  fact,  as 
completely  the  masculine  counterpart  of  Cleopatra  as  Benedick  was  of  Beatrice.    The 
emotional  homage  which  in  earlier  days  he  had  lavished  on  Caesar  is  now  poured 
forth  yet  more  unreservedly  at  the  feet  of  the  Egyptian  Queen.    In  her,  Antony  finds 
a  being  who  satisfies  the  boundless  craving  of  his  richly  endowed  sensuous  nature. 
Yet  this  passion,  so  mutually  enthralling,  so  opulent  of  delight,  is  not,  in  any  true 


CRITICISM— CLEO  PA  TRA— BRADFORD 


50s 


%  lore.  The  souls  of  Antony  and  Cleopntra  have  never  for  one  moment  mingled. 
The  gox^eous  fabric  of  their  bliss  totters  from  hour  to  hour  on  an  unstable  foundation. 
Antony  is  always  on  the  watch  for  treachery  on  the  part  of  the '  gipsy,*  and  Cleopatra 
is  ever  fearful  that  her  paramour  will  be  drawn  from  her  side  by  his  bond  as  a  hus- 
band, or  his  ambition  as  a  ruler. 

G.  Bradford,  Jr.  i^Poet  Lore^  Vol.  x.  No.  4, 1898,  p.  529)  :  The  exact  proportion 
of  madness  and  sanity  in  Hamlet  must  always  remain  a  question,  and  so  with  Cleo- 
patra. I,  at  least,  do  not  feel  clear  as  to  her  good  faith  to  Antony.  That  she  loves 
him  there  is  no  doubt  at  all,  loves  him  as  she  is  capable  of  loving.  But  it  is  more 
than  doubtful  whether  she  kills  herself  for  love  of  him  or  in  sheer  desperation  to 
avoid  the  scorn  and  vengeance  of  Caesar.  I  greatly  fear  that  if  she  had  been  confident 
of  Caesar's  favour,  confident  of  reigning  in  Rome  as  she  had  reigned  in  Alexandria, 
Antony's  poor  dust  might  have  tossed  forgotten  in  the  burning  winds  of  Egypt.  And 
]ret,  I  do  not  know, — who  can  know  ?  That  is  precisely  what  gives  the  character  its 
charm.  History  leaves  us  in  the  same  doubt  Shakespeare  may  have  had  no  definite 
opinion  on  the  point  Qeopatra  may  not  have  considered  it  herself.  She  adored 
Antony.  She  had  the  pride  of  her  race.  She  would  not  see,  *  Some  squeaking  Cleo- 
'  patra  boy  her  greatness,'  and  she  dies  as  she  lived,  a  supreme  mystery. 

OCTAVIA 

Mrs  Jameson  (ii,  pp.  169-174) :  I  do  not  understand  the  observation  of  a  late 
cntic,  that  in  this  play  '  Octavia  is  only  a  dull  foil  to  Qeopatra.'  Cleopatra  requires 
no  foil,  and  Octavia  is  not  dull,  though  in  a  moment  of  jealous  spleen,  her  accom- 
plished rival  gives  her  that  epithet  '  The  sober  eye  of  dull  Octavia.' — V,  ii.  It  is 
possible  that  her  beautiful  character,  if  brought  more  forward  and  coloured  up  to  the 
historic  portrait,  would  still  be  eclipsed  by  the  dazzling  splendour  of  Cleopatra's :  for 
so  I  have  seen  a  flight  of  fireworks  blot  out  for  a  while  the  silver  moon  and  ever 
boming  stars.  But  here  the  subject  of  the  drama  being  the  love  of  Antony  and  Qeo- 
patra, Octavia  is  very  properly  kept  in  the  background,  and  far  from  any  compe- 
tition with  her  rival :  the  interest  would  otherwise  have  been  unpleasantly  divided, 
or  rather  Cleopatra  herself  must  have  served  but  as  a  foil  to  the  tender,  virtuous, 
dignified,  and  generous  Octavia,  the  very  btau-ideal  of  a  noble  Roman  lady — 
*■  Admired  Octavia,  whose  beauty  claims  No  worse  a  husband  than  the  best  of  men ; 
'  Whose  viitue  and  whose  general  graces  speak  That  which  none  else  can  utter.' .  .  . 
The  character  of  Octavia  is  merely  indicated  in  a  few  touches,  but  every  stroke  tells. 
We  see  her  with  <  downcast  eyes  sedate  and  sweet,  and  looks  demure,' — ^with  her 
modest  tenderness  and  dignified  submission — the  very  antipodes  of  her  rival !  Nor 
ihoold  we  forget  that  she  has  furnished  one  of  the  most  graceful  simiies  in  the  whole 
compass  of  poetry,  where  her  soft  equanimity  in  the  midst  of  grief  is  compared  to 
*  The  swan's  down  feather  That  stands  upon  the  swell  at  flood  of  tide.  And  neither 
'way  inclines.'  The  fear  which  seems  to  haunt  the  mind  of  Qeopatra,  lest  she 
iboold  be  '  chastised  by  the  sober  eye '  of  Octavia,  is  exceedingly  characteristic  of 
the  two  women :  it  betrays  the  jealous  pride  of  her,  who  was  conscious  that  she  had 
forfeited  all  real  claim  to  respect ;  and  it  places  Octavia  before  us  in  all  the  majesty 
of  that  virtue  which  could  strike  a  kind  of  envying  and  remorseful  awe  even  into  the 
bosom  of  Qeopatra.  What  would  she  have  thought  and  felt,  had  some  soothsayer 
Ibfetold  to  her  the  late  of  her  own  children,  whom  she  so  tenderly  loved  ?  Captives, 
and  exposed  to  the  rage  of  the  Roman  populace,  they  owed  their  existence  to  the 


5o6 


APPENDIX 


geneioas,  adminble  OcUtU,  in  whose  mind  there  entered  no  pttitide  of  littli 
She  leceiTed  into  her  hoose  the  children  of  Antony  and  Qeopatza,  edncftted  them 
with  her  own,  treated  them  with  troly  maternal  tenderness,  and  married  them  noUj. 

OCTAVJUS 

Paul  Staffer  (p.  409) :  In  the  whole  range  of  historical  dgnres  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  one  more  disagreeable,  more  ugly,  and  more  rqmisiTe  than  Caesar^s 
nephew,  OctaTios,  who  afterwards  became  the  renowned  Angnstis,  so  rhanfrd  and 
glorified  by  the  poets.  Not  that  he  was  a  monster  of  wickedness ;  comparatively 
speaking  at  least  and  placed  by  the  side  of  the  more  thorough-going  raflians  who 
were  members  of  his  august  family,  he  could  hardly  be  called  so.  But  from  a  poet- 
ical point  of  view  this  is  just  where  his  fault  lies ;  had  he  been  more  frankly  and 
boldly  wicked  he  would  have  been  less  detesuble.  Schiller  has  very  truly  remarked 
that  a  robber  gains,  poetically  speaking,  by  being  also  a  murderer,  and  that  a  man 
who  lowers  himself  in  our  aesthetic  esteem  by  some  paltry  rascality,  may  raise  himself 
by  the  conmiission  of  a  great  crime.  But  in  a  mean  shirering  creature,  who  osed  to 
regale  himself  upon  an  ounce  of  bread  and  a  few  dried  raisius,  and  in  winter  wore 
four  tunics  under  his  toga,  it  is  impossible  to  feel  any  vivid  interest  Military  cour- 
age, we  know,  was  not  one  of  his  rirtues.     His  favourite  maxims  '  Precaution  is  bet- 

*  ter  than  boldness,'  '  Make  haste  slowly/  etc  were  of  much  the  same  unheroic  char- 
acter as  the  saying  that  Louis  XI.  was  so  fond  of  repeating :  '  In  war  the  honour  is 

*  his  who  gains  the  most  by  it'  .  .  .  He  has  often,  like  many  other  persons  whose 
whole  wit  consists  in  preserving  a  judicious  silence,  been  taken  for  a  deep  thinker, 
but  his  solemn  and  mysterious  manner  only  hides  the  emptiness  beneath.  Nothing 
is  more  irritating  for  purposes  of  analysis  than  this  kind  of  colouriess  character,  which 
has  nothing  original  or  worth  studying  about  it,  and  which  defies  all  definition,  because 
its  indefinite  and  varying  features  cannot  possibly  be  brought  into  any  sort  of  unity. 
For  instance,  Octavius  was  cruel  from  inclination  as  well  as  firom  policy,  and  several 
instances  of  his  cruelty  are  related  by  Suetonius  which  Caligula  himself  might  have 
envied :  but  he  had  his  moments  of  moderation  and  clemency  notwithstanding,  and 
it  is  to  one  of  these  slight  attacks  of  generosity  that  he  owes  the  reputation  of  magnan- 
imity which  he  has  obtained  through  the  too  great  benevolence  of  Cometlle,  who 
was  ever  on  the  watch  for  what  was  grand  and  noble.  The  death  of  his  enemy 
Antony  inspired  him,  according  to  Suetonius,  with  feelings  of  delight,  but  according 
to  Plutarch,  he  withdrew  into  his  tent  and  wept  and  lamented.  Shakespeare  here, 
as  always,  follows  Plutarch  ;  but  his  conduct  is  not  of  the  slightest  importance,  nor 
is  it  even  necessary  to  suppose  that  his  tears  were  h3rpocritical :  with  this  thin  coating 
of  sensitiveness  he  might  easily  be  affected  for  an  instant  by  the  '  breaking  of  so  great 
'  a  thing.*  A  passive  instrument  in  the  hands  of  fortune,  tame  and  colouriess,  with- 
out  one  ray  of  poetry  in  his  nature,  Octavius  both  in  history  and  in  Shakespeare  is  an 
absolutely  vapid  and  insipid  personage.  To  take  him  as  the  representative  of  an 
iron  will,  cold,  patient,  and  certain  of  his  aim,  as  some  commentators  have  done, 
and  to  contrast  him  with  the  lavish  splendour  of  a  brilliantly  gifted  nature,  whiried 
away  by  a  fatal  passion,  like  that  of  Antony,  is  assuredly  to  do  him  too  much  honour. 
We  meet  with  many  practical  men  of  action  in  Shakespeare's  plays  who  are  tolerably 
worthy  of  forming  a  contrast  to  the  more  poetical  but  less  sensible  hero,  sudi  as 
Fortinbras  in  Hamlet^  Alcibiades  in  Timon  of  Athens^  and  Cassius  xn  JmUms  C^sar; 
but  we  may  be  allowed  to  doubt  whether  Octavius  had  any  very  real  practical  merit, 
and  whether  the  appearance  he  had  of  it  was  not  entirely  due  to  the  egr^ioos  folly 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— JO DELLE  507 

and  infatuation  of  his  opponent,  bj  force  of  contrast  with  which,  the  faintest  signs 
of  ability  or  wisdom  would  become  magnified.  When  Antony,  after  his  defeat, 
challenged  Octavius  to  single  combat,  it  was  not  necessary  for  him  to  be  a  wise  man, 
to  shrug  his  shoulders  at  a  challenge  so  obviously  absurd, — not  to  be  a  hero  was 
quite  sufficient  It  was  not  Octavius,  but  the  star  of  his  destiny  that  won  the  battle 
of  Actium :  Cleopatra  look  flight,  her  lover  followed  her,  and  Octavius,  as  usual, 
had  only  to  let  the  gods  act  for  him.  At  most,  he  only  fills  in  the  tragedy  the  place 
of  the  principal  agent  in  Antony's  predestined  downfall. 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS 

In  1552  there  was  published  in  France  a  drama  called  Cleopatre  Captive^  which 
was  the  first  tragedy  to  appear  in  the  French  language.  It  was  written  l^  Estiennb 
JoDELLE,  'fieur  du  Lymodin,'  who  was  bom  in  Paris  in  1532,  and  died  at  the  age 
of  forty-one  in  1573,  when  Shakespeare  was  nine  years  old.  In  construction  this 
tragedy  was  modelled  on  the  Drama  of  Seneca  ;  in  some  respects  it  shows  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Greek  tragedians  also,— the  Chorus  shares  in  the  dialogue,  which  is  rare, 
I  think,  in  Seneca,  and,  in  the  Second  Act^  it  is  divided  into  Strophes  and  Anti- 
strophes.  Its  Dramatis  Persona  are  as  follows :  The  Shade  of  Antony,  Cleopatra, 
Eras,  Charmium,  Octavian  Csesar,  Agrippa,  Proculeius,  Chorus  of  Alexandrian 
Women,  Seleucus.  The  First  Scene  is  laid  in  Purgatory,  smd  consists  of  a  sol- 
iloquy by  the  Shade  of  Antony  who  laments  the  sad  fate  brought  on  him  by  the 
gods,  through  their  jealousy  of  his  greatness  ;  he  reviews  his  past  life,  and  his  fatal 
infatuation  for  Cleopatra,  whom  he  bitterly  denounces.  Purgatorial  fires  having 
already  had  some  effect,  the  Ghost  laments  his  cruel  treatment  of  his  wife,  Octavia, 
mnd  furthermore, 

*  I  chased  my  tender  children  from  my  sde 

And  warmed  that  murderous  serpent  in  my  bosom 

Which  coiled  about  me,  and  deceived  my  soul. 

While  pouring  deadly  venom  o'er  my  life.*  * — p.  1 10,  recto. 
Bat  he  is  resolved  that  he  will  not  remain  all  alone  in  torment ;  before  the  sun, 
DOW  rising,  sets,  Qeopatra  must  die.     He  has  appeared  to  her  in  a  dream,  and  com- 
manded her,  after  having  given  his  corpse  an  honourable  burial,  to  kill  herself, 
'  Or*  se  faisant  compagne  en  ma  peine  et  tristesse 

Qui  s'est  faite  long  temps  compagne  en  ma  liesse ;  * — p.  no,  verso, 
which  has  really  a  show  of  justice  and  fair  play.  In  the  next  Scene  Cleopatra 
rehearses  to  Eras  and  Charmium,  the  events  of  her  life,  much  in  the  same  style  as 
Antony  had  narrated  his  past  story,  but,  not  having  had  as  yet  the  advantage  of 
Purgatorial  flames,  her  remorse  is  not  so  deep.  She  refers  with  terror  to  her  dream, 
and  decides  that  Anton3r's  commands  must  be  obeyed;  moreover,  every  horror  is  to 
be  endured  rather  than  be  taken  to  Rome  for  Ca^ar's  triumph.  The  Chorus,  at  the 
close  of  the  Act^  shows  a  close  imitation  of  Seneca  by  beginning  with  a  description, 
by  no  means  vrithout  charm,  of  a  sunrise  and  an  opening  day.  It  inevitably  chal- 
lenges comparison  with  the  fine  description  by  the  Chorus  at  the  end  of  the  First 
Act  in  the  Hercules  Furens^  beginning,  'Jam  rara  micant  sidera  prono  Languida 

*A  recent  writer  (Atkemaum,  II  August,  1906),  in  speaking  of  blank  verse, 
says  with  truth,  *  it  is  criminally  easy  to  write  it  execrably,  and  almost  impossible  to 
*■  write  it  well.'  Here,  and  in  the  translations,  in  blank  verse,  from  the  French,  Ger- 
Bnan,  and  Italian  of  the  following  Versions ^  I  enact  the  criminaL 


5o8 


APPEXDIX 


*  mmidov*  etc     In  the  oezl  Act  OctxviBS  boasts  to  A^npfM  sad 
pmndear  aad  of  his  mighty  ezplofts»  begnmmg  widi  the 
that  oo  ooe  mder  heavea's  cope  has  been  so  fitvooiei  hf  the  fods 
But  his  career  will  be  incomplete  if  he  cannot  take  Geopatia 
Ftocaleins  describes  the  maniiiT  in  which  he  c^jtszed  the 
doadj  follows  Flntarch.     OctaTins  bids  hia  dxsposBcss  Oerntn  of  all 
««'•*'**      In  die  Third  Act  there  is  a  conicscBce 
The  latter  displays  the  letters  of  Jnfins  Caesar,  ' 

sahed  Dion  Casrim  as  well  as  Flstarch.     In  Ck.:  atn's  ff*^^ 
in  her  Lunentatioos  ior  AntDoj,  and  in  her 
bitter  lot.  the  dmna  ri>cs»  I  think,  to  its  hig^feest  poiai  of  f  i  m  iTj 
Qeopatra,  addressing  OctarioBy  pliinti^ely  befiss: 

'  Unless  the  cnefL  iaDOSoMcd  in  arr  breao. 
Far,  &r  ssrpasBed  this  final  piaznt  cf  BBBe 
Thaw  wooldst  act  see  thj  poor  star  at  ftj 
No  words  of  BBK  are  ctjaal  to  the  i^iie^ 
Which,  dirabbrns.  has  hwmiiuiiT  ae  aZI 
X  J  tears,  bt  moaiK,  and  all 
Jut  thon  surprised  that  uis  word 


Has  power  to  oat 

I 


Tosepara[e!  ^ma^\  I 

If  this  sad  war  bad  aolr 

It  had  been  belter  fiar  3ie 

To  have  *^'*p  »*Tif  froai  kcsr  <^»"r"tf  fii^ 

His  uGBEi  pier  cwriiT  i&en  ka^e  been  paevcBlBd! 

Icnaid  have  wixdeiz  of  aC  czwel  b&0w% 

Becase  I  hod  the 

Ofsecs^niaul 

Btat  BOW  a  haiiii'red. — bna&ed- 

r«esB&Kcd&aKi&BshiBErwar;  br  it 

r^  kxt  orr  bafsL  mm  ifiiy^iVaa      aif  mf^l 

Aai  I  ha^e  seen  okt  jde.  axai 


.\mL  Mmfing  as  ^e  wsk  j2t  aoid 

tD  ^aiTu.  knn  wtfh.  arv-  own.  hot 


I  aeeds  amst  !t«e  I  5ar  oat  m  tatke 

I  ^aj»e  JBt  jaiii  x  jiAuuii  a>  kSl 

wff  sace  tis  ocjoc  vhac  T  smturor  3rv  Kfif 

Ami  rbaL  in  3ie  ±s  ji«e  of  l£e 

Tjuaaa&e  ai  iMik  sx^oit  this 

Whtf  caac^^esselF  jmseanns  hdhneifkiv 

A£  JsBi[;.  •?  CesoL  Jet  asr 

CiuBce  a  *j^i>*uL.  ivhiasGS  wnL 

Stis  jjowiu^  im^  wnl  viiirwuj 

on  ±5  IhoBC  ibbi  KSB  has«  as  dfaa?* — yi 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^JODELLE  509 

In  this  one  Scene  there  is,  I  think,  a  tragic  human  cry,  deeper  and  more  sincere 
than  is  to  be  found  in  the  CUopatras  of  many  of  Jodelle's  successors  who  have 
achieved  more  fame.  Octavius  remains,  however,  unmoved,  and  recounts  all  the 
misdeeds  in  Oeopatra's  career,  but  finally  assures  her  that  her  life  and  the  lives  of 
her  children  shall  be  spared.  Out  of  gratitude  the  queen  says  that  she  will  disclose 
to  Octavius  all  the  gold  and  jewels  in  her  treasury.  Hereupon  Selencus  comes  for- 
ward officiously,  as  he  does  in  Plutarch  (in  Shakespeare  Qeopatra  appeals  to  him), 
and  asserts  that  Cleopatra  has  concealed  wealth  incalculable.  The  Scene  that  fol- 
lows in  Plutarch,  where  Cleopatra  falls  into  a  rage  with  Seleucus,  proved  to  Jodelle 
too  attractive  to  be  omitted  ;  consequently  he  inserted  it  at  length,  although  so  much 
action  is  in  general  alien  to  the  Senecan  tragedy.  By  this  one  venturesome  stroke 
Jodelle  has  shown  his  appreciation  of  Cleopatra's  nature,  and  has  imparted  action, 
life,  and  character  to  his  drama  which  give  it  a  high  place,  earliest  though  it  be  of 
French  tragedies,  when  compared  with  those  subsequently  written  under  Senecan 
influence,  with  Qeopatra  for  a  theme.  As  Jodelle's  Works  are  very  scarce  (the  first 
edition  appeared  in  1 552, — my  copy  is  dated  1583),  it  may  not  be  displeasing  to 
reprint  this  fragment  of  the  Scene.  Jodelle's  close  adherence  to  Plutarch  can  be 
observed  only  in  the  original  French ;  it  would  be  lost  in  a  translation.  Seleucus  has 
finished  his  accusation  and  at  once  Cleopatra's  anger  breaks  forth : 

'  Cleopatra.     A  faux  meurdrier  I  a  faux  traistre,  arrach^ 

'  Sera  le  poil  de  ta  teste  cruelle. 

'  Que  pleust  aux  Dieux  que  ce  fust  ta  ceraelle  I 

« T\k  traistre,  ti6.     Sil.    O  Dieux !     CI.     O  chose  detestable  I 

*  Vn  serf  vn  serf!     Oct.     Mais  chose  esmerueillable 
'  D'vn  cceur  terrible.     CL    £t  quoy,  m'accuses  tu? 

*  Me  pensois  tu  veufue  de  ma  vertu 

*  Comme  d' Antoine  ?  a  a  traistre  I     Set.     Retiens  la, 

*  Puissant  Cesar,  retiens  la  doncq.     CI.    Voila 

■  Tons  mes  bienfaits.  hou  I  le  dueil  qui  m'efforoe, 
'  Donne  i  mon  coeur  langoureuz  telle  force, 

'  Que  ie  pourrois,  ce  me  semble,  froisser 

*  Du  poing  tes  os,  &  tes  flancs  creuasser 

*  A  coups  de  pied.     Oct.    O  quel  grinsant  courage  I 

*  Mais  rien  n'est  plus  fiirienx  que  la  rage 

■  D'vn  coeur  de  femme.     £t  bien,  quoy,  Cleopatre  ? 

*  Estes  voQS  point  ia  saoule  de  le  battre ! 

*  Fuy  t'en,  ami,  fuy  t'en.     CL     Mais  qooy,  mais  quoy? 

*  Mon  Empereur,  est-il  vn  tel  esmoy 

'  Au  monde  encor  que  ce  paillard  me  donne  ? 
'  Sa  licheti  ton  esprit  mesme  estonne,  ^ 

*  Corome  ie  croy,  quand  moy  Roine  d'ici, 
<  De  mon  vassal  suis  accusee  ainsi, 

*  Que  toy,  Cesar,  as  daign6  visiter.' — p.  225,  veno^  ed.  1 583. 

Selencus  repents,  and  in  a  dialogue  with  the  Chorus  confesses  that  death  would 
be  preferable  to  the  memory  which  piust  be  always  his  that  he  has  so  deeply  wounded 
and  offended  his  queen  and  mistress. 

The  Fourth  Act  is  almost  wholly  given  up  to  the  bitter  lamentations  of  Qeopatra. 
At  the  close  there  are  four  lines  which  I  think  are  touching : 


5IO 


APPENDIX 


'  Cmr  entre  tout  le  mal,  peine,  doolevr. 

Sonars,  regrets,  soods,  que  \  aj  soi&ft 

r  cstime  le  phis  giicf  oe  iHeii  petit  de  tcHjs 

Que  de  tor,  A  Aatoipe,  csloip»er  ie  me  scbs^' 
Tbe  ^/?i  ^4^  is  divided  bet»em  Procaleiiis  and  tbe 
m-belmed  vith  grief,  describes  bov  lie  brake  into  tbe  McnaBcat  and  VtmA  Qeo- 
patn  and  Exas  dead  andCbanniaa  djing,  viiboot  a  trace  of  tbe  came  of  tbesr  dettb. 
Later  on,  in  wondcrii^  bow  be  shall  bteak  tbe  aevs  to  Oeaaz,  be  asks  if  it  be  pa»- 
sSAe  tbat  she  conld  bave  died  bj  an  a^ic's  bite  or  bf  aonae  aecvet  poisoe.  Tbe 
Cboivs  pmxixses  to  tbe  dead  Qcopatn  an  ctexiuij  of  iiae  in  eweij  laitd  vbicb  tbe 
sm  brixilds  frcm  bis  ropr  davn  to  bis  daAened  icsL 

Coaipariscms  berveen  waTJTnil  Ijlpaluies  ate  idle;  tbarfare,  aiter  irraTfaig  ibe 
fact  tbat  Grrhitau^  oar  eaxiiest  tragedy,  vas  vnnen  in  1562,  jnst  ten  5 
Jodd3e*s  CieMticTrr^  h  seems  to  me  a  saSoert  ccnchtskm  ^lax  tbe  laser  as  a 
in  dnonatic  txagedr  is  as  ocigin  of  wbicb  anj  Tuntfuie  magbt  be  mcae  dsan  > 


Tisx  !CIXT  Tragedr,  c^aroaaotkigicallT,  vberein  Qeopncza  appeal^  is  tbal  bv  ^^ 
GAX.KIIX,  ^-vtKxnZurr  ^  Xrr  iii  wfi  wum  *  ^rarno/  crtmsmei  mm  su:^  frai^mJ  6r  semt- 
*kamssge am  Mmxmr^  It  is  caPed  Jf, ^af lawL;. and  was pg&fa^ied  in  157&.  lufanedtiK 
popnlaTttT  of  Gsmier's  other  pbrjns  wbkii  dnnx^  tbe  isSkming  ueimaj  wese  ii.yiiiulf'd 
act  tbe  vemailcabk  sate  c£  an  e£:icm  everr  two  ^eaaL  *  JUL  AnSu:mt  bad  tbe  hcmam 
cf  beii^  translated  br  ^>e  Connies  of  Pembraike,  5ar  Aol^  Sidas^  s  sister,  in  1592. 
To  ns.  S^iakesaiesre  smdenSk,  ^ns  ti a  inflation  is  t£  imiaatanrr  l2s  date  renders  it 
IXKSBble  liua  it  msr  bsvr  Yieen  rend  ly  SSbakesvaie.  But  2*  Skakc^aeare  ever 
Vioked  into  ii.  I  dunk  be  nnd  no  itulbea  dkaa  to  &e  end  tifbtt  Aj*  mwmim\  wbeR  be 
iramd  ibe  sta^anetc  tbat  Ganner  bad  dsaim  lus  Tnatrnal  fraa  Fhztandb, — an  aaple 
nobce  tbat,  ia  Tmnffrial  ibr  bis  plar^  die  F;n^iiA  ^1  siiilia  caaild  gsn  nortimg  fnm 

Of  onnne«  Gamier  tock  Seneca  as  bis  model,  cxoest  ftac  be  ajj^imilr  &oask 
daat  if  ooie  CbniB>  was  good  two  wnnld  be  Irf tri . — a  Inanrr  in  wbic^  I  befiewe, 
Seneca  never  xndnlged.     Ganner  bas  a  Ousis  of  ^jjaiaiK  and  awrlw  1  of  Gear's 
aoldier&     Imwnmrb  as  die  tiiie  of  die  -pksx  is  M,  Amsams^  it  wiO  bardhr  sadbct  dtf 
Aninrr  aboo)d  he,  as  u:  lodeDe's  in^edy.  a  Shafie,  wincb  nho'  aH  mar  be  a  scasce  cf 
ic^JiA      ^ne  Irvini^ man  ^nieazs ooihr  twice  during  die  pbnc     T^ie ./vnf  ^4*7,  of  < 
Twr  bondrrd  and  tbxnr  ImrL.  is  one  Ino^  Innnhiinns  mmelagne  by  lua. 
be  eaahs  bis^  nwi:  iame  and  pmwea^  bewails  bis  na^is  denraiall,  and 
Oeoiioxia^s  dr;:«itfii]  ime  and  treaz^ierc.     Hs;  aecnnd  aiyeaiance  is  in  die 
Ajz  m^Msveii^  with  Ijicuiis  as  a£  occasiomd  imeAocstia;  be  cnndnnes,  ia  ahnot  de 
mme  number  nf  Im^,  die  same  mnnmfiii!  stxmn,  bcD  wi&  an  open  canfcaBOB  tbtf  le 
nmnnc  emanctnate  hin»elf  bnn:  Cleanatxa^  dnaDdnm.     It  ^  in  die  ccaBar  of  dis 
A*":  tbat  be  Knzavs  die  Tesent  seadn^  (ti  bis  Hame  w^ien  be  savs  : 
"  Car  Tier  tan:  ne  tnurmmtr  vn  Idtme  ec  la  nesere 
0*»e  «e  Tgrnesemgr  sa  imtnne  praarare." — p.  xo^.  ed.  xt»in. 
Witb  ar  bimesct^  hewnnL  make  be  imts  disae  lines  m  oantaxinT.  mmds^     Tbt 
bomtf^.  i  Tepye.:  tr-  sn^.  l^  nrc  abrwr  h^  tbe  Fos  CbonK,  xn  dms  d^stmgnsfixnp 
foliowtnf:  linfs . 


the  admnahir  I^ifr*^u:  ir  xbt  Conmes  of  T^embrake^  Amtmmu^  edned.  «^ 
ar.  IntyodantMiTk  hr  Au<'S  I~\7i     of  Bonor^  IftaairbMetg  \  ^ICcsbbc,  X%C*  1^  5^ 


DRAMA  TIC  VERSIONS— GARNIER 


5" 


*  Heurenz  qui  iamais  n*eut  de  vie 
Ou  que  la  mort  d^s  le  berceau 
Luy  a,  pitoyable,  rauie, 
L'emmailluttaDt  daus  le  tombeau.'— p.  171. 

which  recall  the  words  of  the  Chorus :    \ifi  ^vvat  r^  arravra  vticg  XSyov^  etc.  in  the 
(Edipus  Colonem  of  Sophocles,  line  1225,  et  seq. 

From  the  very  structure  of  the  dramas  formed  on  the  Seneca  model,  it  is  vain  to 
expect  any  development  of  character  beyond  that  which  twenty-four  hours  may 
effect  Qeopatra  appears  in  two  Scenes,  and  what  she  is  in  the  former  she  is  in  the 
latter, — a  woman  deeply  in  love  with  Antony,  freely  acknowledging  that  she  entan- 
gled him  in  her  snares  (and  a  little  proud  of  it),  and  completely  heart-broken  that 
Antony  should  think  she  had  been  treacherous  to  him.  In  describing  her  flight  at 
Actium  she  utters  two  lines  which  remind  us  and  merely  remind  us,  of  Shakespeare ; 
in  referring  to  Antony's  pursuit,  she  says  that  he  was 

*  Oublieux  de  sa  charge,  &  comme  si  son  ame 
Enst  est6  attach^e  i  celle  de  sa  Dame.' — p.  178. 

The  reason  she  gives  for  her  flight  and  for  her  decision  to  be  in  these  wars,  was 
her  extreme  jealousy,  lest  Antony  should  return  to  Octavia.     See  III,  vii,  23,  supra. 

In  the  Fourth  Act  Antony's  death  (described  as  in  Plutarch),  is  narrated  to  Gesar 
by  Dercetas.  The  Fifth  Act  is  devoted  to  Cleopatra,  who  takes  leave  of  her  children, 
and  although  continually  asserting  her  intention  to  kill  herself,  we  have  no  infor- 
mation as  to  when,  or  where,  or  how  she  at  last  fulfills  it.    The  Act  begins  as  follows : 

*  Cleopatra.    O  cruel  Fortune  !  O  acciu^*d  disaster  1 
O  noxious  love  !  O  torch  abominable  ! 

O  ill-starred  pleasures  !  O  caitiff*  beauty  I 
O  deadly  grandeur,  deadly  majesty  1 
O  hapless  life  I  O  pitiable  queen  ! 
O  Antony,  through  my  fault,  to  be  biuied ! 

0  heavens  too  malign !  alas !  all  blows 
And  rancour  of  the  gods  are  come  upon  us ! 
Ill-omened  queen  1  O  would  that  I  had  ne'er 
Beheld,  alas  I  the  wandering  light  of  day  1 

1  am  a  plague  and  poison  to  my  dear  ones  I 
I've  lost  the  ancient  sceptre  of  my  fathers  I 
This  kingdom  I've  enslaved  to  foreign  laws. 
And  of  their  heritage  deprived  my  children. 

Yet  this  is  nought,  alas  1  all  nought,  compared 
With  loss  of  you,  dear  spouse  \^E5poux\  by  me  ensnared^ 
Of  you,  whom  I  misled,  and  then  constrained 
By  bloody  hand,  to  lie  in  mouldring  tomb. 
Of  you  whom  I  destroyed,  of  you,  my  dearest  lord. 
From  whom  I  took  all  honour,  empire,  life  ! 

O  harmful  woman  I  H^  I  can  I  live  on, 
Locked  up  within  this  grisly,  haunted  tomb? 
Can  I  breathe  on  ?  and  can,  oh,  can  my  soul 
Continue,  in  such  grief,  within  my  body? 
O  Atropos,  O  Clot  ho,  fatal  spinners  ! 
O  Styx,  O  Phlegethon,  infernal  rivers ! 
O  Daughters  of  the  Night  I ' — p.  220. 


5 1 2  APPENDIX 

Oeopatra  confides  her  children  to  Euphronius,  with  the  pnijrer  that  he  will  wander 
with  them  over  the  face  of  the  earth  rather  than  suffer  them  to  (all  into  Caesar's  power. 
She  then  takes  leave  of  them,  as  follows : 

'  Who  knows  but  that  your  hands,  to  which  false  Fate 
Once  gave  the  promise  of  the  Latin  sceptre. 
Shall  bear,  instead  of  it,  a  crooked  sheep-hook, 
A  mattock,  or  a  goad,  or  guide  the  plough  ? 
Then  learn  to  suffer,  children,  and  forget 
The  glory  of  your  birth,  and  bend  to  fate. 
Adieu,  my  babes  \enfan^on5\  adieu,  my  heart's  oppressed 
With  pity,  grief;  already  death  has  pierced  me ! 
I  cannot  breathe !  Adieu  for  evermore ! 
Your  sire  or  me  you'll  never  more  behold. 
Adieu,  sweet  care,  adieu ! 

Children,  Madame,  adieu ! 

Cleopatra,     Hah  !  that  voice  kills  me.     Bons  Dieuz,  I  faint ! 
I  can  no  more.     I  die. 

Eras,  Madame,  would  yon 

Succumb  to  sorrow  ?  alas,  pray  speak  to  us ! 
Euphronius,     Come  children. 
Children,  We  come.*— p.  222. 

Charmion  and  Eras  at  last  succeed  in  reviving  the  Queen.  Thereupon  all  three 
begin  to  bewail  Antony,  and  continue  so  doing  for  seventy  lines,  during  which  Char 
mion  is  fearful  lest  their  tears  should  give  out,  and  suggests  that  they  keep  on  ciyiz^ 
'tant  qu'aurons  quelque  humeur.'  At  the  end  of  the  seventieth  line  occurs  the  fol- 
lowing passage  which  I  think  noteworthy.     It  is  Cleopatra  who  is  speaking : 

*  By  our  true  loves,  I  pray  thee,  Antony, 

By  our  two  hearts,  once  kindled  with  sweet  flames. 

Our  holy  marriage  [Par  nostre  saint  Hymen'\  and  the  tender  pity 

For  our  small  children,  pledges  of  our  love. 

That  to  thine  ears  my  mournful  voice  may  fly 

And  that  on  Pluto's  shore  thou  wilt  escort  me, 

Thy  wife,  thy  friend  ;  hear  thou,  O  Antony, 

Where'er  thou  art  these  sobbing  sighs  of  mine.' — ^p.  224. 
It  is  not  a  little  remarkable,  I  think,  that  in  more  than  one  of  these  eariy  versioiii 
Cleopatra  refers  to  Antony  as  her  husband.     Here  we  find  an  open  reference  to 
their  *  holy  marriage.'     No  other  version  that  I  can  recall  has  spoken  thus  explicitly. 
Cleopatra  continues : 

*  Till  now,  I've  lived  as  was  decreed  by  Fate, 
I  now  have  run  my  wingdd  course  of  years  ; 

I've  flourish'd;  and  I've  reign'd  ;  I've  taken  vengeance 

On  that  proud  foe,  who  holds  me  still  in  scorn. 

Happy,  thrice-happy  had  it  been  for  me 

If  never  fleet  of  Rome  had  touch'd  these  shores ! 

And  now  of  me  a  phantom  great  shall  go 

Beneath  the  world,  to  bury  all  my  woe  I ' — p.  225. 
Cleopatra  here  anticipates  the  line  which  Virgil,  in  the  Fourth  Book  of  the  MnH, 
will  put  into  Dido's  mouth,  *  Et  nunc  magna  mei  sub  terras  ibit  iroaga'    The  qoeeo 
continues  in  this  strain  for  about  twenty  lines;  among  them  are  the  following: 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— COUNTESS  OF  PEMBROKE 


sn 


*  Le  plus  aigre  toannent  qu'en  mon  ame  ie  sente, 
Est  ce  peu  que  ie  suis  de  toy,  mon  coeur,  abseote/ 

which  show  that  she  had  been  lately  readiDg  her  Jodelle.     She  then  concludes : 

*  Since  I  no  more  can  sprinkle  him  with  tears, — 
Ah  woe,  those  founts  in  me  are  all  drawn  dry, — 
What  is  there  left,  alas  !  but  lavish  kisses  ? 

O  fairest  eyes,  my  light,  then  let  me  kiss  you  ! 

O  brow,  proud  honour's  seat !  fair,  warlike  face ! 

O  neck  I  O  arms  1  O  breast  where  death 

Just  now,  black  deed,  has  struck  the  murderous  blow  I 

A  thousand  kisses,  and  yet  thousands  more, 

Accept  as  my  last  duty  to  your  fame. 

And  in  such  office  let  my  nerveless  frame 

Breathe  forth  my  soul  and  wither  on  thy  breast* 
And  this  is  all.     With  this  line  the  Tragedy  ends. 

Qeopatra's  character  is  not  altogether  colourless,  but  is  as  far  removed  as  possible 
from  any  Shakespearian  glow.  Her  love  is  boundless,  her  self-reproach  endless, 
her  self-abasement  abysmal,  her  knowledge  of  mythology  extensive,  and,  had  we 
not  had  some  experience  with  Jodelle,  we  should  consider  her  achievement  in  sol- 
iloquy phenomenal.  After  jrour  spirit  is  once  fairly  broken,  you  can  read  on  and 
on  with  a  tepid  gentle  excitement  that  is  not  unpleasing.  The  Choruses  are  always 
lyric,  with  occasional  passages  of  genuine  poetry.  In  all  the  incidents  of  the  play 
Plutarch  is  closely  followed,  and  at  all  times  there  is  a  subtle  consciousness  that  you 
are  in  the  hands  of  a  scholar. 

The  familiar  fact  has  been  already  mentioned  that  this  tragedy  of  Gamier  was 
*  done  into  English '  by  Mary  Sidney,  Countess  of  Pembroke.  It  was  published  in 
1592.  That  it  is  '  done  into  English '  is  true,  but  it  is  done  into  awkward  English, 
which  well  might  merit  a  stronger  adjective  when  we  recall  some  of  the  finished 
poetry  of  her  brother,  Philip.  She  sedulously  maintains  the  ten  syllables  of  an 
iambic  pentameter ;  but  to  do  this,  all  customary  order  of  words  is  at  times  violated. 
In  the  following  selection  I  think  and  I  hope  I  have  given  the  translation  at  its 
best  Passages  written  in  stichomythia  are  unusually  difficult  to  translate.  The  orig- 
inal French  is  throughout  (except  in  the  Choruses)  in  rhymed  Alexandrines.  With 
a  few  exceptions,  her  Ladyship  uses  rhyme  only  in  the  stichomythic  passages.  Char- 
mian  and  Eras  are  dissuading  Geopatra  from  suicide  : 

<  CAar.     Que  seit  k  son  malhenr  [1.  f.  Antony's]  cette  amour  etemelle? 

Ofc.    Qu'elle  seme,  ou  soit  vaine,  elle  doit  estre  telle. 

£r.     Cest  mal  lait  de  se  pcrdre  en  ne  profitlt  point 

C/eo,    Ce  n'est  mal  fait  de  suyure  vn  amy  si  conioint. 

£r.    Mais  telle  affection  n'  amoindrist  pas  sa  peine. 

CI.     Sans  telle  affection  ie  serois  inhumaine. 

CA.     Inhumain  est  celny  qui  se  brasse  la  mort 

C7.     Inhumain  n*est  celuy  qui  de  miseres  sort 

CJk.     Vraes  pour  vos  enfans.     CT.     Ie  roonrray  pour  leiir  pere. 

CA,     O  mere  rigoureuse  !     C/.     Espouse  debonnaire ! 

£r,     Les  voulez-vous  priuer  dn  bien  de  leors  ayeax  ? 

C7.     Les  en  priu^-ie?  non,  c'est  la  rigueor  des  dieux.' — p.  182,  1616. 
The  tranalatioo  of  the  Countess  of  Pembroke  is  as  follows : 

33 


5 14  APPENDIX 

'  Char.    What  hdps  his  wrack  this  euer>lastiiig  lone  ? 
CI,    Help,  or  help  not,  such  must,  such  ought  I  prone. 
Char,     111  done  to  loose  your  selfe,  and  to  no  ende. 
CL     How  ill  thinke  you  to  follow  such  a  frende  ? 
Char,     But  this  your  loue  nought  mitigates  his  paine. 
CL    Without  this  loue  I  should  be  inhumaine. 
Char,     Inhumaine  he,  who  his  owne  death  pursues. 
CI.     Not  inhumaine  who  miseries  eschues. 
Ch,     Liue  for  3rour  sonnes.     CI,    Nay,  for  their  father  die. 
Cha,     Hard  hearted  mother  I     CI.     Wife  kind-hearted  I. 
Ch,     Then  will  you  them  depriue  of  royall  right  ? 
CI,     Do  I  depriue  them?  no,  it*s  dest'nies  might' — p.  75,  ed.  Luce. 

GiRAix>i  CiNTHio,  in  1583,  follows  Gamier,  chronologically.  His  Cleopatra^ 
published  in  that  year,  I  have  not  succeeded  in  obtaining.  Klein  {lialiamdU 
Dratnen^  V>  352)t  gives  a  short  account  of  it  '  It  is  conceivable,'  he  says,  *nay, 
'  possible,  perhaps  even  not  improbable,  that  Shakespeare  was  acquainted  with  it* 
But  the  instances  that  Klein  cites  in  confirmation  are  among  those  which  Shake- 
sp>eare  derived  from  Plutarch,  and  are  therefore  necessarily  common  to  both  dramas 
MoELLER  (p.  12)  gives  a  fuller  account  of  Cinthio's  Tragedy y  and  proves  Klein's 
account  to  be  erroneous  in  several  particulars.  But  whether  we  accept  Moeller's 
abstract  or  Klein's,  the  latter's  general  conclusion  beats  truth  on  the  face  of  it: 

*  Shakespeare's  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  in  comparison  with  Cinthio's  Cleop€Ura  is  like 

*  the  barge  of  purple  and  gold  on  the  river  Cydnus,  and  a  little  paper  boat  which  a 
<  boy  sails  in  a  gutter.' 

In  1594  the  excellent  poet,  Samuel  Daniel,  put  forth  a  third  edition  of  his 
Sonnets y  addressed  to  the  imaginary,  or  at  least  unknown,  fair  *  Delia ^^  and  in  the 
same  volume  appeared,  for  the  first  time,  The  Tragedie  of  Cleopatra.  Danid's 
poems  were  deservedly  popular,  and  this  Tragedy  appeared  in  the  successive  editions 
of  them,  in  1599,  1601,  1605.  1607,  and  1609 ;  in  1611  the  Tragedy  was  issued  in  a 
separate  impression.  *  So  many  successive  editions  imply  a  wide  circle  of  reados, 
and  the  supposition  is  not  violent  that  in  this  circle  Shakespeare  was  included.  Were 
it  so,  he  would  have  found  one  of  the  very  few  dramas  in  the  English  language, 
modeled  throughout  on  the  drama  of  Seneca,  which,  even  in  its  severest  form,  still 
has  a  power  to  charm. 

As  far  as  any  dramatic  aid  is  concerned,  Shakespeare  could  have  found  none  whil- 
ever  in  Daniel's  Tragedy,     There  is  no  action  in  it     The  whole  of  the  First  Ad  is 
a  soliloquy  by  Cleopatra.     The  Second  is  a  dialogue  between  Caesar  and  Proculeinsw 
The  Third  is  another  between  Philostratus  and  Arius,  and  so  on.     Not  even  docs 
Cleopatra's  death  take  place  on  the  stage;  it  is  described  by  a  trusted  servant,  tbc 
same  who  had  brought  her  the  basket  of  figs  wherein  the  aspics  were  concealed. 
Whatever  influence  Daniel  had  on  Shakespeare  must  be  detected  not  in  any  action, 
but  in  similarity  of  thought  or  expression ;  of  this,  with  two  or  three  possible  excep- 
tions, I  can  find  no  traces  that  are  indubitable,  or  even  worthy  of  serious  consider- 
ation.    Naturally  there  are  passages  from  Plutarch,  even  following  the  very  words, 
which  are  common  to  both  poets,  but  therein  it  is  Plutarch,  not  Daniel,  whom  Shah- 

♦  Daniel,  fVorhs,  iii,  3,  ed.  Grosazt 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^DANIEL  515 

tpemre  has  followed.  One  of  the  exceptions  to  which  I  have  alluded  is  where  the 
messenger,  <  Nuntins,'  describes  his  interview  with  his  mistress  when  he  brought  her 
the  basket  of  figs  : 

*  Well,  in  I  went,  where  brighter  than  the  Sunne, 
Glittering  in  all  her  pompeous  rich  any. 

Great  Cleopatra  sate,  as  if  sh'  had  wonne 
Casar,  and  all  the  world  beside,  this  day : 
Euen  as  she  was  when  on  thy  cristall  streames, 
Cleare  Cydnos^  she  did  shew  what  earth  conld  shew ;  . .  • 
Euen  as  she  went  at  first  to  meete  her  lone, 
So  goes  she  now  againe  to  finde  him. 
But  that  first,  did  her  greatnes  onely  proue. 
This  last  her  loue,  that  could  not  Hue  behind  him.' — ^p.  84* 
Thus  Shakespeare's  Cleopatra  says, 

*  Shew  me,  my  women,  like  a  queen ;  go  fetch 
My  best  attires.     I  am  again  for  Cydnus 

To  meet  Mark  Anthony.' — V,  ii,  274. 

Again  Daniel's  Qeopatra  speaks  of  herself  as  Anthony's  wife.  She  b  address- 
ing the  spirit  of  the  dead  Anthony  to  intercede  for  her  with  the  gods,  and  thus 
adjures  him, 

'  O  worke  they  may  their  gracious  helpe  impart, 
To  saue  thy  wofull  wife  from  such  disgrace.' — p.  73. 

Again  there  is  a  faint  fleeting  similarity  in  the  two  following  passages.  Thus 
Daniel's  Qeopatra : 

< .  .  .  .  now  am  I  taught 

*  In  death  to  loue,  in  life  that  knew  not  how.' — p.  38. 

Thus  Shakespeare's : 

'  My  desolation  does  begin  to  make 

•  A  better  life.'— V,  ii,  2. 

Daniel's  Cleopatra  calls  Anthony  '  My  Atlas.' — p.  32 ;  Shakespeare's  calls  him 
*  The  demi- Atlas  of  this  earth.' — I,  v,  28. 

There  is  a  certain  passage  in  Shakespeare's  play  which  has  given  rise  to  some 
discussion  on  the  score  of  its  meaning.  It  is  where  Anthony  moralises  on  the  death 
of  Fulvia  and  says :  *  The  present  pleasure,  By  revolution  lowering,  does  become 
'The  opposite  of  itself.' — I,  ii,  145.  Can  it  be  that  this  is  a  condensation  of  the 
following  lines  in  Daniel  which  were  hovering  in  Shakespeare's  memory  ? 

*  Thus  doth  the  euer-changing  course  of  things 
Runne  a  perpetuall  circle,  euer  turning : 
And  that  same  day  that  hiest  glory  brings, 

Brings  vs  vnto  the  point  of  backe -returning.' — ^p.  52. 

And  I  think  these  are  all.  That  Shakespeare  had  read  Daniel's  Cleopatra  is  of 
course  possible  ;  that  it  is  even  probable,  is  not  impossible  ;  but  that  he  was  indebted 
to  it,  or  was  influenced  by  it,  in  the  faintest  degree,  in  the  delineation  of  any  of  his 
characters,  is,  I  think,  chimerical. 

Daniel  published  in  1599,  among  his  Poems,  A  Letter  from  Octatda  to  Marcus 
Antontus,  which  is,  to  me,  unattractive  and  lacking  in  earnestness,  and  with  no  trace 
whatsoever  of  any  influence  on  Shake^)eare. 


5i6 


APPENDIX 


I  have  deemed  it  beyond  the  scope  of  a  study  of  the  present  play  to  set  forth  any 
dramatisation  of  Qeopatra's  story,  wherein  the  scene  is  laid  before  the  period  when 
Antony  fell  in  love  with  her.     Accordingly,  no  notice  is  here  taken  of  the  Mort  tie 
Pompie,  1638,  by  Chaulmer  ;  ♦  nor  of  Corneillk's  Pom^e  (written  in  1643  f )  nor 
of  its  translation  by  the  *  Matchless  Orinda,'  in  1678 ;  nor  of  Colley  Gibber's  Oaar 
in  Egypt i  I725>  a  composite  of  Comeille's  Pompie  and  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  The 
False  One ;  nor,  in  our  own  day,  of  Casar  and  Cleopatra  by  Mr  Bernard  Shaw. 
An  exception  is  to  be  made,  however,  in  favour  of  The  Falu  One.     Scarcely  has 
there  appeared  in  recent  years  an  annotated  edition  of  Shakespeare  that  does  not 
contain  a  reference  to  it  in  connection  with  Anthony  and  Cleopatra.     It  was  written 
about  1620;  it  seems  to  be  pretty  generally  conceded  that  Massinger  wrote  the 
First  and  Fifth  Acts  and  Fletcher  the  rest     Why  it  should  take  its  title  from  a 
thoroughly  repulsive  character,  a  man  utterly  false  and  devoid  of  any  moral  prin- 
ciple, who  killed  his  benefactor,  Pompey,  and  is  not  the  hero  of  the  piece,  it  is  not 
easy  to  imagine.      The  play  deals  with  Julius  Csesar  and  his  subjection  to  the 
charms  of  Cleopatra.     The  story,  briefly  told  and  omitting  all  reference  to  <the 
false  one,'    is   that   Csesar,   in   pursuit   of  Pompey  after  the   battle  of  Pharsalia, 
reaches  Egypt,  and  there  finds  that  Ptolemy,  to  make  himself  more  secure  as  mon- 
arch on  the  throne,  has  'committed  to  safe  custody'  his  sister,  Qeopatra,  who 
by  law  was  his  equal  in  the  government     When  Cleopatra  learns  that  Caesar  is  at 
hand,  she  resolves  to  win  him  to  espouse  her  cause  against  her  brother.     How  she 
was  by  stealth  conveyed  to  his  tent,  concealed  in  a  mattress,  is  a  well-worn  story, 
together  with  the  consequent  subjection  of  Csesar  to  her  fascinations.     In  order  to 
impress  Caesar  with  a  knowledge  of  Egypt's  boundless  resources,  Ptolemy  foolishly 
attempts  to  dazzle  his  Roman  guest  by  a  display  of  wealth.     This  occurs  in  Act  III^ 
Scene  iv,  as  follows  :  Caesar,  Antony,  and  others  enter  on  the  upper  stage,  Qeopatra 
appears,  and  Antony  cries,  *  The  young  queen  comes  :  give  room  ! '  Caesar  responds, 
*  Welcome,  my  dearest ;    Come,  bless  my  side.'     Then  Ptolemy  and  his  courtiers 
enter,  also  on  the  upper  stage. 

*  Ptolemy.     Hail  to  great  Caesar ! 

My  royal  guest,  first  I  will  feast  thine  eyes 

With  wealthy  Egypt's  store,  and  then  thy  palate. 

And  wait  myself  upon  thee.  {^Attendants  bring  in  treasure  beUm, 

Casar.     What  rich  service ! 

What  mines  of  treasure  !  richer  still ! 
Cleopatra.     My  Caesar, 

What  do  you  admire  ?  pray  you,  turn,  and  let  me  talk  (0  you : 

Have  you  forgot  me,  sir  ?  how,  a  new  object ! 

Am  I  grown  old  o'  the  sudden  ?    Caesar ! 
Casar.     Tell  me 

From  whence  comes  all  this  wealth  ? 
Cleopatra.     Is  your  eye  that  way, 

And  all  my  beauties  banish'd  ? 
Ptolemy.     I'll  tell  thee,  Caesar; 

We  owe  for  all  this  wealth  to  the  old  Nilus.  .  . . 

Casar.     The  matchless  wealth  of  this  land  I 


*  Pompie  par  P.    Comeille,  edited  by  Professeur  FftLIX  H&MON,   3ieme  ed. 
Paris,   1897.     Introduction^  p.   16.  |  Op.  eit.^  p.  21. 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— THE  FALSE  ONE 


SI7 


Cleopatra.    Come,  you  shall  hear  me. 

Casar.     Away  !  let  me  imagine. 

Cleopatra.     How !  frown  on  me  I 
The  eyes  of  Caesar  wrapt  in  storms ! 

Casar.     I  am  sorry  : 
But,  let  me  think.  .  .  . 

Cleopatra  \^Aside.'\     A  little  dross  betray  me  !  .  .  . 

Casar,     The  wonder  of  this  wealth  so  troubles  me, 
I  am  not  well.     Good  night  .  .  . 

Cleopatra  [Aside."]     Well, 
I  shall  yet  find  a  time  to  tell  thee,  Csesar, 
Thou  hast  wrong' d  her  love.' 
This  fragment  is  given  that  it  may  fitly  introduce  the  following  Scene  which  is,  I 
think,  the  finest  in  the  play : 

*  Act  IV,  Scene  ii.      T%e  Apartments  <^  Cleopatra  fit  the  Palace, 
Enter  Qeopatra,  Arsinoe  [her  sisterly  and  Eros  [her  maid], 

Ars,     You  are  so  impatient ! 

Cleo.     Have  I  not  cause  ? 
Women  of  common  beauties  and  low  births. 
When  they  are  slighted,  are  allow*  d  their  angers  : 
Why  should  not  I,  a  princess,  make  him  know 
The  baseness  of  his  usage  ? 

Ars.     Yes,  'tis  fit : 
But  then  again  you  know  what  man — 

Cleo.     He  is  no  man  ; 
The  shadow  of  a  greatness  hangs  upon  him. 
And  not  the  Tirtue  :  he  is  no  conqueror ; 
H'as  suffered  under  the  base  dross  of  nature ; 
Poorly  delivered  up  his  power  to  wealth. 
The  god  of  bed-rid  men,  taught  his  eyes  treason ; 
Against  the  truth  of  love  he  has  rais'd  rebellion, 
Defied  his  holy  flames. 

Eros.     He  will  fall  back  again. 
And  satisfy  your  grace. 

Cleo,     Had  I  been  old. 
Or  blasted  in  my  bud,  he  might  have  shewed 
Some  shadow  of  dislike  :  but  to  prefer 
The  lustre  of  a  little  earth,  Arsinoe, 
And  the  poor  glow-worm  light  of  some  faint  jewels, 
Before  the  life  of  love  and  soul  of  beauty, 
Oh,  how  it  vexes  me !     He  is  no  soldier ; 
All  honourable  soldiers  are  Love's  servants : 
He  is  a  merchant,  a  mere  wandering  merchant. 
Servile  to  gain ;  he  trades  for  poor  commodities. 
And  makes  his  conquests  thefls.     Some  fortunate  captains 
That  quarter  with  him,  and  are  truly  valiant. 
Have  flung  the  name  of  Happy  Caesar  on  him ; 
Himself  ne*er  won  it :  he  is  so  base  and  covetous. 
He'll  sell  his  sword  for  gold. 


5i8 


APPENDIX 

Ars,     This  is  too  bitter. 

CUo,     Oh,  I  could  curse  myself,  that  was  so  foolish. 
So  fondly  childish,  to  believe  his  tongue, 
His  promising  tongue,  ere  I  could  catch  his  temper ! 
I  had  trash  enough  to  have  clo/d  his  eyes  withal, 
(His  covetous  eyes,)  such  as  I  scorn  to  tread  on. 
Richer  than  e'er  he  saw  yet,  and  more  tempting ; 
Had  I  known  he  had  stoop' d  at  that,  I  had  sav*d  mine  honoar, 
I  had  been  happy  still :  but  let  him  take  it. 
And  let  him  brag  how  poorly  I  am  rewarded  ; 
Let  him  go  conquer  still  weak  wretched  ladies : 
Love  has  his  angry  quiver  too,  his  deadly, 
And,  when  he  finds  scorn,  armdd  at  the  strongest. 
I  am  a  fool  to  fret  thus  for  a  fool, 
An  old  blind  fool  too ;  I  lose  my  health :  I  will  not, 
I  will  not  cry  ;  I  will  not  honour  him 
With  tears  diviner  than  the  gods  he  worships ; 
I  will  not  take  the  pains  to  curse  a  poor  thing. 

Eros.     Do  not ;  you  shall  not  need. 

CUo,     Would  I  were  prisoner 
To  one  I  hate,  that  I  might  anger  him  ! 
I  will  love  any  man,  to  break  the  heart  of  him, 
Any  that  has  the  heart  and  will  to  kill  him. 

Ars,     Take  some  fair  truce. 

Cieo,     I  will  go  study  mischief. 
And  put  a  look  on,  arm'd  with  all  my  cunnings, 
Shall  meet  him  like  a  basilisk,  and  strike  him. 
Love,  put  destroying  flames  into  mine  eyes. 
Into  my  smiles  deceits,  that  I  may  torture  him. 
That  I  may  make^him  love  to  death,  and  laugh  at  him  I 

Enter  ApoUodorus. 

Apol,    Caesar  commends  his  service  to  your  grace. 

CUo,    His  service  !  what's  his  service? 

Eros,     Pray  you,  be  patient ; 
The  noble  Caesar  loves  still. 

CUo.     What's  his  will  ? 

Apol.     He  craves  access  unto  jrour  highness. 

CUo,    No ; 
Say,  no ;  I  will  have  none  to  trouble  me. 

Ars,     Good  sister — 

CUo.     None,  I  say ;  I  will  be  private. 
Would  thou  hadst  flung  me  into  Nilus,  keeper. 
When  first  thou  gav'  st  consent  to  bring  my  body 
To  this  unthankful  Caesar ! 

Apol.     'Twas  your  will,  madam. 
Nay  more,  your  charge  upon  me,  as  I  honoured  you. 
You  know  what  danger  I  endur'd. 

CUo.     Take  this,  [Ghnng  a  jevtel. 

And  carry  it  to  that  lordly  Caesar  sent  thee  ; 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— THE  FALSE  ONE 

There's  a  new  love,  a  handsome  one,  a  rich  one, 
One  that  will  hug  his  mind :  bid  him  make  love  to  it ; 
Tell  the  ambitious  broker,  this  will  suffer — 

ApoL     He  enters. 

Enter  Caesar. 

Cieo.     How ! 

Casar,    I  do  not  use  to  wait,  lady ; 
Where  I  am,  all  the  doors  are  free  and  open. 

Cieo.    I  guess  so  by  your  rudeness. 

Casar,     You  are  not  angry  ? 
Things  of  your  tender  mould  should  be  most  gentle. 
Why  do  you  frown  ?  good  gods,  what  a  set  anger 
Have  you  forc'd  into  your  face  1  come,  I  must  temper  you : 
What  a  coy  smile  was  there,  and  a  disdainful ! 
How  like  an  ominous  flash  it  broke  out  from  you ! 
Defend  me  Love !  sweet,  who  has  anger*  d  you  ? 

Cleo,     Shew  him  a  glass  :  that  false  face  has  betiay'd  me, 
That  base  heart  wrong'd  me. 

Casar.    Be  more  sweetly  angxy. 
I  WTong'd  you,  fair  ? 

Cleo,    Away  with  your  foul  flatteries ! 
They  are  too  gross.     But  that  I  dare  be  angry, 
And  with  as  great  a  god  as  Caesar  is. 
To  shew  how  poorly  I  respect  his  memory, 
I  would  not  speak  to  you. 

Casar,     Pray  you,  undo  this  riddle. 
And  tell  me  how  I  have  vex'd  you  ? 

Cleo,     Let  me  think  first. 
Whether  I  may  put  on  a  patience 
That  will  with  honour  suffer  me.     Know,  I  hate  yoa ; 
Let  that  begin  the  story  :  now,  I'll  tell  you. 

Casar,    But  do  it  milder :  in  a  noble  Lady, 
Softness  of  spirit,  and  a  sober  nature. 
That  moves  like  summer  winds,  cool,  and  blows  sweetness. 
Shews  blessdd,  like  herself. 

Cleo.    And  that  great  blessedness 
You  flrst  reap'd  of  me  :  till  you  taught  my  nature. 
Like  a  rude  storm,  to  talk  aloud  and  thunder. 
Sleep  was  not  gentler  than  my  soul,  and  stiller. 
You  had  the  spring  of  my  affections. 
And  my  fair  fruits  I  gave  you  leave  to  taste  of; 
You  must  expect  the  winter  of  mine  anger. 
You  flung  me  off,  before  the  court  disgrac'd  me. 
When  in  the  pride  I  appear*  d  of  all  my  beauty. 
Appear*  d  your  mistress ;  took  into  your  eyes 
The  common  strumpet,  love  of  hated  lucre. 
Courted  with  covetous  heart  the  slave  of  nature. 
Gave  all  your  thoughts  to  gold,  that  men  of  glory. 
And  minds  adorn*  d  with  noble  love,  would  lack  at : 


519 


J20  APPEXDIX 

Soi<fios  of  Tora]  muk  scorn  sndi  hue 
Beantj  and  liaooiir  are  the  marks  tbej  sbooc 
I  spake  to  joo  then,  I  coorted  jroo,  aad  voo'd  y 
CalTd  Toa  **  dear  Carar,"  hvng  abost  joa  tenderif. 
Was  prood  to  appear  yocr  fncoJ — 

Crii«r.     Yoa  bare  wigakrn  aae. 

Ot?.     Bat  nether  ere,  ncir  £ftToiir,  not  a  ^aile. 
Was  I  bless'd  b«ck  vidi,  fast  shook  off  ndelr; 
And.  as  ]noa  had  been  solo  to  sovdid  isiiLKj, 
Yoa  {mSl  before  the  xBases  ox'  tieaswe. 
And  in  jonr  sool  joo  vorshipp^d :  I  siood  s&gbledv 
Focpxten,  axxl  oietemn^'d :  mj  soft  embraces^ 
And  duae  sweet  kisses  joc  calTd  ESraoB, 
As  IcClea  viit  m  snd,  no  oacre  irmrwbrr'd  ; 
Tb<  naae  and  giofj  of  vocr  Cleopafra 
Laogb^d  at,  and  nnde  a  saorr  to  joor  captains: 
SZtan  Icndnre? 

Cc3«r.     Yo«  are  decesT-'d  m  all  lbs; 
Upon  mr  life,  jxtq  are :  'tas  joor  Back  Icndemcsa. 

CU*.     Xo,  DO ;  I  k:ve  noC  that  vaj ;  jon  are  ooaei^d  : 
I  love  widi  as  aiach  amhirinn  as  a  caoqaersf; 
And.  wboel  Io«e»  vill  tirauufi 

Cmsot.     So  Ton  shall ; 
SI  T  heart  shall  be  the  ^axiot  that  shaC  bev  jon  ; 
AU  I  ^Te  von  shall  wait  opoa  von. — Bf  &e  {od^  [Aziie. 

Dear  ^stress  sbaH  I  bat  this 

Ofy.     Hov,  Caesar! 
Have  I  let  sir?  a  seaacd 
^nes  thee  hope? 

Ctiar.     Yo«  shall  be 


And  lagB  alone  as  qneen;  von  shall  be  anj 

Ge9.     FazeveC  imfbanfcfiJ  ! 

CK>tr.     SfiiT. 

C2nr.     I  vOf  ncc 

Cea«r.     I  cLuiuat-wL 

CZev^  Owiniaialy  and  fo  nkhuut^  k. 
I  do  ccmnwnrt  rior  be  mr  save  far  evcx; 
voile  I  Lxn^  at  taee. 

Ca».     It  3  d?o  laoe :  -nest  I  hare  fincad  thee  afaaoftiie^ 
that  cuie  lepurts  Offe,  and  3;>  me. 
Xar  be  I  shall  think  better.     FseweiL  conpaerar !  *  [jEaxc 

r  tzE  the  eihi  of  the  p&aiv  Oessr  s  thumhta  aac  acts  are  dimAii  to 
mself  &ana  oe  doa^cs  dL  an  msarTedioa  cf  oe  Alexnadrana,  v^ 
beskjsed  dfee  F^aace  and  thrctfsaed  desh  33  aC  itt  mmntes.     Oesar  and  a  iiev 
01  lies  sends  sncceed  in  ^  Jitti'iB|^  the"r  vay  9o  his  ship&.     ^olcmiv  anempKs  to  fiQu^^v, 
nai  is  oi£  down  and  CEsnpted  !d  -^'>'**'^      Cxsar  ivfiuus  vitk  his  Il^hju^  F^^ 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— MAY 


521 


the  hemds  of  her  two  greatest  enemies.     His  last  words  recur  to  the  close  of  the 
Scene,  given  above.     '  And  now,  my  dearest,'  he  says  as  he  turns  to  Qeopatra, 

*  Look  upon  Caesar,  as  he  still  appeared  [qu.  appears  /] 
A  conqueror ;  and,  this  unfortunate  king 
Entomb'd  with  honour,  we'll  to  Rome,  where  Caesar 
Will  show  he  can  give  kingdoms  ;  for  the  Senate, 
Thy  brother  dead,  shall  willingly  decree 

The  crown  of  Egypt,  that  was  his,  to  thee.  [^Exeunt,* 

It  remains  only  to  add  that  here  and  there,  throughout  the  play,  we  hear  Shake- 
spearian echoes,  such  as  where  Qeopatra  says,  '  and  for  thy  news  Receive  a  favour 
*  kings  have  kneeled  in  vain  for.  And  kiss  my  hand.' — I,  ii;  again  Sceva  thus 
describes  Qeopatra,  *  She  will  be  sick,  well,  sullen  Merry,  coy,  over-joy'd,  and  seem 
'  to  die.  All  in  one  half-an-hour.'  Again,  in  the  foregoing  extract,  where  Qeopatra 
saysy '  Had  I  been  old,  Or  blasted  in  my  bud,'  there  is  an  echo  of  Constance's  lament 
for  Arthur  in  King  John. 

Of  all  the  Versions  with  which  I  am  acquainted.  The  Tragedie  of  Cleopatra  Queen 
of  Egypt ^  Written  by  Thomas  May,  Esq.,  London,  1654,  *  is  the  weakest  and  least 
imaginative.     I  know  of  no  source  wherefrom  gratitude  for  it  can  spring,  except  from 
Citoyen  Morgues,  who  is  saved  by  it  from  being  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  list    In 
the  First  Act  we  learn  of  the  dissatisfaction  among  Antony's  generals  in  Alex- 
andria, caused  by  the  lavish  way  in  which  Antony  bestows  provinces  on  Cleopatra. 
There  is  also  a  feast  given  by  Qeopatra,  who  entreats  her  guests  to  be '  freely  merry,' 
which  must  have  been  *  a  sweating  labour,'  if  the  following  *  Song,'  introduced  with- 
out prelude  in  the  midst  of  the  feast,  indicates  the  height  of  revelry : 
'  Not  hee,  that  knows  how  to  acquire 
But  to  enjoy,  is  blest 
Nor  does  our  happinesse  consist 
In  motion,  but  in  rest 

'  The  Gods  passe  man  in  blisse,  because 
They  toile  not  for  more  height ; 
But  can  enjoy,  and  in  their  own 
Etemall  rest  delight 

*  Then,  Princes,  do  not  toile,  nor  care ; 

Enjoy  what  you  possesse. 

Which  whilest  you  do,  you  equalize 

The  Gods  in  happinesse.' 

Antony  thus  describes  Qeopatra' s  appearance  on  the  Cydnus : 

*  And  down  the  silver  stream  of  Cydnus^  thou 
In  Venus  shape  cam'st  sayling,  while  the  aire 
Was  ravish'd  with  thy  Musick,  and  the  windes 
In  sunorous  gales  did  kisse  thy  silken  sayls. 
Thy  maids  in  Graces  habits  did  attend. 

And  boys,  like  Cupids^  painted  quivers  bore, 
While  thousand  Cupids  in  those  starry  eyes 
Stood  ready  drawn  to  wound  the  stoutest  hearts.' 

*  For  a  copy  of  this  Tragedy  I  am  indebted  to  the  courtesy  of  the  Library  of  The 
University  of  Pennsylvania. — Ed. 


5" 


APPENDIX 

Ad  AitaBj  mad  las  genenls  decide 
it  is  also  decided  tbat 
TlkindAaism^ 


■padkmats  ck^kS 


li  IMIlO^. 

JBiDs  «3ig*iLev  311*'  igiinfe^.  liaa:  \b:  iuwjs  cBi  ^S&I! 


d: 


ftntfc,    SK  ^[IIES.  "*  'WtC  S?  'till  WJ    0WS  ivsBi£ 
^IMR  lU .  'Sir  lUL  IC    SMS 

IC 


:d«>  niimwtt  ST  laBMUL  iwar  lie:      Ss 
^J^  :iiiiLimiT  CcMnOTv  Ir  tiu& 
'^^p^aild*"     d»mxi«.  7;<««iii«^  u  iis- 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS-^MAY  523 

of  nnalteiable  love,  and  at  last  threatens  to  resort  to  *  the  lovely  aspe '  which  she  has 
kept  to  saTe  her  from  Caesar,  but  will  now  apply  against  a  '  worst  fo/ — Antonins's 
baseness.  Antony  relents,  apologises,  and  orders  Thjrreus  to  be  released.  In  the 
Fifth  Act  Csesar  and  Qeopatra  have  an  interview ;  the  latter  throws  upon  Fate  the 
guilt  of  her  past  actions,  and  Caesar  bids  her  still  live  in  all  her  regal  state,  and  whis- 
pers directions  to  Epaphroditus  in  reference  to  it.     Whereat  Qeopatra,  aside  : 

*  Yes,  whisper  on ;  you  cannot  over-reach 
My  jealousies :  no  signes  of  love  at  all. 

No  smile,  nor  amorous  glance  ;  I  was  deceiv'd. 

And  meerly  coosen'd  by  base  Thjrreus.' 
As  a  result  of  the  interview,  Caesar,  extremely  forehanded,  provides  two  •  Psyls,' 
as  May  calls  them,  to  '  suck  the  mortall  venome '  from  Cleopatra  in  case  she  should 
die  by  an  asp.     Cleopatra  writes  to  Caesar  infonning  him  that  by  the  time  he  receives 
the  note  she  will  be  no  more,  and  then  q)eaks,  as  follows : 

*  So  now  my  trouble  is  renaov'd,  I  come, 
I  come  my  dearest  Lord  An/omius, 
Never  till  now  thy  true  and  (aithfull  love. 
My  much  abused  Lord,  do  not  disdain 
Or  blush  t' acknowledge  Cleopatra^ %  name 

When  teais  and  bk>ud  have  wash'd  her  spotted  sooL 
Wert  thou  alive  again,  not  all  the  world 
Should  shake  my  constancie,  or  make  divorce 
Twixt  thee  and  mee ;  but  since  too  late,  alas, 
My  tears  of  sorrow  come,  I'll  follow  thee. 
And  beg  thy  pardon  in  the  other  world.  .  .  . 
Though  false  to  thee  alive,  I  now  am  come 
A  faithfull  lover  of  thy  dust  and  tombe.' 
When  we  next  see  her,  she  is  crowned  and  <  takes  her  state' ;  Antooy's  hearse  is 

brought  in. 

*  This/  she  says,  '  is  my  second  Coronation  day ; 
But  nobler  then  the  first,  and  fuller  faire 

Of  reall  hoix>ur,  and  magnificence. 

Nor  till  this  pompous  houre  was  Cleopatra 

A  perfect  Queen.' 
When  Charmioo  reminds  her  that  Antony  is  dead,  Qeopatra  denies  it,  and  says 
that  he  still  lives  in  the  other  world  and  is  awaiting  her,  and  from  that  seat  of  state 
she  will  look  down  on  Rome  and  Caesar's  threats.    Then  addressing  Antony's  hearse, 
her  last  words  are, 

'  Farewell  thou  fading  remnant  of  my  Love. 

When  I  am  gone,  I'll  leave  these  earthly  parts 

To  keep  thee  company :  never  to  part. 

But  dwell  together,  and  dissolve  together. 

Come  Aspe,  possesse  thy  mandon ;  freely  feed 

On  these  two  hilb,  upon  whose  snowy  tops 

The  winged  Cupid  oft  has  Uken  stand. 

And  shot  from  thence  the  proudest  hearts  on  eaxth. 

Corruption  now,  and  rottennesse  must  seise 

This  once  admired  fabrick,  and  dissolve 

This  flesh  to  coounon  elements  agaiiL 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— DELFINO  525 

<  For  life  and  throne  I  have  no  further  care  ; 
From  every  human  wish  my  heart  is  free. 

I  have  lived  and  I  have  reigned/ 
With  the  exception  of  a  short  Scene,  in  which  an  astrologer,  Sesastre  by  name,  is 
puzzled  in  reading  Cleopatra's  stars  which  foretell  a  marriage  and  a  death  within  an 
hour,  the  rest  of  the  Act  is  taken  up  by  Agrippa  with  the  description  of  a  storm  at 
sea,  and  by  Augustus  with  a  full  account  of  Antony*  s  death  and  of  the  seizure,  as 
prisoner,  of  Cleopatra,  wherein  throughout  Delfino  follows  Plutarch.  The  Chorus 
which  closes  each  Act  here  denounces  navigation,  which  offers  facilities  for  rich  and 
powerful  nations  to  approach  and  conquer  other  countries  as  the  Romans  have  con- 
quered Egypt.  We  next  learn  from  Ergonda  that  Cleopatra,  overborne  by  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  astrologer  and  the  arguments  of  Ergonda  herself,  has  consented  to 
look  with  favour  on  Augustus's  love  if  it  be  offered  voluntarily,  and  has  instructed 
Ergonda  to  sound  the  Emperor  on  the  subject.  But  the  maid  is  timid  and  decides 
that  it  is  better  to  entrust  the  delicate  matter  to  an  erudite  priest,  Acoreo.  In  the 
next  Scene  Augustus  describes  to  Agrippa  how  his  pity  for  Cleopatra  has  developed 
into  love ;  to  console  her  in  her  bitter  lot  he  visited  her  more  than  once  and  became 
dazzled  by  her  beauty;  the  sovereignty  which  had  fallen  from  her  hand  she  still  bore 
on  her  brow;  when  she  spoke  every  word  was  a  fetter  and  every  glance  of  her 
eye  a  snare.  Thus  he  became  the  prisoner  of  his  prisoner.  Agrippa  sympathises 
with  his  royal  master  and  advises  him  secretly  to  marry  the  queen,  who  would  then 
be  willing  to  go  to  Rome,  imder  the  temporary  guise  of  a  prisoner ;  she  would  be 
not  the  conquered,  but,  in  reality,  the  conqueror.  This,  however,  is  too  great  a  gift 
to  be  proffered.  Cleopatra  must  be  induced  to  ask  for  it  This  delicate  service 
Agrippa  undertakes,  but  in  the  course  of  prolonged  self-communings  he  decides 
that  he  had  better  entrust  the  extremely  delicate  affair  to  the  more  skilful  hands  of 
the  learned  priest,  Acoreo.  In  the  meantime  Ergonda  had  sought  out  this  same 
Acoreo  and  begged  him  to  elicit  with  all  possible  caution  the  nature  of  the  senti- 
ments of  Caesar  toward  Cleopatra.  This  Acoreo  consents  to  do  to  the  extent  of  his 
ability.  An  interview  between  Agrippa  and  Acoreo  follows  wherein  after  a  vast 
deal  of  circumlocution,  the  project  of  a  marriage  between  Augustus  and  Cleopatra  is 
broached  and  Acoreo  is  made  a  plenipotentiary  in  the  premises.  The  Chorus  sings 
its  little  song  over  the  power  of  Fortune  and  the  Second  Act  closes.  In  the  next  Act 
we  listen  to  the  ecstatic  rhapsodies  of  Augustus  over  the  loveliness  of  Cleopatra; 
we  hear  of  a  fearful  dream  of  his,  wherein  he  sees  Death  break  Cupid's  bow,  while 
exclaiming  '  Cleopatra  is  mine.'  Acoreo  tries,  in  vain,  to  persuade  the  queen  that 
Caesar's  love  for  her  is  true ;  she  refuses  to  believe  it  and  sends  word  that  she  is 
determined  to  die  that  very  day.  In  his  profound  despair  at  hearing  this,  Augustus 
empowers  Agrippa  to  offer  immediate  marriage  to  the  queen,  but  that  it  must  be  kept 
secret  until  their  arrival  in  Rome.  In  the  next  Act  Qeopatra's  scruples  yield  to  the 
persuasion  of  Acoreo,  and  when  Agrippa  enters  and  delivers  the  message  from 
Augustas  he  finds  her  acquiescent.     As  her  last  words  to  him,  she  declares, 

<  When  in  Augustus  I  behold  such  power 
United  with  such  goodness,  I  am  forced 
To  question  if  there  be  not  hither  come 
Some  god  to  dwell  with  us  awhile  on  earth. 
Already  with  his  host  he's  conquered  Egypt, 
But  by  this  noble  offer  he  has  made 

He  has  conquered  even  Qeopatra. 


5^6  APPENDIX 

I  ca»  Heny  him  nochiiM^  more.     For 
His  ftlt^htesr  wish  sh«U  be  my  inghtjt  law;.' — p^.  X14. 
NVIien  alone,  Cleopstn  indtU^es  m  driicTCT  da^MiramB  of  her  power  in  Rflme; 
antt  of  her  ^xnitaiMm  at  the  sight  ot  proud  Raama  iiia>nin%  kisnig^  the  grauKi  before 
ber.      1  ler  thoo^hts,  bowerer,  revert  to  Aotony,  and. she  *■*■>■"■■ 

'  B^Heve  me.  ah  l)elteTe,  ihoa  Shade  sdnrrrt  1 
Could  tears  recaii  thee  to  the  Titai  air 
Into  t^vTn  foimts  my  eyes  at  once  ^himki  tBzn.' 
Then  she  refleets  that  if  tears  and  gnet  cooid  rccaii  the  dead  to  lifie»  deatk  iroaid 
onr  be  <leflth  ;  she  miBt  submit  to  natnre,  and  time  mnst  brin^  her  mnin4ation»  bat 

'  O  Shade  revered  and  loved*  here  now  i  swear 
Thine  imai^e  never  shall  depart  this  heaiti 
VVhaie'er  mv  lot,  or  'neath  whatever  dime 
Thy  xDcmory  shall  be  noblest  and  xdoa  deari ' 
AngMStus  also  has  his  hoor  of  exnltaxjon  and  esaltatkm^  and  needs  over  %  hmxhed 
Iinei9  wherein  to  express  his  enrapcnred  emotions,     .\giippa.  entets^  and»  ■  '^**g"'*'"g 
the  emhairassRient  that  wfmid  anse  should  it  become  known  in  Rome  that  Angmtia 
wak%  ahcQt  to  marry  Roane'5  bitter  foe  before  Angnstm  himw4f  conki  reach  that  dtf 
an<1  conrmi  the  situation,  advises  his  royai  master  to  HmfwHh  a  letter  to  the 
wsmn>|r  the  Senators  to  disheiieve  any  soch  report,  and  that  in.  a  £ew  days  he 
brfn^  Cleopatra  as  a  captive  in  chains  to  Rome,  etc     .\BgmBS  approves  of  the  piaa. 
The  lefter  is  written,  inxt  in  quelling  a  disturbance  at  the  harfaoiir,  Agiippa  loses  iL 
It  was  foand  and  bmutrbt  to  Cleopatra,  who  opened  it  and  there  read^  as  she  naa- 
nilly  betteved,  an  incontrovertible  proof  of  Angnstna's  treachery.     Her  grief,  bontic; 
and  mfaei  >  are  extreme,  hot  her  dnty  is  now  dear  before  brr,     the  nmit  at  once 
rejoin  Antony  and  prepare  for  the  fatal  voyage  in  Charon's  boat.    9ie  writes anote: 
'  Fmm  Clenpatni  already  enrolled  in  the  Book  of  the  Dead«  to  theinhnnHm  Angpstn^ 
'  If  thy  wrath  at  my  death  be  over,  he  silent  conceniing  the  base  secret  [that  she  had 
'  been  fsithlev  for  a  while  to  Antony's  memory]  ^iriiidi  I  carry  to  the  tomb  and  to 
'ih^  Tartarean  <<frand/  etc.     This  note  she  entmals  to  Ergonda,  who  delivers  it  to 
Ao|fn<tns  with  bitter  reproaches^      Augostos  is  plonged  into  the  deepest  despnr^  and 
to  his  lamentations  Ergonda  responds,  •  Thns,'  she  says,  •  a  coccodxfll  \nt\  weejjs 
'  when  he  has  killed  a  man. '    .She  tdls  how  CIeopati&,  widi  Augostns's  letter  to  the 
.<^natr  in  her  hamf.  had  gone  into  her  garden,  and,  seeking  some  means  wfaerebv  » 
wd  Hfe  qnkVly,  her  eye*  lit  on  a  \-ase  of  ^wers  wherein  she  csn^  sight  «»f  two 
.i^plfs,  which,  in  «pite  of  Rfgonda's  straggles  wrth  her,  she  had  socceeded  in  applr- 
ing  to  her  breast ;  the  deadly  poison  conqoered  the  fortress  of  h»  heart«  and  she 
f^^l  to  the  groimd  iike  a  lovely  porple  flower  cnt  down  by  die  pkn^hshare.    Ai^nsM 
hf^t  (fp  hfn  voice  in  rvftter,  heartrending  lamentatians.     The  Choms  MH»>*T«i«^  hoe* 
^ver.  that  f  ler^pntr t  is  not  yet  dead,  thar  Acoreo  had  fomid  her;  explaxned  gwaft^ig, 
and  thfit  nnw  <he  wf«heK  to  jiee  Aognstas  before  the  hnt  sigh  ocapes  &om  her  ifaa^ 
hf<*?i«t      Ang«f«tii«  ha«fen<  to  her  jide.     fSie  tells  him  diat  her  feet  ahesly  sand  oa 
fw'ar^l  the  fatal  .«Vfff      Awful  %%  \%  the  approach  of  death,  mote  ewfel  sdn  is  de 
(Nt<ttch«  r«f  hof  vreat  nnfarthfalness  to  Aocooy's  memory.     '  It  s  not  right,*  she  wf^ 

to   ^tlfttttttjl, 

'  That  it  Khould  grieve  yon  thos, 
t)eciitt<e  the  Kales  have  taken  fron  my  heart 
The  noNe  cift  which  yon  90  lately  made. 
(^  b  not  worthy  of  your  priceless  love. 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS-^CASPER  527 

Who,  tempted  by  desire  or  empty  pride, 

Could  prove  a  traitress  to  that  noble  Shade  1 

Bestow  DO  grief,  I  pray,  where  none  is  due. 

A  faithless  heart  deserves  not  Caesar's  tears. 

Ah  woe  !  ah  woe !  I  feel  the  fatal  shears 

Which  slit  the  thin-spun  thread  of  waning  life. 

Adorid  Shade,  if  thou  still  hover  near. 

Do  not  disdain  to  list  the  earnest  prayer 

Of  penitence  sincere,  and  tend  on  me. 

While  forth  I  fare  toward  that  nighted  shore ; 

And  on  that  horrid  path,  shield  thou  thy  Cleopatra.  . .  . 

My  life,  Augustus,  lingers  only  now 

Upon  the  cool  edge  of  my  dying  lips, 

A  sigh,  and  it  is  gone  for  ever. 

Lo,  Destiny,  thou  hast  conquered  ! 

Farewell,  my  country, — friends,  farewell !  [DusJ* 

Germany  was  the  last  among  European  nations  to  awaken  to  the  charm  of  dra- 
matic tragedy.  There  are  rival  claimants  to  the  honour  of  being  the  first  to  set  forth 
this  charm,  but  it  is,  I  believe,  now  generally  conceded  that  this  honour  belongs  to 
Daniel  Casper  von  Lohenstein,  who,  in  1660,  produced  Cleopatra^  *  the  first 
'  technically  correct  German  tragedy/  *  Few  dramatists  have  experienced  more 
deeply  than  Casper  the  alternations  of  popularity  and  neglect ;  extolled  in  his  own 
day,  and  for  long  years  afterward,  as  the  greatest  of  dramatic  poets,  surpassing 
Greeks,  Romans,  and  French  (I  believe  the  comparison  never  extended  to  Shake- 
qxare),  his  (ame  dwindled,  until  in  recent  times  *  Lohensteinian  bombast '  became 
a  term  of  reproach.  The  estimation  in  which  he  is  held  at  the  present  day  seems  to 
be  more  moderate  and  more  just, — whatever  excellences  he  shows  are  his  own,  and 
hit  defects,  which  are  many,  are  the  limitations  of  a  pioneer  in  a  new  field.  His 
tragedy  of  Cleopatra  extends  to  four  thousand  two  hundred  and  thirty-five  lines 
(the  lines  are  numbered, — I  should  never  have  had  the  patience  to  count  them)  of 
rhymed  Alexandrines.  Gen^e  suggests  (p.  49)  that  Casper  did  not  consider  the 
Drama  in  connection  with  the  stage,  but  as  a  department  of  literature.  This  sug- 
gestion IS,  I  think,  to  be  charitably  accepted. 

The  drama  begins  after  the  battle  of  Actiom.  Antony  has  repulsed  an  attack  of 
Roman  cavalry,  but  is  deserted  by  his  soldiers,  contemplates  suicide,  thinks  better 
of  it,  calls  a  council  of  war,  in  course  of  which  he  explains  that  the  defeat  at  Actium 
was  due  to  Fate,  who  attacked  him  •  tooth  and  nail,'  and  discharged  from  heaven  on 
him  lightning,  hail,  rain,  thunderbolts,  turning  sails  inside  out.  entangling  the  ropes, 
unshipping  masU  and  rudders.  Wherefore,  no  one  could  blame  Cleopatra  for  lead- 
ing the  way  to  safety  out  of  this  sulphurous  hell  (line  105)— an  apology  for  Cleo- 
patra's flight  which  is,  I  think,  unusual.  The  result  of  the  council  is  that  no  agree- 
ment is  to  be  made  with  Cesar,  and  that  Antony  must  not  expose  himself  in  battle 
(line  434).  In  the  next  .Scene  Qeopatra  tearfully  narrates  to  Antony  the  fearful 
omens  which  had  attended  her  devotions  in  the  temple,  Apis  had  with  his  breath 
extinguished  the  incense,  which  betokened  that  Egypt  should  be  reduced  to  ashes ; 


^Danul  Casper  ?'cm  Lohenstein  s  TrauerspUle^  etc.,  von  Dr  AUG.  KercKHOFFS, 
Psaderbom,  1877,  p.  7. 


528 


APPENDIX 


the  nine  and  twenty  signs  wherein  this  sacred  animal  resembles  the  moon,  all  dis- 
appeared, where  his  colour  was  usually  white  it  turned  black,  and  where  black  it  was 
like  snow,  etc.  Antony  comforts  her  by  interpreting  all  these  signs  as  favourable. 
Proculeius,  the  ambassador  of  Csesar,  is  announced,  and  Antony  gives  him  aadience. 
Proculeius  declares  that  his  mission  is  in  the  interest  of  peace  ;  consequently  he  and 
Antony  begin  mutual  recriminations  which  continue,  in  stichomythia,  in  almost 
unbroken  sequence  for  one  hundred  and  four  lines ;  but  at  last  Proculeius  unfolds  the 
agreement,  namely,  that  Antony  shall  leave  Egypt,  break  away  from  Qeopatza,  live 
with  Octavia,  and  set  free  Artabazes.  Antony  promises  that  he  will  set  free  Axta- 
bazes  and  will  give  an  answer  to  the  other  demands  before  the  day  is  over.  In 
the  Second  Act  Thyreus  tells  Qeopatra  that  Csesar  is  veiy  much  in  love  with  her, 
that  *  the  flames  of  love  have  melted  into  one  his  soul  and  heis.*  But  Qeopatra  is 
cautious  and  suspects  that  Thyreus  is  dissembling,  because,  as  she  says,  the  cause  of 
Rome's  enmity  to  Antony  is  that  it  imagines  that  he  drew  gall  and  poison  from  her 
breast ;  it  had  washed  the  blood  from  the  hands  of  the  murderers  of  the  great  Julias, 
on  the  pretext  that  he  had  been  defiled  by  her  bed,  as  though  it  had  been  a  nest  of 
vipers,  and,  furthermore,  Augustus  was  no  boy  that  he  should  love  her  now,  when 
all  her  beauty  was  gone.  When  Thyreus  replies  that  Augustus  is  sincere  in  his  love, 
Cleopatra  asks  why  then,  when  Antony  offered  to  kill  himself,  if  thoeby  the  possession 
of  Egypt  could  be  secured  to  her,  he  did  not  accept  Antony's  offer?  Kerckhoffs 
is  aware  that  Casper  found  this  offer  of  Antony  in  Dion  Casaus  and  yet  he  says  that 
nothing  more  dramatic  can  be  imagined  than  this  unconsdous  admission  by  Qeo- 
patra of  Antonyms  magnanimity  of  soul.  Th3rreus  per^sts  and  begs  the  Queen  to  per- 
mit Augustus  to  '  taste  the  spice  of  love  on  her  sugar  lips,  where  kisses  will  draw  cot 
*  each  other's  soul.'  He  confirms  his  commission  by  producing  Caesar's  bond  and  seal 
Qeopatra  accepts  all  ecstatically,  sends  a  ring  to  Csesar  as  a  |dedge  that  she  sm^ 
renders  herself  wholly  to  him,  and  that 

<  Before  Osiris  grants  another  dawn  and  light, 
Antonius  to  the  world  shall  bid  a  long  good  nigfat.' 
In  order  to  fulfill  this  promise,  Qeopatra,  in  the  next  Scene,  induces  her  son, 
Caesarion,  and  her  privy  counselor,  Ardiibius,  to  join  her  in  rengeance  on  Antonj, 
who,  she  falsely  tells  them,  has  approved  of  a  plan,  broached  in  the  foregoing  con- 
ference with  Proculeius,  for  destroying  her  by  poison  smeared  over  her  body. 
Archibius  decides  that  Antony  must  die,  and  Caeauion  silently  acquiesces.  They 
are  interrupted  by  the  announcement  that  Antony  seeks  an  interview  with  Qeopttn, 
who,  after  the  departure  of  Archibius  and  Caesarion,  ofder  the  three  diildren  to  be 
brought  in.  Antony  enters  much  dejected,  but  declares  that  a  kiss  will  piove  § 
refreshing  western  wind  to  his  languishing  heart.  Qeopatra  immediately  begins, 
however,  with  bitter  reproaches  for  not  having  been  admitted  to  the  conference  with 
Proculeius,  which  she  chooses  to  interpret  as  a  proof  that  Antony  intends  to  desot 
her.  She  bids  the  children  embrace  the  knees  of  their  father  and  beg  for  mercy  for 
her  and  for  diemselves.  They  obey,  and  with  such  effect  that  Antony's  heart  if 
deeply  moved,  and  he  swears  by  Osiris  and  by  Jujnter  that,  until  Clotho  shall  sever 
his  thread  of  life,  he  will  love  and  honour  Qeopatra,  and  will  instantly  send  bad 
Pioculeius,  unanswered,  to  Caesar,  and  thereby  break  off  all  n^odatiotts.  Hereby 
Qeopatra*  s  treachery  gains  much,  but  to  make  the  breach  b^ween  Antony  and 
Csesar  complete,  she  begs  Antony  to  send  to  Csesar  the  boid  of  Anabases.  To  dni 
Antony  consents,  and  gives  orders  for  the  immediate  execntion  of  the  man  whoie 
life  was  one  of  Cscsar*s  ^)ecial  stipulations.     Thb  Scene  is,  I  think,  the  best  in  ^ 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— CASPER 


529 


play.  The  phraseology  is  less  stilted  and  the  style  less  turgid,  and  there  are  one  or 
two  touches  of  nature,  as  where  one  of  the  children  says  'just  let  him  have  a  helmet 
'  and  armour  and  he'll  show  them  how  to  Bght ' ;  and  another  says  that  '  he  would 

*  like  to  go  at  Caesar  with  steel  and  dagger.'  When  Cleopatra  is  left  alone  she  exults 
in  the  success  of  her  plans  thus  far,  but  must  proceed  with  caution ;  she  has  a 
secret  treaty  with  Caesar,  whereof  the  condition  is  Antony's  death ;  she  rehearses  the 
different  modes  of  killing  him  and  finally  she  adopts  the  plan  (herein  Casper  follows 
Dion  Cassius),  of  sending  word  of  her  death  to  Antony,  so  that  he  may  commit  sui- 
cide, as  she  is  sure  he  will.  In  the  Third  Act  Cleopatra  takes  Charmium  into  her 
confidence  and  instructs  her  that  as  soon  as  she  sees  her  mistress's  body  lying  asleep 
as  though  dead,  she  must  instantly  run  to  Antony  and  make  him  believe  that  the 
ai^Murent  death  is  real.  In  the  next  Scene  Qeopatra  summons  to  her  side  all  her 
attendants  and  makes  due  preparations  for  her  fictitious  death.  Before  beginning 
she  bids  them  all,  her  'dearest  sisters'  as  she  calls  them,  learn  from  her  example 
that  high  station  is  a  toil  and  a  burden  ;  '  no  thistle  pricks  as  severely  as  silk  and 

*  purple ;  a  sceptre  breaks  easier  than  glass ;  hardly  had  I  seen  the  light  of  day 
'  before  misery  hung  about  my  neck ;  I  had  more  wormwood  than  mother's  milk. 
'  Before  my  tongue  could  lisp  I  suffered  by  my  parent's  death,  and  my  brother's  hate.' 
She  b^s  her  attendants  not  to  dissuade  her,  but  rather  to  help  her  onward  in  that 
garden  path  where  she  can  engraft  her  life  on  posterity.  *  Bind  diamonds  in  my 
'  ringlets,  and  crown  my  heavenly  head  with  roses  and  narcissus ;  let  pearls  kiss  my 
'  bare  neck  ;  place  emeralds  on  my  arms  and  purple  on  my  shoulders,  so  that  I  can- 
'  not  fail  to  please  the  bridegroom.'     *  Whom  will  Cleopatra  wed  ? '  asks  Belisama. 

*  Death,'  is  the  reply,  *  whom  I  welcome  more  joyfully  than  when  I  entrusted  myself 
*to  Caesar  or  to  Antony.'  Her  directions,  strictly,  I  suppose,  in  accordance  with 
Egyptian  rites,  are  as  minute  as  they  are  tedious,  but  they  are  at  last  complete  and 
Cleopatra  takes  the  cup,  exclaiming  as  she  does  so,  *  O  nectar  of  our  life  I  Cordial  of 

*  our  soul !  O  sugar-sweet  poison  I     Happy  he,  who  through  thee  evades  all  misery ! 

*  Who,  under  this  image  of  death,  masks  his  highest  weal !     Charmium.  She  grows 

*  pale !    Iras.  Serene  Highness !    Charm.  She  is  speechless !    Sida.  She  has  the  death 

*  rattle !     Charm.  She  is  dying !     Babia.  Tear  off  her  clothes !     Belisama,  Alas  her 

*  pulse  is  stopped ! '  etc.  They  decide  to  send  word,  by  Eteocles,  at  once  to  Antony, 
who  in  the  meantime  is  passing  through  an  uncomfortable  ordeal.  After  he  had  fallen 
asleep  the  ghosts  of  Antigonus,  ArUbazes,  and  Jamblichus,  three  kings  whom  he  had 
caused  to  be  executed,  appear  and  curse  him.  He  awakes  in  afiright  and  in  a  frame 
of  mind  sufficiently  terror-stricken  to  receive  the  added  horror  of  Geopatn's  death, 
which  Eteocles  announces.  Antony  bewails  his  unhappy  lot,  and,  after  describing 
in  glowing  language  Ceopatra's  charms,  commands  Eros  to  kill  him.  Here  Casper 
follows  Plutarch's  account  of  Eros's  noble  self-sacrifice  and  Antony's  unsuccessful 
attempt  to  kill  himself.  Diomedes  enters  and  tells  Antony  that  Qeopatra' s  life 
has  been  saved  by  the  administration  of  antidotes.  Antony  begs  to  be  taken  to 
her.  On  his  arrival  Cleopatra  breaks  forth  in  lamentations  over  him,  over  her  lot, 
and  in  railings  against  Fate.  Antony  expresses  his  joy  in  having  her  lap  as  his 
demth-bed,  bids  her  bury  him  like  a  Ptolemy,  cease  her  lamenUtions,  which  will  dis- 
turb his  rest  in  the  grave,  and  force  him  to  wander  as  a  doleful  ghost  at  midnight, 
about  the  palace,  to  see  how  she  and  the  children  are  faring.  He  dies  finally  and 
Qeopatra  falls  fainting  on  his  body.  The  Fourth  Act  is  mainly  taken  up  with  dis- 
cussions by  Caesar  and  hi<5  friends  over  the  government  of  Alexandria  and  the  dis- 
posal of  Qeopatra.    Toward  the  close  Caesar  and  the  Queen  have  an  interview, 

34 


5^  APPENDIX 


Cjlspkk  follows  Dion  Cassias  as  Ikr  ss  concerns  the  di^klay  by  Qeopatra 
<jt  T«riH*  Cesar's  images  and  his  letters  to  her,  bat,  unlike  Dion  CassinSy  Aogastns 
«M»s  tifee  qaeen  in  hypocrisy  and  affects  to  be  desperately  enamoured  of  her,  calls 
^K  *-  finrest  queen '  and  promises  to  gire  her  not  only  her  kingdom,  her  sceptre,  her 
Mcdom,  bat  eren  more.  In  return,  Qeopatra  ofiers  her  heart  to  him  and  will  swear 
V  be  trae  and  faithful,  and  will  resign  the  key  to  her  treasore ;  she  declares  that  her 
is  without  guile  and  her  body  without  a  blemish.  Whereat  Augustus  asks  what 
woakl  not  then  become  wax,  what  ice  not  beoooie  sulphur,  and  adds  that  it  is  the 
powcrinl  magnet  of  Cleopatra's  beauty  that  draws  him.  This  emboldens  Qeopatra ; 
sDd  she  advises  him  to  *  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  his  youthful  prime ;  time  flies  like  an 
*•  amw ;  desire  is  but  a  shadow.  A  heart  that  will  not  yield  to  loTe  is  a  star  shrouded 
« in  doads,  a  jewel  under  water ;  of  what  use  is  the  ooial  that  is  ungathered  in  the 

*  sea  ?  On  the  other  hand,  what  delight  it  must  be,  to  one  who  is  a  great  lord  and 
*has  harvested  both  victory  and  the  fruits  of  love,  to  rest  his  half- exhausted  frame  on 

*  some  tender  breast,  and  to  be  quickened  by  the  sweet  dew  of  the  kisses  of  his  beloved 

*  one.'     Augustus  responds :  *  Thou  Venus  of  our  time,  thoa  sun  of  the  world,  whom 

*  my  enamoured  soul  accepts  as  an  idol,  Augustus  surreiKlers  to  thee,  he  exchanges 
'his  laurel  wreath  for  thy  myrtle  chaplet.     As  far  as  earth's  remotest  bound  thoa 

*  shalt  be  adored.     But,'  he  continues,  '  the  errors  of  others  should  teach  us  caution. 

<  Julius  Caesar  gained  hatred,  and  Antony  enemies  and  war,  because  they  showed  in 

*  Rome  the  wounds  received  from  Qeopatra's  love  before  they  showed  the  Romans 

*  Qeopatra  herself,  whose  beauty  would  have  converted  hate  into  idolatry.'  Hence 
it  follows  with  the  certainty  of  a  Q.  £,  D.  that  Cleopatra  must  go  to  Rome,  and  then 
the  way  will  be  smooth  for  her  to  marry  the  Emperor  of  the  World.  But  Qeopatra 
sees  the  snare,  and  evades  a  downright  refusal  to  go  to  Rome  by  begging  from 
Augustus  the  privilege,  before  she  leaves  for  that  city,  of  burying  Antony  according 
to  Egyptian  rites.  Caesar  accedes,  and  the  Act  closes.  The  Fifth  Act  opens  with 
Qeopatra's  busy  preparations  for  embalming  Antony.  '  Come,  dearest  sisters,'  she 
sa3rs  to  her  attendants,  <  come,  bring  to  him  a  true  offering  of  fidelity  and  the  last 
'  pledge  of  love.    Defile  your  bodies,  uncover  and  beat  your  breasts.    For  seven  dajs 

*  do  ix)t  wash  yourselves.  Wreathe  the  sarcophagus  with  ivy.  Put  on  sackcloth 
'  instead  of  silk.     Drink  no  wine,  only  water,  so  that  you  can  weep  abundantly.    Wet 

*  your  bread  and  scanty  food  with  tears.  Take  this  crooked  iron,  Iras,  and  drag  out 
'  Antony's  brains  through  his  nose,  and  pour  in  balsam.'  Iras  observes  that  Eteodes 
has  already  opened  the  body,  and  gives  in  detail  the  disposition  of  the  organs;  it  is 
hardly  worth  while  to  follow  the  steps  of  the  process,  which  are  probaUy  as  accurate 
as  they  are  certainly  repulsive  ;  they  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  edition  of  i66i,  but 
are  a  cheerful  addition  to  that  of  1680.  Cleopatra's  attendants  try  to  comfort  her  by 
dwelling  on  Caesar's  love,  but  she  hands  to  them  a  paper  that  she  had  found  among 
Antony's  effects,  in  Caesar's  handwriting,  wherein  Antony  is  instigated  to  murder 
her ;  and  also  shows  a  letter  from  Dolabella  setting  forth  Caesar's  intention  of  send- 
ing her  at  once  a  prisoner  to  Rome.  There  is  now  for  her  no  alternative ;  she  must 
take  her  fate  into  her  own  hands.  Antyllus,  the  oldest  son  of  Antony  and  Fnlria, 
enters  and  denounces  Cleopatra  as  an  '  accursed  sorceress !  a  bloodthirsty  Medea ' 
whom  he  would  incontinently  kill,  were  it  not  that  she  had  determined  to  kill  her- 
self.    Qeopatra  offers  him  a  sword  and  her  breast,  and  bids  him  *  Strike  !  Antyllus. 

*  Absurd  folly !  Cleopatra.  Strike !  Antyllus.  I  would,  but  I  cannot  Clcop.  I 
'  will  accept  the  stroke  and  death  as  a  kindness.     Antyll.  Blood  so  black  shall  never 

<  stain  my  hands.     Cleop,  Then  let  me  uncursed  die,  Antyllus.     AntylL  Deserved 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— SEDLEY 


531 


*  or  nndesenred,  IMl  cast  no  stone  npon  thy  graye.  Cleop,  Then  joyfully  I  die.' 
Cleopatra  writes  a  letter  to  Caesar  begging  him  to  let  her  lie  by  Antony's  side.  Iras 
and  Charmium  avow  their  determination  to  share  their  mistress's  fate,  but  she  endeav- 
ours to  dissuade  them, — ^wherefore  should  Csesar  treat  them  hazBhly  ?  who  else  would 
see  that  she  was  befittingly  buried  ?  <  Believe  me,'  she  says,  '  if  you  die  for  fear, 
'  you  do  not  show  your  love  for  me  as  much  as  you  would  if  you  waited  in  order  to 
'  perform  the  last  sad  rites  for  me.'  Cleopatra  removes  the  leaves  in  the  basket  of 
figsand  shows  the  aspics.    <  Charmium,  Ye  gods !  and  is  that  horrid  thing  to  strike 

*  poison  into  your  lily-white  arm  ?  Chop,  Yes,  to  lift  the  gates  of  the  body  to  our 
'  lofty  soul.'  Diomedes,  to  hearten  them  all,  applies  an  aspic  to  his  own  arm  and 
falls  dead. 

'  Cleop,     The  faithful  knave  wins  fame  and  teaches  us  how  easy  'tis  to  die. 

Behamina,  The  asp  that  killed  the  Jcnave  so  swiftly  will  not  sting  Qeopatra ; 
Fate,  perchance,  witholds  its  fang. 

Chop,  Suggest  not  such  a  thing  for  me.  It  will  not  touch  my  arm !  'Tie  thirsty 
for  my  breast  Here !  because,  for  all  my  sins,  I  merit  death,  now  sting  !  suck  poison 
there  where  many  a  rosy  mouth  sucked  milk  and  honey.  It  stings !  I'm  wounded ! 
Already  am  I  faint  and  drowsy.  Come,  dearest,  and  take  ^m  me  the  last  fond 
kiss.  [Dies, 

Salambo,    She  shivers !  she  sleeps !  she's  dead  ! ' 

Iras  also  applies  the  asp  and  dies,  as  does  also  Charmium  after  she  has  filled  with 
flowers  the  hands  of  her  dead  mistress. 

The  tragedy  continues  for  nearly  five  hundred  lines  more.  To  the  five  corpses 
on  the  stage :  Antony,  Cleopatra,  Iras,  Charmium,  Diomedes, — Antyllus  is  added. 
As  in  Dion  Cassius,  the  Fsylli  are  summoned  in  vain. 

Casper's  Noies^  wherein  he  gives  his  authority  for  his  Egyptian  references,  are 
almost  as  voluminous  as  his  text. 

In  1677  a  rhymed  dramatic  version  of  the  story  appeared  with  the  following  title : 

*  Antony  |  and  |  Qeopatra :  |  A  |  Tragedy.  |  As  it  is  acted  at  the  DincES  |  Theatre. 
<  I  Written  by  the  Honourable  |  Sir  Charles  Sedlky,  Baronet.  |  Licensed  Apr.  24. 

*  1677.     Roger  V  Estrange,  \  London,  |  Printed  for  Richard  Tonson  at  his  Shop 

*  under  |  GrayeS'Innt-gate  next  Grayes-Inne-iane,  \  MDCLXXVII.'  (I  have  another 
copy  dated  1696,  but  it  is  merely  a  reprint.)  Among  the  *  Persons  represented' 
Antony  was  Mr  Betterton  ;  Oesar^  Mr  Smith  ;  Cleopettra,  Mrs  Mary  Lee ;  Octavia^ 
Mrs  Betterton ;  Iras^  Mrs  Gibbs;  Charmion^  Mrs  Hughes.  In  the  Reprint  of  1696 
the  same  parts  are  assumed  by  the  same  actors.  Of  this  play  Sir  Walter  Scott  said 
that  he  had  read  it  once  and  would  '  assuredly  not  read  it  a  second  time,' — a  resolve 
which,  I  think,  all  will  share,  and  include  in  it  even  the  following  brief  synopsis : 

When  the  first  Scene  opens,  the  battle  of  Actium  has  taken  place  and  Maecenas 
urges  Octavius  to  prosecute  the  war  vigorously  against  Antony;  Octavius  acquiesces  for 
policy's  sake  and  for  Octavia's.  In  the  next  Scene  two  Egyptian  lords  determine  to 
plot  against  Antony  in  order  to  free  Cleopatra  and  their  country.  Antony  enters 
and  decidedly  shows  the  white  feather.  He  tells  Canidius  to  g^  out  and  fight  the 
Romans,  while  he  remains  within  the  walls  and  takes  care  of  Cleopatra ;  but  when 
Cleopatra  enters,  her  warlike  spirit  inspires  him  and  the  Act  closes  with  Cleopatra's 
declaration  that  her  '  heart  can  danger  though  not  absence  bear,  To  Love,  'tis  Wax, 
*but  Adamant  to  Fear.'     Antony  chivalrously  responds,  *Mine  has  such  Courage 

*  from  your  Firmness  took.  That  I  can  almost  bear  a  parting  look.'     In  Act  II.  it 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— SEDLEY 


533 


Fhotinas  enters,  crying, 

'  Horror  on  horror  I  Sir,  th'  unhappy  Queen 
Betray'd  by  a  report  that  you  were  slain  ! 

Ani,     I  understand  you,  she  herself  has  kill'd 
And  better  knew  to  die,  than  how  to  yield. 

Phoi,     Alas  I  she  has,  I  puird  the  reeking  steel 
From  her  warm  wound,  and  with  it  rusht  her  life — 
Her  latest  breath  was  busie  with  your  name. 
And  the  sweet  pledges  of  your  mutual  flame : 
Your  children  she  embrac't,  and  then  she  died. 

Ani.     How  well  had  I  been  with  great  Julius  slain, 
Or  by  some  flying  Parthian*  s  darted  cane/ 
Antony  then  resolves  to  kill  himself,  so  as  to  <  let  Romans  now  each  other  love, 
'  Their  tedious  quarrel  I  will  soon  remove/     He  requests  Lucilius  to  kill  him,  but 
Lncilins  passes  the  weapon  through  his  own  body.     Antony  remarks, 
'  The  noblest  way :  thou  show'st  me  what  to  do. 
Thou  giv'st  th'  example,  and  Tie  give  the  blow.' 
He  thereupon  ineflfectually  stabs  himself,  and  observes  to  Photinus, 

*  Thou  can*  St  not  now  my  fatal  journey  stay. 

Phot.     Nor  would  I,  Sir,  jrou'r  fairly  on  your  way. 

Ani,    Death  soon  will  place  me  out  of  fortunes  reach ; 
Why  stays  my  soul  to  sally  at  this  breach  ? 

Phoi.     It  is  not  big  enough. 

Ani,     Do'st  mock  me  now  ? 
Can  my  few  minutes  a  new^  torture  know — 

Phot.     They  may,  and  to  provoke  thy  parting  soul, 
Know  that  the  Queen  yet  lives,  thou  loving  fool. 
And  I  the  story  of  her  death  contriv'd, 
To  make  thee  kill  thyself,  which  has  arrived 
Just  as  I  wish't ;  by  thy  own  hand  thou  dy*8t. 
And  art  at  once  the  victim  and  the  priest 

Ant,     Furies  and  Hell 

Phot,     Curse  on ;  but  Caesar  shall 
With  Egypt's  sceptre  thank  me  for  thy  fall.'  .  .  . 
(This  is  really  the  best  Scene,  I  think,  in  the  play.)     Charmion  and  Iras  enter 
and  reveal  to  Antony  that  Qeopatra  is  alive  in  her  Monument,  where 

*  All  she  holds  dear  she  has  throng'd  there,  but  yon. 
And  now  intreats  that  you  will  enter  too.' 

Antony  is  not  so  far  dead  but  that  he  manages  to  walk  off  to  the  Moooment. 
Caesar  and  his  friends  enter,  as  does  also  Photinus  with  Anton3r's  sword,  but  he  is 
received  with  suspicion.  A  servant  enters  and  announces  that  Octavia  is  '  past  all 
'  human  grief  and  care.' 

'  Ots.     She  is  not  dead. 
Strv,     Yes,  in  her  way  to  Rome, 
Of  grief  and  discontent,  as  we  presume,     [Italics  mine. — Ed.] 

Cas,     Ye  joyes  of  victory,  a  while  forbear, 
I  must  on  my  Octavia  drop  a  tear.'  .  .  . 
The  Scene  changes  to  the  Monument  and  Enter  Antonius,  Qeopatra,  Charmion, 
and  Iras. 


534 


APPENDIX 


<  Am.  'Twu  I  Ihat  pull'd  on  yon  the  tul 
Aod  all  your  ills  pul,  prcscDI  and  to  come. 
It  is  Dot  fit  nor  possible  I  liie. 
And  my  dear  Queeo,  it  giowcs  unltiad  lo  g 
Anlony  wliiaes  Cleopatn  to  submit  to  Caesir,  who 
Ihat  her  beauty  and  bis  love  were  all  ber  crime. 

'  A»l.  But  you  may  li»e  a  Queen ;  »y  y( 
Through  tear  ;  and  were  compell'd  to  gite 
Say,  that  at  last  you  did  my  death  procure  \ 
Say  anjnhiDg  that  may  your  life  and  ctowd 
Aolooy  dies  exclaiiDing, 

'  O  Rome  !  thy  freedom  does  with  me  expire 
And  ihou  art  lost,  obtainiog  thy  desire. 

CU^,  He's  goDc  \  he's  gone  I  and  I  fa 
The  great  Anlouius  now  is  but  a  ghost : 
A  iTaDd'ring  shadow  on  the  Stygian  Coast.' 
Cleopatra  masters  her  overwhelming  grief  long  euou 
lines  the  fleeliog  frailly  of  beauty,  and  its  imrealiiy ;  ai 
'  In  yonder  golden  box  three  asps  there  lie. 
Take  one  and  to  my  naked  breast  apply 

Its  poisonous  mouth ' 

Chaimion  obeys  ;  the  asp  '  stii^  her ' ;  she  says 
kneeling  by  Antony's  corpse,  exclaims, 

'  Good  asp  bile  deep  and  deadly  in  my  breai 
And  giTe  me  sudden  and  eternal  rest. 
Charm.     Pool,  from  thy  hasty  Fate  thou 
Iras.     Let  it  bite  you,  I'le  slay  dll  you  li 

Alas  I  my  life  but  newly  is  begun 

Charm.     No  ;  tiiou  would'st  lire  lo  sbai 

But  rie  take  care  thai  (bou  sbalt  nobly  die. 

Irat.     Good  CharmioD  ! 

Charm.     V  le  hear  no  more :  faint  heaila 

Will  never  want  some  foolish  thiikg  to  say. 

At  our  Queen's  feet  let's  decently  be  found, 

And  loyal  grief  be  thought  our  only  wotmd 

Oeiat  and  his  train  enter,  after  baTing  battered  d 

express  horrtir  at  the  sight  of  the  corpses.     Photinui 

dyii%  breath  reproaches  him  for  not  havini;  made  h 

should  further  reveal  his  treachery,  he  stabs  her,  and 

who  says  he  is  Iras's  brother,     Czsar  wonders  what  A 

a  brother  wbo  owed  to  him  all  his  honoois,  and  assc 

godlike  pleasure  to  have  shared  the  empire  again  with 

of  everything,  Agrippa  announces  that  ClFOjalra  bad  I 

'to  vile  ashes.'  and  had  turned   'her  fair  person  to  * 

after  Cxsar  has  uttered  Ihe  lolemn  warning  to  us  all,  t1 

'  Great  minds  the  Gods  alone  can  overcome- 

Lel  no  man  with  his  present  Fortune  swell. 

The  fale  of  growing  empire  who  can  tetl  ? 

We  stand  but  on  the  greatness  whence  Ihei 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^DE  LA   CHAPELLE  535 

Genkst  (i,  208)  remarks  that  S^^ile7  (*for  so  he  then  wrote  his  name')  seems 
to  have  written  the  *  part  of  Photinus,  an  intriguing  statesman  and  great  villain,  pur- 

*  posely  for  Sandford.' 

In  1682  there  was  published  in  Paris,  CtEOPATREpar  Mr  De  la  Chapelle.  The 
character  of  Cleopatra  is  here  drawn  with  bolder  strokes  than  in  either  Jodelle  (if 
we  omit  the  Scene  with  Seleucus)  or  Garnier.  On  one  occasion,  when  Antony  con- 
fesses that  he  is  about  to  desert  her,  there  is  an  outburst  of  hot  indignation  in  which 
she  calls  him  *  barbare,'  and  threatens  him  with  an  undivulged  cruel  retaliation,  before 
which  the  Roman  quails.  Unfortunately,  I  cannot  say  that  this  character  is  fully 
sustained.  Possibly,  it  was  the  author's  intention,  but  certain  it  is  that  before  the 
drama  closes  Cleopatra  is  subdued  to  a  dove-like  meekness  in  her  utter  subjection 
to  love  for  Antony.  Octavia  takes  a  prominent  part  in  the  drama ;  her  devotion  to 
Antony  is  so  unbounded  that  it  includes  even  Cleopatra,  and  she  vainly  struggles  to 
save  them  both. 

The  Scene  opens  after  the  battle  of  Actium ;  throughout  the  First  Act  Cleopatra 
does  not,  and  will  not  appear.  She  is  so  overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the  ruin  and 
disgrace  she  has  brought  on  Antony  that  she  refuses  to  see  him.  This  seclusion  is 
Octavia's  opportunity,  and  while  Antony  is  chafing  under  the  absence  of  his  queen, 
his  wife  presents  herself  to  him  and  adjures  him  for  his  own  sake  and  for  their  chil- 
dren's to  return  to  Rome  and  placate  the  Senate.  Her  success  is  such  that  Antony 
demands  time  to  think  it  over.  The  Second  Act  shows  us  Cleopatra  brooding  over 
the  fear  that  Antony  is  about  to  desert  her,  and  over  his  changed  demeanour,  which 
is  very  different  from  his  tender  forgiveness  after  her  flight  at  Actium,  where 
*  II  vit  que  je  fuyois,  son  ame  en  ffit  atteinte, 
Et  1'  amour  fit  en  luy  ce  qu'en  moy  fit  la  crainte,' 
and  when  he  swore  endless  vows  of  eternal  fidelity.  And  here  occurs  a  touch  of 
nature,  trifling  to  be  sure,  but  refreshing  amid  so  much  moralising :  Cleopatra  had 
sent  Iras  to  the  harbour  to  learn  what  she  could  of  Antony's  movements,  and  had 
not  yet  returned ;  hereupon,  Cleopatra  declares  that  Iras  knows  how  impatient  she 
is  for  news  and  yet  takes  not  the  smallest  pains  to  hurry ;  it  is  only  too  clear  that 
nobody  cares  for  her  or  her  misfortunes,  and  that  she  must  weep  all  alone ;  everybody 
had  abandoned  her.  At  that  very  instant  Iras  enters.  She  reports  that  Antony  is 
about  to  leave  Alexandria  and  Cleopatra  for  ever,  and  that  on  this  condition  peace  had 
been  made  with  Rome.  She  also  reports  that  Octavia  is  in  the  palace  and  waiting  to 
see  Cleopatra.  Octavia  enters  and  implores  Cleopatra,  by  her  very  love  for  Antony, 
to  force  him  to  return  to  Rome,  to  his  honour,  and  to  his  power,  and  that  by  so  doing 
she  will  convert  the  hatred  of  the  Romans  into  admiration,  and  secure  her  own  throne. 
Cleopatra  replies  that  her  advice  to  Antony  would  be  to  die  rather  than  return  to 
Rome,  only  to  be  shorn  of  his  power  like  poor  Lepidus.  Octavia  asks  how  Qeo- 
patra,  in  case  there  should  be  more  fighting,  would  bear  the  news  of  Anton3r's  death. 
'  Like  a  Queen,'  Cleopatra  replies,  *  A  thousand  famous  examples,  of  which  your 
'  Roman  history,  Madame,  b  full,  will  give  me  the  aid  of  a  noble  despair  in  ending 

*  my  sad  days.     You  will  never  see  me,  like  a  dastard,  disgrace  the  hundred  kings 
'  from  whom  I  am  descended.     Maugre  Rome  and  maugre  the  angry  Fates  I  shall 

*  know  how  to  rejoin  the  manes  of  a  husband.'     Octavia  ends  the  interview  by  say- 

*  ing  that  she  will  depart,  <  but,  Madame,  in  spite  of  you,  in  spite  of  him,  I  will  today 
•save  you  both.' 

Antony  enters  and  pleads  with  Qeopatra  that  it  is  necessary  that  he  should  sub- 


•-ja  APPESDIX 


iMt  'JU  Octsvins  «ni  decmt  tor  Rome  in  order  to  satc  lier  from  forUier  indignities  and 
6Mm  i«»n^  TsckSeil  in  Caesar's  trimnphal  pcocession.  Qeopatra  sees  through  this 
$|MC«iu^  7Qa:iKniia(y  mod  rises  to  tragic  grandeor  as  she  denounces  his  perfidy,  and 
T^ate»  ^fe}^  3cr  his  sake  she  had  ruined  her  kingdom,  and  had  been  dishonoured 
thivM^eiuid:  ^e  worid  by  his  fatal  love,  but  she  ao  longer  retains  him,  and  bids  him 
M  :u  0«:&ivis&,  become  his  slave  ;  *  Go,  brighten  his  court !  I  too  will  be  present ! 
*  getaag*  yoa  vill  find  me  more  cruel  than  pleasant ! ' 

I\ese  parting  words  alarm  Antony  with  their  veiled  threat,  and  he  resolves  that 
b«  wiH  try  to  thwart  her  insidious  plans.  In  a  Scau  with  Agrippa,  Caesar's  ambassa- 
dur»  Octavia  renews  her  vow  that  she  will  remain  near  Antony  in  war  or  in  peace ; 
sad  reasserts  her  determination  to  share  Cleopatra's  late  and  to  save  both  her  and 
Ancooy.  Octavia  retires;  Qeopatra  enten  and  makes  full  submission  to  Csesar 
aai  to  Rome.  Antony  enters  unexpectedly  and  tells  Agrippa  that  his  treaty  of  peace 
with  Caesar  is  broken  off,  that  there  must  now  be  war,  and  that  he  casts  in  his  lot 
with  Qeopatra.  Agrippa,  astounded,  retires;  Qeopatra' s  anger,  mingled  with  jeal- 
ousy, has  no  whit  cooled  ;  she  treats  Antony  at  first  with  the  utmost  disdain.  He 
accuses  her  of  ingratitude.  She  asks  if  she  b  to  remain  for  ever  trembling,  and  for 
ever  accused,  exposed  to  the  violence  and  jealous  transpotts  of  an  enraged  barbarian ; 
she  sees  his  design  to  drive  her  away  and  she  will  at  once  gratify  him.  He  implores 
her  to  remain  and  swears  that  his  only  thought  has  been  to  protect  her  and  her  chil- 
dren in  case  of  his  death.  This  touches  Qeopatra  and  she  yields.  Without  him, 
she  confesses,  she  would  not  care  to  live,  and  at  this  very  moment  her  dearest  wish 
is  to  see  him  happy  and  to  die  for  him.  Antony  then  renews  his  vows  of  love,  and 
describes  the  great  deeds  he  is  about  to  perform  in  the  war.  At  this  moment  word 
is  brought  to  him  that  the  Romans  are  everywhere  victorious  and  that  his  presence 
is  needed  in  the  camp.  Antony  takes  a  touching  farewell  of  Qeopatra,  and  adjures 
her  to  preserve  the  memory  of  his  faithful  love.     But 

<  Before  my  brave  army  I  must  be  calm 
And  hide  all  my  trouble. — So  adieu,  Madame.  [ExiL 

Cleopatra,     Dieux  1  if  today,  Death  should  humble  his  pride  ! 
I'll  follow  him  swiftly,  and  die  by  his  side ! ' 

In  the  next  Scene  Qeopatra  is  alone,  and  horror-stmck  at  the  thought  that  even  at 
that  veiy  moment  Antony's  head  may  have  been  brought  to  Csesar. 

'  My  glorious  spouse  [Epimx]  ! '  she  cries,  *  'twas  my  fatal  love, — 
That  sent  thee  too  soon  to  mansions  above. 
'Twas  I  who  deprived  thee  of  crown  and  of  light ! 
I  will  follow  thee,  dearest,  in  fortune's  despite  ! ' 

While  the  battle  is  going  on  and  Qeopatra  is  in  the  extremity  of  fear  and  alarm, 
Octavia  appears  and  asserts  that  she  is  come  to  share  Cleopatra's  fate.  Qeopatra  is 
not  cordial,  and  remarks  that  the  combat  is  not  yet  decided.  But  at  that  instant 
Charmion  hurries  in  and  announces  that  all  is  lost,  Caesar's  victorious  troops  are 
already  in  the  city.  Thereupon  Qeopatra  hastens  to  her  Monument.  Antony 
returns  defeated,  disgraced,  and  in  despair,  seeking  Qeopatra,  whom  alone  he 
wishes  to  see. 

Octavia  is  warned  that  her  husband  is  bent  on  suicide,  and  is  seeking  Qeopatra  to 
bid  her  farewell.  Octavia's  excellent  character  rises  to  the  occasion.  After  all  the 
misfortunes  which  the  queen  has  caused  her,  she  says  that  were  she  herself  not  a 
Roman  she  could  hate  her,  but. 


DRAMA  TIC  VERSIONS— DE  LA  CHAPELLE 


537 


'  These  jealous  stirrings  and  these  moital  quarrels, 

Which  lacerate  the  heart  of  vulgar  lovers, 

Awake  in  mine  no  thought  to  stain  my  glory. 

What  if,  for  her,  my  love  has  been  disdained, 

Unhappy  is  she,  and,  like  me,  a  woman. 

I'll  seek  my  brother,  and  assure  my  spouse 

That  Roman  hearts  cannot  withstand  my  tears.' — p.  48. 
Word  is  brought  to  Antony  that  Cleopatra  had  taken  refuge  in  her  Monument, 
which  had  been  attacked  by  Roman  soldiers  to  whom  Charmion  had  thrown  out  some 
treasures  and  with  tears  had  announced  Cleopatra's  death,  whereat  even  the  rough 
soldiers  were  touched  and  retired.  Antony's  attempted  suicide  follows,  as  in  Plu- 
tarch ;  he  learns  from  Iras  that  the  queen  still  lives.  The  way  in  which  Antony  was 
carried  to  the  Monument,  and,  by  the  scarves  and  veils  which  Charmion  had  twisted 
into  ropes,  was  pulled  up  by  Cleopatra  and  her  women,  is  described  to  Octavia.  In 
the  last  Scene  Cleopatra  tells  Caesar's  ambassador  that  she  now  surrenders  herself; 
she  has  left  the  Monument  where  the  inhuman  Gods  had  just  snatched  from  her  the 
greatest  of  all  the  Romans ;  she  had  closed  the  lids  over  his  eyes,  all  stained  with 
blood  and  dust.    *  It  is  I,'  she  cries,  <  who  killed  him.    Too  great  a  solicitude  for  my 

*  life  has  cost  me  my  life.  The  deplorable  state  in  which  his  loss  has  left  me, — ^these 
'  veils  stained  with  blood,  his  last  sighs  breathed  out  in  my  arms,  and  my  own  sorrows, 
'  all  demand  my  death.  If  I  defer  it  for  a  few  minutes,  'tis  to  ask  of  Caesar  only  one 
'  favour,  and  Caesar  must  remember  that  to  me  is  really  due  his  glory,  which  he  would 

*  never  have  attained  had  not  Antony  been  blinded  by  his  fatal  love  for  me.  This 
'  fatal  love  the  gods  sent  to  his  breast.  The  Senate  exiled  him, — and  I  did  all  the  rest.' 

The  favour  which  she  asks  is  that  such  funeral  honours  as  are  beyond  her  power 
may  be  given  to  Antony.  She  does  not  desire  any  proud  mortuary  pomp,  which 
may  attempt  to  repair  the  ignominy  of  his  ending ; 

'  'Tis  ample  that  his  Shade  obtains  repose. 
And  that  a  little  mound  of  heaped-up  earth. 
May  prove  an  all-sufiicing  monument. 
In  honour  of  his  sacred  memory.' 
Agrippa  begs  her  to  relinquish  all  thoughts  of  dying,  assures  her  that  Caesar  recog- 
nises her  virtues,  and  laments  her  misfortune ;  but  she  replies, 
*  From  cares  like  these,  has  Fate  deliver'd  me, 
Some  minutes  now  are  all  I  have  to  live. 
Agrippa,     What  say  you,  Madame  ? 
Cleopatra,  'Tis  already  done,  Agrippa, 

The  poison  I  have  taken  ends  its  work. 
If  any  pity  for  me  stirs  you  now, 
Permit  no  severance  twixt  my  spouse  and  me. 
But  in  one  tomb,  pray,  let  us  both  be  laid. 
'Tis  there — 'tis  there,  the  summit  of  my  wishes ! 
Dear  spouse !  receive  me  in  the  gloomy  realm. 
Where  love,  I  pray,  may  reunite  our  Shades. 
There's  nought  that  now  appears  so  sad  to  me 
As  moments  when  I  was  not  by  your  side.* 
Sustain  me,  Charmion,  my  strength  is  going. 

*  This  awakens  an  uncomfortable  suspicion  that  the  Egyptian  queen  had  been 
lately  reading  her  Jodelle,  or  her  Gamier. 


538  APPENDIX 

Agrippa.     I  griere ;  admire ;  her  Tiitiie  astnawds 
Madame 


Cltopatra,  The  poisoo  pats  forth  doable  strength. 

A  deaihlikc  chill  is  creeping  throagh  mj  fintaae. 
Idie! 

Iras.     O  cruel  fortnoe !     She  is  dead ! 

Agrippa^     O  heavens !     IH  bear  at  once  the  nevs  Cd 
Here  ends  the  Tragedy. 


*  Antoins  €t  CLiOPATHE,  TraghHe.  ReprdmUe  pomr  U  pramUrt  fan  xar  k 
TTUmtre  de  U  C^mUdU  FroHfoise^  U  6.  Xacewt^re  1741.  Pjois^  BCDCCXUTT.* 
So  runs  the  title  of  a  play  which  the  Dtduaiory  EpistU  iiifcwur»  as  mas  viiOua  bf 
*BoiSTKL.'  (  From  his  collected  ffWij  we  leam  that  his  fidlnwae  is  J.  B.Ro«aT 
Boism.  lyWELixs.)  This  versioa  is,  it  appears  to  me*  of 
tnteresL  The  author's  concepdoa  of  both  Antooy  and  QcopatB  is  whoQy 
Antooy's  tore  for  Cleopatra  soficrs  only  ooe  mrwnrnrary  ecGpse,  and  then  he  at 
lecums  himselfy  and,  with  a  strength  unknown  anvng  other  Aitfonif%  dafe 
all  possibility  of  a  rdapse  by  proclaiming  to  his  army  diat  Cleopatca  is  his 
Qeopatra  is  a  tmly  pathetic  figure.  She  makes  a  firm  stand  against  Fate, 
coonsdling  Antony  to  attack  and  conqner  Rome^  Bat  when  idie  finds  thnt  Fate  is 
too  strong  for  her,  she  adjures  Antony  to  desert  her,  the  casse  of  all  his  mtsfortnaes; 
when  he  refuses,  she  retires  to  the  Pyramids  and  there  <fies ;  how  ^^  finds  death  we 
are  not  told.  This  Texsion  comes  nearer  than  any  other  Id  caaoniaxng  Clmplin. 
Octaria  does  not  appear  in  the  play.  Her  place,  as  a  repiesenfiatrve  of  Anicmy's 
home-ties^  is  taken  by  Julius^  a  son  of  Antony  and  herael£  FtoiB  what  we  are  tofal 
during  the  first  few  Scenes,  we  lenm  that  after  die  bottie  of  AcTium,  Antosj 
rated  ^«™*^*'  from  Qeopatra  and,  in  a  deosrve  bottle,  vancfBiriied 
nctncioiss  mnrdi  to  Rome  was  recalled  to  Egypt  by  a  revolt  in  his 
has  followed  tmn,  and  here  in  Alexandria  appointed  an  interriew  fi 
of  the  peace  demanded  by  the  soldiers,  and  has  designated^  as  the  spot  where  it  ii 
to  take  place,  the  royal  tombs  of  the  kings  of  Egypt,  where  Clcopatia  has  kept  her- 
self scdnded  erer  since  her  dxsgracefol  fight  at  Actxum.  It  b  intimated  that  the 
wily  Caesar  has  selected  this  spot  in  the  hope  that  Antony-,  who  b  ignutant  of  Qeo- 
patza*s  pfcsence  there,  m^  again  meet  the  Egyptian  (^kcb,  and  again 
thnIL  The  plot  socoeeds,  Anboay  again  meets  Cleopatra,  and  they 
vows  of  eteTttJ  Love.  When  Cleopatra  leanWi  however,  that  CarwH*  is  comirg  hither 
far  a  ooofierence,  she  s  terrified  lest,  as  she  teQs  Antmy,  her  eyes  shnolii  behold 
*  A  second  Actium  on  this  hxal  spot. 

Yoor  foe  hates  you,  ami  me  aH  Rome  abhors^ 

While  you  love  me  what  is  ^ere  I  need  fiear? 

I  hear  a  noise.     I  yield  to  dn^'s  calL 

Tis  donbdcss  Cosar ;  go«  my  lord,  and  meet 

And  trust  that  I,  most  foithful  to  your  love, 

Wm  chfTTsh  thoughts  of  you  to  my  hfe's 

If  ever  I  was  worthr  oS.  vour  love 

Do  voa  here  show  that  vou  are  worthr  mi 


By  flying  hence,  and  making  peace  with  Caesm.* — pL  15. 
Thos  cfcMes  the   Fxnt  Act,      In  die  next  the  Tiiumviis  meet  for 
Anh.my  is  the  magnanimaa^  open-heazted  patiait,  who  wonhl  gjhre  Qber^  to  ^L  anl 


DRAMA  TIC  VERSIONS— BO ISTEL 


539 


to  each  a  chance  to  live.  Csesar  is  the  wily,  selfish  politician.  They  agree  to  divide 
the  world  between  them,  but  Csesar  requires  some  assurance  that  the  glory  of  Rome 
will  not  be  tarnished,  nor  his  sister  live  in  contempt,  throogh  Antony's  connection 
with  Cleopatra.  Accordingly,  he  demands  that  the  Egyptian  queen  shall  either  take 
a  husband  of  his  choosing,  or  be  delivered  as  a  hostage  to  Rome.  Antony  blazes 
into  fury  at  the  thought  of  either  alternative.  The  conference  ends  with  his  defiance 
of  Caesar.  In  the  next  Scene^  Qeopatra  counsels  Antony  to  send  her  to  Rome  and 
then  win  her  back  by  conquering  the  city, — a  plan  which  he  scouts,  but  waxes 
enthusiastic  over  the  wonderful  military  genius  it  displays.  In  the  next  Acty  Julius, 
Antony's  son,  unrecognized  by  his  father,  is  presented  to  Antony  by  Eros  as  the 
son  of  Ventidius.  Julius  describes  the  bitter  grief  with  which  Octavia  mourns 
Antony's  desertion;  Antony  listens  at  first  with  coldness,  but  is  finally  touched; 
when  Julius  informs  him  that  Octavia  is  close  at  hand,  and,  throwing  himself  at 
his  father's  feet,  reveals  his  identity,  Antony  breaks  down  and  bids  him  bring  his 
mother  and  he  will  be  reconciled  to  her.  But  as  soon  as  he  is  alone  and  calm,  he 
sees  to  what  a  frightful  pass  his  promise  to  Julius  has  brought  him, — nothing  less  than 
a  reconciliation  with  Rome  and  an  abandonment  of  Cleopatra.  He  resolves  that  he 
will  seek  out  Octavius,  and  by  a  sudden  oath  extricate  himself  from  the  horror  of  his 
situation.  Cleopatra  enters.  To  her,  he  recounts  his  misery  and  his  remorse,  and 
says  that  he  will  fly  to  where  she  is  not,  or  whithersoever  death  will  guide  his  steps. 
Qeopatra  counsels  him  to  obey  necessity,  and  shows  that  even  greater  trouble  is  at 
hand ;  Csesar  is  inciting  Antony's  soldiers  to  revolt  by  disseminating  among  them  let- 
ters wherein  they  are  exhorted  either  to  surrender  Cleopatra  to  him  or  to  destroy  the 
beauty  which  Antony  still  adores.  Qeopatra  asserts  that,  as  she  is  the  only  cause 
of  discord,  it  behooves  her  to  fly  to  some  distant  land,  abandoning  her  coontry  and 
resigning  her  diadem,  convinced  that — 

'  If  thou  wert  happy,  I  should  soon  forget  them. 
In  every  danger,  will  sweet  thoughts  of  thee 
Make  good  the  loss  of  honour,  throne,  and  home.' — p.  39. 
Antony  seeks  out  Octavius  to  give  him  his  final  answer;  he  will  not  confide  Qeo- 
patra to  him ;  she  shall  remain  his  until  death ;  he  repudiates  Octavia,  she  is  of 
Cscsar's  blood.     He  turns  to  the  assembled  Egyptians  and  Romans  and  exclaims : 

*  Cleopatra,  it  is  true,  was  born  a  queen. 
But  'tis  in  her  the  only  fault  I've  found. 
And  if  you  think  it  does  impute  disgrace. 
Remember  it  was  Fate.     I  can  repair  it : 
No  more,  Egyptians,  do  you  have  a  queen ! 

Here,  Romans,  stands  my  wife,  your  sovereign  lady ! ' — ^p.  41. 
He  defies  Csesar,  and  Rome,  which  he  will  one  day  force  to  bend  the  knee  before 
a  woman.  Cleopatra  meets  Julius,  not  knowing  at  first  that  he  is  Anton3r's  son,  and 
begs  him,  as  a  friend  to  Antony,  to  persuade  the  latter  to  return  to  his  duty.  Julius 
mistrusts  her  and  reveals  himself.  Antony  enters.  Cleopatra  begs  him  to  withdraw 
the  empty  title  of  wife  which  he  had  given  her  before  his  army, 

*  Thou  hast  deceived  me,  Antony ;  my  just  alarm 
Demands  the  motive  for  this  empty  title. 

But  time  is  short,  I'll  spare  thee  all  complaint 
Today,  thy  duty  summons  thee  to  say — 
Which  of  the  two  shall  now  prevail  with  thee, 
The  tie  of  blood^or  love,  thy  son^or  I  ? 


540 


APPENDIX 


*  Bat,  be  it  either  son,  or  be  it  lored  cue. 
Go  vith  me  to  thj  araj,  and  mj  wish  fiililL 
Cone  !  I  mnst  there  resign  into  th  j  kaads 
This  hooocr  which  excxtes  thr  Rcodms*  ire. 
TaoQ  know*  St  bow  demdlr,  ire  like  this  mar 
Imagine  This  to  be  thj  so^e  resocire. 
Alt  silent  ?  Wbat !  mnst  thv  soo  bissk  far  &ee? 
Or  in  thj  beait  can  k>re  do  nnrhmg  OKxe 
Than  here  refnse  me  what  bt  bps  impiore. 
And  Vaad  me  down  widi  gifts  tkn  I 
Ja^S^  o^  thj  plighit,  wbea  hoe  tbc« 
In  the  same  hope,  Oc<^Mtia  aad  ikr 

is  obdmaie,  be  has  done  what  be  befirved  to  be 


fates  of  dK  taad> 
*BntiC  at  ^isoost,  dkon  wik  boC  beed  mr 


• » 


The  /»«*  AiS  c 


r^  «iac  I  carid.  I 


a£bE 


M< 


rc^s  T 


of  CtJ^^jt 


DRAMA  TIC  VERSIONS— MARMONTEL 


S4I 


*  ordinaires  du  Roi  le  20.  Mai,  1 750.'  The  author  was  but  twenty-seven  years  old, 
and  his  tragedy  bears  the  marks  of  youth  in  everything  but  in  its  lack  of  fire.  It 
is  cold,  spiritless,  timid,  and  insincere,  with  little  discrimination  of  character.  His- 
tory, except  in  extremely  meagre  outlines,  is  disregarded.  Indeed,  it  is  difficult  to 
believe  that  the  dramatist  had  ever  read  Plutarch  or  Dion  Cassius,  but,  as  far  as 
Ventidius  is  concerned,  it  seems  as  though  he  must  have  read  Dryden.  Octavia  does 
not  appear  among  the  Dramatis  Persona;  and,  apart  from  Cleopatra,  the  chief 
interest  is  divided  between  Antony  and  Caesarion,  a  malapert  boy,  who  thinks  that 
Rome  and  all  Romans  should  bow  the  knee  to  him  because  in  his  veins  runs  the 
blood  of  Julius  Caesar.  Oeopatra's  love  seems  to  be  equally  shared  by  Antony  and 
Csesarion.  The  play  opens  alter  the  battle  of  Actium,  and  the  First  Act  closes  with 
Cleopatra's  attempts  to  cheer  and  encourage  Antony.  In  the  Second  Act  Ventidius 
awakens  Antony's  sense  of  honour  and  persuades  him  to  desert  Qeopatra,  who  is 
plunged  into  despair  when  she  learns  of  this  resolution  from  Antony's  own  lips.  She 
thereupon  determines  that  she  will  make  her  lover  jealous,  and  so  win  him  again, 
by  making  love  to  Octavius.  She  is  aware,  she  says,  that  she  no  longer  possesses 
the  beauty  of  her  first  youth,  but  then  age  replaces  youth,  by  the  knowledge  of  more 
seductive  wiles.  Whoso  knows  how  to  attack  is  already  half  a  master.  What  a 
triumph  to  vanquish  the  pride  and  the  power  of  Octavius  by  the  glances  of  her  eyes ! 
Let  the  world  call  her  perfidious  and  false  I     'In  my  own  eyes  upright,  content  with- 

<  out  flaw,  I  need  but  my  heart,  both  for  judge  and  for  law.' 

Qeopatra  meets  Octavius  and  flatters  him  to  the  skies.  He  afterwards  acknowl- 
edges to  Proculeius  that  he  had  never  before  so  thoroughly  appreciated  her  fasci- 
nations, but  they  had  not  touched  his  heart.  Antony  and  Octavius  meet,  and  although 
there  are  outbursts  of  indignation  from  the  former,  yet  Octavius  calms  them  and  they 
become  friends.  Cleopatra  enters  and  places  her  crown  in  the  hands  of  Octavius, 
useless  burden  as  it  is  on  the  brow  of  a  captive.  To  Antony  she  sa3rs,  '  You  have 
'  given  me  a  master,  let  me  bow  down  to  him.  From  you  or  from  him,  my  faXt  I  must 

<  crave  I  am  either  your  spouse,  or  else  I'm  his  slave.  Choose  ye.' 

Antony  at  once  breaks  off  with  Octavius  and  follows  Cleopatra.  In  the  battle 
which  follows  Antony  is  defeated  and  Csesarion  taken  prisoner.  Ventidius  brings 
word  fix>m  Octavius  that  if  Cleopatra  wishes  to  save  Csesarion' s  life  she  must  herself 
come  and  ask  for  it.  She  bids  Ventidius  take  a  poniard  to  Csesar  wherewith  he  may 
stab  Csesarion,  who  will  then  die  undlsgraced.  This  Ventidius  refuses  to  do  and 
holds  out  the  hope  that  they  may  still  conquer  Octavius  with  the  troops  that  survive, 
but  these  troops  will  not  fight  unless  Antony  leaves  Cleopatra.  The  queen  then  bids 
Ventidius  announce  to  the  soldiers  that  the  chain  which  bound  her  to  Antony  is 
broken,  and  that  she  consents  even  to  be  fastened  behind  a  chariot  in  Rome.  In 
the  last  Act,  Qeopatra  instigates  Eros  to  assassinate  Octavius.  Antony  and  Octavius 
meet,  the  latter  is  cruel  and  haughty,  and  bids  Antony  choose  his  place  of  exile,  but 
he  will  retain  Cleopatra  and  Caesarion  as  hostages  ;  at  that  instant  Eros  aims  a  blo^ 
with  a  poniard  at  Octavius's  heart.  Antony  catches  his  arm  and  saves  the  life 
of  Octavius.  Out  of  gratitude  Octavius  shows  Antony  the  letter  which  Qeopatra 
had  written  to  him  oflering  to  surrender  everything — even  Antony  himself.  The 
latter  is  thunderstruck  and  breaks  out  into  wild  despair.  '  After  such  treason,'  Caesar 
asks,  *  can  you  love  her  ? '     Antony  replies  *  I  adore  her !    Leave  me.     Your  pity 

*  augments  my  frenzy.  Leave  me  ! '  *  What  recourse,  have  you  ?  *  asks  Ventidius. 
'  Death ! '  answers  Antony  as  he  stabs  himself.  Qeopatra  rushes  in,  falls  on  Antony's 
body,  sees  the  fatal  letter  which  she  had  written  as  a  decoy  to  Octavius,  and  under- 


5^2  APPENDIX 

stands  it  all.     She  implores  Antony  to  speak  to  her  ;  'he  extends  his  arms,  his  eyes 

beam  love. 

Adoring  at  thy  feet,  behold  thy  queen  1 

Excess  of  love  and  sorrow  brings  me  death  ! 

Hah  !  would' St  thou  speak  ? — thou  sighest^ — thou  diest ! ' 
Cleopatra  faints,  but  revives  and  begs  from  Caesar,  as  a  last  favour,  that  she  mtj 
place  a  crown  of  laurel  on  Antony's  brow.  Charmion  brings  a  basket  of  laurd 
leaves  under  which  an  aspic  is  concealed.  Qeopatra  seizes  the  aspic  and  applies 
it  to  her  breast  <  O  ye  gods ! '  cries  Octavius.  Cleopatra,  with  the  aspic  still  oo 
her  bosom,  exclaims,  *  At  last  I'm  free.  My  heart  mounts  up  above  Octavius  and  all 
'misfortunes!     My  son  is  alive  and  free.  Adieu.    Upon  this  funeral-pile  I  dies 

*  queen.*     Her  last  words  are, 

*  My  senses,  Charmion,  gently  fade  to  rest 

I  die,  with  kisses,  on  my  hero's  breast.* 
An  anecdote  connected  with  this  Vernon  by  Marmontel  is  told  (on  the  authority 
of  the  NotrvelU  Biographie  GhUrale^  1863)  in  the  Preface  to  the  present  volume. 

The  earliest  drama  of  ViTTORio  Alfieri,  written  at  the  age  <^  twenty-five,  is 
Antonio  e  Cleopatra^  acted  for  the  first  time  in  Turin,  in  June,  1775.  '^^  P^^X  ^'^^ 
several  times  re- written,  and  spoken  of  by  the  author  in  such  coBtempCnous  terms  as 

*  abortion/  '  refuse,*  '  the  first  tragic  and  lyric  attempt  of  a  socking  poet,'  etc  Of  the 
origin  of  the  version  Alfieri  gives  a  description  in  his  Life,    '  Sitting  unoccupied  in 

*  the  saloon  of  his  lady-love,  whose  health  required  long  periods  of  retirement  and 

*  silence,  he  took  up  hal^-dozen  leaves  of  paper  that  lay  at  hand,  and  sketched  upon 
'them  two  or  three  scenes  of  dialogue,  naming  the  prindpal  speaktx  QeopatrL 

*  This  name  was  suggested  by  the  story  woven  on  the  tapestries  of  the  apaztment, 
'  otherwise,  he  says,  he  might  just  as  well  have  called  his  heroine  Berenice  or  Zenobia. 
'  When  his  paper  was  exhausted,  he  thrust  the  leaves  under  the  cushion  of  a  sofi^ 

*  and  there  they  remained  for  over  a  year,  during  which  he  visited  Rome,  and  went 

*  through  other  experiences  wholly  alien  to  composition.  Finding  his  passion  ezer- 
<  dsing  a  baleful  influence  on  his  life,  he  determined  to  break  it  off,  and  in  one  of  his 
'  last  visits  to  the  lady's  house,  he  withdrew  from  under  the  cushion  his  attempt  at  a 
'  drama,  and  proceeded  to  recast  it,  still  with  no  very  definite  plan.*  *  Of  this  inci- 
dent of  the  cushion  Alfieri  furthermore  sa3rs,  '  my  earliest  attempts  at  tragedy  were 

*  brooded  over,  as  it  were,  by  the  lady  herself^  who  sat  in  the  chair  habitually,  and 

*  by  any  person  who  happened  to  sit  down  upon  it.'  f 

As  far  as  the  historical  Geopatra  is  concerned,  Alfieri  was  eminently  correct  when 
he  said  that  he  might  just  as  well  have  called  his  heroine  Berenice  or  Zenobia,  with 
this  qualification,  however,  that  no  Berenice  or  Zenobia  was  ever  so  utterly  deceitful 
or  cruel  as  is  his  Qeopatra.  With  the  exception  oi  Kotzebite,  I  can  recall  no  dram- 
atbt  who  has  given  to  Cleopatra  so  black  a  character  as  Alfieri.  The  Egyptian  queen 
drawn  by  the  Italian  is  as  much  blacker  than  the  melodramatic  Egyptian  queen  of  tbe 
German  as,  in  genius,  Alfieri  towered  above  Kotzebue.     In  reading  Alfieri's 

•  Stx  Cleopatras^  by  William  Everett,  Atlantic  Monthly^  February,  1905, 
p.  261.  A  delightful  Essay  which  no  one  interested  in  the  subject  can  aflbrd  to 
overlook. 

t  The  Traf^es  of  Vittario  Alfieri,  From  the  Italian.  Edited  by  E.  A.  BowRllfG. 
1U>hn'i  ed.,  1876,  p.  422. 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^ALFIERI  543 

tragedy  let  us  forget  history,  forget  that  Cleopatra  was  a  Greek,  and  an  Egyptian 
only  so  far  as  she  had  been  thus  made  by  Phcebus'  amorous  pinches,  and  passively 
resign  ourselves  to  the  tenor  inspired  by  his  heroine,  whose  character  reflects  the 
lawless  strength  and  mediaeval  warmth  of  the  Italy  of  the  Borgias. 

The  play  opens  in  Alexandria,  immediately  after  Cleopatra's  arrival  in  Egypt  after 
her  disgraceful  flight  from  Actium.  She  knows  nothing  of  Antony's  fate,  nor  of  the 
result  of  the  battle.  She  avows  to  her  attendant,  Ismene,  her  inextinguishable 
remorse  for  having  fled,  and  possibly  causing  thereby  the  defeat  of  Antony,  of  whom, 
up  to  this  moment,  she  has  no  news.  In  the  course  of  her  denunciation  of  herself, 
she  declares, 

*  It  is  not  love  that  poisons  now  my  days ; 

Ambition  to  command  has  ever  moved  me. 

Each  path,  and  none  in  vain,  have  I  essay'd, 

Which  could  conduct  me  to  that  lofty  end  ; 

My  other  passions  all  succumb' d  to  this. 

And  others'  passions  minister'd  to  mine.'  * — ^p.  424. 
She  learns  that  Antony  has  been  utterly  defeated.     In  the  following  soliloquy, 
when  alone,  she  throws  ofi*  all  disguise  and  we  here  learn  her  true  character  : 

'  Cleo,  And  now  at  last 

I  may  pluck  off  the  veil  which  hides  the  truth 

In  a  dissembling  heart's  profound  abysses. 

Vanquish'd  is  Antony :  this  shame  and  treason 

Perchance  survives  he  not ;  the  base  design 

I  dared  to  form  has  been  fulfill' d :  so  much 

I  could  not  hope  for  from  my  wicked  flight 

But  half  the  work  remains  for  me  to  do, 

And  the  most  doubtful :  vain  are  my  misdeeds, 

If  to  my  fate  I  cannot  link  Augustus. 

And  from  his  heart  what  answer  seek  I  ?  Love :  .  .  . 

Love,  whom  I  oft  inspired  but  never  knew. 

And  from  whose  pow'r,  when  vanquish'd  and  disarm'd, 

I  glory  drew,  the  very  victor  taming. 

Sole  barrier  to  my  scheme  was  Antony : 

If  he's  no  more,  my  conquest  will  be  easy.' — I,  iv,  p.  419. 
We  next  see  her  in  an  interview  with  the  disgraced  Antony,  whose  bitter  upbraid- 
ings  for  her  treachery  she  in  vain  tries  to  stem  by  protestations  of  her  love.  When 
at  last  he  says  that  he  abhors  life  because  he  is  endlessly  disgraced,  and  abhors  death 
because  she  might  find  him  out  among  the  Shades  and  even  there  destroy  his  peace, 
she  breaks  forth, 

'  Dost  seek,  barbarian,  solace  for  thy  fury  ? 

It  is  not  love  thou  feelest  in  thy  breast, 

I  know  it  but  too  well :  here,  take  this  steel ! 

My  bosom  I  unveil,  where  once  thou  restedst ; 

Thou  know'st  it  not  again,  or  hast  forgotten ; 

Raise  thy  intrepid  hand,  and  brandish  it 

Then  will  the  blood,  which  thou  didst  think  unfaithful, 

*  This  extract,  and  the  following  metrical  extracts,  are  from  the  Translation  of 
Alfieri's  Tragedies  just  mentioned. 


S44 


APPENDIX 

Itosh  gushing  forth,  uui  tfraii^htiray  c^pe  my 
Aod  6dll  opoa  my  fied,  axid  bom  my  buuis 
Will  reck  with  k;  aad  whataorrer  breith 
Rcxnains  to  CleopatrXr  tow'rds  dice  rurniin^ 
Ejes  toll  of  lo^e,  and  dirafh,  wiQ  she  cnflcct. 
To  »▼  :  Fareveil,  I  Loved  chee^  <&e  &r  chee ! 


Anri  rii«»n   whcQ  thoa  hast  fied  dxy  angry  IooIb 

On  thy  dead  enemy,  by  slov  degrees 

Thy  tory  wiE  aharr,  and  coa&czxicy 

Revrve  in  thee  again,  and  thy  oki  ▼ixtoe. 
Aml,     Hov,  Qeopatra,  host  thon  giuxi'd  saci 

Thus  to  delude  me  ever  ?  yet  I  Iotc 

Thy  treachexiesy  and  those  deceitfixL  arrrma 

Ha^e  from  my  ear  reack'd  even  to  my  heart.* — ^H,  m,  pu  43^ 
She  dien  giTes  a  &:titious  and  fimay  escuse  iat  her  fight  xbobol  ^tTiam 
she  learned,  only  on  the  day  she  «iled,  of  a  poweiial  rrhrffinn  among  her 
desgned  to  deUver  Egypt  to  Cesar,  md  she  cetomed  to  ^jpxSL  it,  not  tor  the  ake  of 
her  own  throne,  but  solely  oat  of  love  fur  AntL^ny.  Antox^  is  xppessed.  hot  mc  am- 
vioced.  His  supreme  love  for  ho*  forbids  hfm  to  reason.  Bat  vhAher  she  be  troe 
or  &Ise,  he  mnst  leare  her.  encoanter  Czsxr.  and  che  \xi.  P^attfr, 

Havtog  fiuled  in  her  aftrmpc  to  destroy  Antony  at  Actmnu  Ceopatzia  nov  de^aes 
a  seczmd  jb&  more  fiiti?  act  ni  treachery  which  cm  hardly  ^ztl  of  a  woBoesAsi  orec, 
gather  in  nrwing  Antony  to  Lose  his  ufe  in  battle  or  to  '^"""-^  *xiw'mI**  gi^  dns 
drsrioses  it  Co  lanene  : 

^a  second  plot 

L»  in  the  odd  prepared,  t'assore  the  ffwf 

The  waxiike  trmnpefs  scarcely  will  be  heazd 

Tj  sonnd  the  haughty  sgnal  for  the  fight^ 

When  on  the  sea  the  ships,  on  land  the  cohartSy. 

Abandoning  the  leader  they  ooce  ovn'^d. 

Win  range  themselTes  beneath  Aognstosf  ^^^^wn^ 

Left  by  their  ffight  defencslea,  Ancnny 

WUl  tnm  Jtrainst  himsrif  his  bitter  fixrr.' rTT.  £,  « 

The  plot  succeeds  and  Antony  netams,  hixving  tDodied  1  lower  deep 
e»er  before  conceived  oC  and  with  pracf  tDo  dear  of  OeopafKi's  trettLheti.  There 
is  oodting  before  aim  now  bnt  infamy  .ir  death.  The  same  wiH  be  Qeopatza's  hat. 
Since  diey  are  herein  eqoaL  he  bids  her  rnke  his  sword,  trandix  with  it  her  hest. 
tenim  it  to  hxm,  and  he  will  then  transtTT  his  own.  She  tnms  oale.  bat,  sdH  cstain 
of  her  supreme  power  over  him,  artfolly  evades  the  fetal  stroke  by  sxyh^  that  tte 
win  oeadi  him  how  to  die.  and  in  soch  an  honunrable  detfh  oothmg  is  wmstn^ 

*  save  that  rfiy  dearer  hand 

Shonld  goide  the  friendly  iteeJ  ;  mine  astyhe,  tzemhuw; 

Or,  little  wont  to  strife,  might  give  tfe  lie 

Both  to  my  valor,  and  thy  crnei  thoughts. 

Into  this  heart,  by  not  an  anknown  p»fft, 

Th'  ivengmg  h\zA&  may  pfange  :  deep  scnlptarei  t^-ir^. 

Thy  ratal  hnage  wtH  be  'oond  by  thee ; 

Thou  didst  bnpress  ;t»  thou  ^lalt  cancel  it : 

The  iagjer  take,  and  strike.  ..  dum  aim'st  *way  ?  *— m,  B,pL4#«. 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^ALFIERI  545 

As  Qeopatra  had  foreseen,  Antony  refused  to  strike  and  was  in  the  very  act  of 
taming  the  sword  against  himself,  when  his  hand  was  stayed  by  the  announcement 
that  Caesar  was  about  to  enter.  Cleopatra  retires.  Caesar  addresses  Antony  in 
friendly  and  encouraging  terms,  promising  to  bury  all  hostility  in  oblivion,  and  finally 
invites  him  to  return  to  Rome,  but  will  not  promise  that  Cleopatra  shall  not  grace  his 
triumph.     Antony  breaks  off  the  interview  by  saying  that  *  never  shall  that  woman 

*  be  in  Rome  By  mortal  seen  as  subject  to  Augustus,  Who  once  deserved  the  love  of 

*  Antony.'  In  a  conversation  with  his  friend,  Septimius,  Caesar  declares  that  he  intends 
to  procure  Antony's  death  at  the  hands  of  Qeopatra,  and  then,  after  having  been  kept 
for  the  disgrace  of  being  led  in  his  triumph,  Qeopatra  herself  shall  be  put  to  a 
wretched  death. 

In  the  Fourth  Act  there  is  an  interview  between  Augustus  and  Cleopatra,  who 
puts  forth  all  her  arts  to  win  the  Roman  conqueror ;  she  claims  his  gratitude  for 
having  wilfully  betrayed  Antony  at  Actium,  and  again  for  having  caused  all  her 
army  to  desert  him.  Augustus  intimates  his  hopes  that  Cleopatra  will  some  day  be 
his  queen,  and  that  she  will  not  disdain  to  divide  his  sceptre  with  him ;  in  those 
happy  days,  perchance,  Qeopatra  will  weep  at  having  loved  Antony  so  much.  To 
this  artful  suggestion  Cleopatra  replies, 

'  Too  much  I  loved  ungrateful  Antony ; 

No  more  I  love  him  ;  to  amend  my  fault 

I'm  now  prepared :  it  is  not  hate  or  vengeance 

Which  urges  me  to-day  my  fault  to  cancel, 

But  reason,  the  cool  reason  of  a  monarch. 

For  a  long  time  his  death  has  seem'd  to  be 

Not  only  useful  for  this  kingdom,  long 

By  him  despoil' d,  but  indispensable; 

And  now  that  his  existence  might  once  more 

Re-open  all  the  ancient  wounds  of  Rome, 

Destroy  the  peace  of  the  whole  world,  and  partly 

Rob  thee  of  thy  supreme  felicity, 

*Twould  be  a  crime  to  have  compassion  on  him.' — IV,  ii,  p.  454. 
Hereupon,  Cleopatra,  in  unmeasured  terms,  confesses  her  admiration  of  Augustus, 
who  responds  in  protestations,  equally  sincere,  of  his  love  for  her.  At  last  Augustus 
says,  *  But  Antony  draws  nigh ;  we  must  dissemble.'  When  Antony  enters  he  is 
furious  at  the  sight  of  Augustus  alone  with  Qeopatra.  Both  endeavour  to  appease 
him, — Augustus  by  indignation  at  Antony's  mistrust,  Cleopatra  by  asseverations  of 
her  undying,  faithful  love,— for  Antony's  sake  there  is  no  sacrifice  she  will  not  make, 
to  fulfill  his  wishes ;  if  he  desires  her  to  be  led  in  triumph  in  Rome  she  will  fly  to 
the  chariot;  without  Antony  she  is  a  living  corpse.  At  last  Augustus  bids  Qeopatra 
live  as  queen,  and  with  her  lover  if  she  wishes  it ;  in  the  temple  let  them  all  swear 
lasting  oblivion  to  their  former  hatred.  After  Augustus  has  left,  the  poor  disgraced, 
bewildered,  heart-broken  Antony  tells  Cleopatra  that  he  will  seek  the  temple  to  ask 
the  gods  for  guidance.  As  soon  as  he  is  gone,  Qeopatra  looks  after  him,  saying, 
*  Credulous  lover,  go  not  to  the  temple ; 

Go  rather  to  an  unexpected  death 

Yes,  find  thou  death,  and  heinous  treachery. 

There,  where  thou  look'st  for  life,  for  love  and  peace.'— p.  459. 
Qeopatra  thereupon  commands  Diomedes  to  follow  Antony,  and,  in  a  dark  pas- 
sage leading  to  the  temple,  stab  hhn,  and  let  the  victim  also  know  at  whose  command 

35 


546 


APPEXDIX 


the  blow  is  stnick.  Diomedes  shoftlj  retams,  and  reports  that  be  has  dooe die  deed; 
Qeopatra  rejoices  that  *  the  odioas  rugged  chains  of  Antooj  at  length  aie  bcokn.' 
But  Aagastns  receives  the  news  of  Antony's  death  bj  no  means  with  the  pleasare 
that  Qeopatra  had  anticipated.  He  is»  oo  the  contrarr,  sternly  indignant,  and  spcsks 
of  Antony  as  *  a  great  hero/  '  a  mighty  warrior,'  who  was  worthy  of  a  fiu-  more  ncble 
end,  and  declares  that  *  To  rid  him  of  his  enemies,  Angostos  Has  never  son^  a 
*  woman's  coward  band.'  He  conunands  Cleopatra  to  prepare  to  follow  him  to  Roaeir 
there  to  render  an  accoant  of  her  atrocious  goilL  After  he  is  gone  Oeopatra*s  expres- 
sions of  grief  over  the  complete  failore  of  her  plan  are  bitter  and  her  tows  of  tg:^ 
ance  on  Aognstos  are  deep.  In  the  midst  of  them  Antony  enters^  The  conra^  of 
Diomedes  had  failed  him,  or  rather  his  compassion  and  lore  for  Antony  had  proved 
too  great.  In  Antonyms  living  presence  no  sobterfnge  wiU  avail  the  wretdied  qneen, 
and  she  openly  confesses  that  she  feels  neither  pity  nor  remorse.  In  the  last  Scene 
all  the  chaxacters  are  present,  Antony  addresses  Angustns  in  noble  words  of  mii^lrd 
pride,  resignation,  and  defiance ;  then,  trzming  to  Cleopatra,  eydaims, 
•  Fly,  fly,  O  queen,  the  horrors  of  a  triumph. 

Horrors  far  worse  than  those  of  any  death. 

Wherefore  alone  to  die  is  granted  to  ns  ? 

I  conld  have  given  thee  yet  more  of  life 

Angustns,  now  will  the  whole  world  be  thine : 

Since  I  have  taught  thee  how  thoa  shoold'st  not  reign  ; 

If  thou,  like  me,  shoold'st  be  unfortunate. 

Learn  to  die  bravely,  as  does  Antony.  \^KiUs  kimulp 

Diomedes.     Brave  warrior !  Heav'n  was  jealoos  of  thy  presence 

On  this  ungrateful  earth.  [Antonj^  is  home  of. 

Auptstus.  Now  let  the  queen 

Be  dragged  away  from  hence  by  force,  if  prayers 

Are  not  sufficient 

Cleopatra.     Stop,  thou  borb'rous  one  ! 

Thou  fain  wouldst  tie  me  to  thy  car  in  Rome  ? 

At  least  permit  me  to  delight  my  eyes 

In  horrors  and  in  blood,  yes,  e'en  in  death ; 

That  I  may  lose  my  senses,  and  extract 

Fresh  fury  from  them — But  since  heav'n  is  slow 

The  wicked  to  chastise,  and  I'm  unable 

To  pierce  thy  breast,  I  pierce  my  own  instead.  [Slabs  kerulf. 

Au^.     Heav'ns,  Cleopatra! 


CUo.  I unworthy 

Of  life ^but,  if  to  thee  the  curses  now 

By  wicked  rage  invoked  can  fatal  be. 

Then  horror,  and  deceit,  and  treachery 

Will  close  pursue  thee,  and  at  last  thou' It  find 

The  horrid  death  which  is  a  tyrant's  due 

Furies — infernal  Furies — come  ye  now  ?- 


I  follow  you — ah  !— with  thy  viper's  torch. 

Thou  discord  black,  thou  fain  wouldst  light  my  way. 

Give  it  to  me — in  dying  I  perchance 

Might  set  the  world  on  fire,  and  so  dissolve  it 

Dost  cry  for  vengeance,  Antony  ? — 'tis  blood 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^AYRENHOFF  547 

*  But  faithless  blood — O  horror — ^ruin — death. [Dits. 

Augustus.     O  Romans,  let  us  go ;  in  this  vile  land 
All  breathes  of  terror,  making  heav*n  impure  ; 
The  very  air  with  ev'ry  vice  is  tainted.' 

Genest  (vi,  63)  gives  the  following  abstract  of  a  Tragedy,  called  Antony  and 
CUop€Ura^  by  Henry  Brooke  (author  of  The  Fool  of  Quality)^  published  in  1778, 
but  omitted  in  an  edition,  edited  by  Brooke*  s  daughter,  in  1792.  (I  have  been  unable 
to  obtain  a  copy.) 

<  Antony  and  Qeopatra — one-third,  or  perhaps  one-half  of  this  play  is  taken 
•from  Shakspeare — the  other  part  is  Brooke's — he  has  added  3  new  characters — the 

*  2  children  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra ;  and  Ptolemy  her  brother — these  characters 

<  are  not  happy  additions  to  the  Dramatis  Persona,     In  the  2d  act  Antony  seeing 

*  Cleopatra  embrace  Ptolemy,  and  not  knowing  who  he  is,  leaves  Alexandria  in  a 

*  violent  fit  of  jealousy— on  being  undeceived  he  returns.     Shakspeare*  s  play,  with 

*  all  its  faults,  is  infinitely  superior  to  Brooke's — ^yet  it  must  be  allowed  that  a  consid- 

<  erable  part  of  Brooke's  additions  is  well  written — the  scene  lies  entirely  at  Alexan- 
'  dria — the  characters  of  Caesar  and  Octavia  with  many  others  are  omitted.' 

In  1783,  at  a  period  when  there  was  in  Germany  a  temporary  reaction  against 
Shakespeare,  there  appeared,  Kleopatra  und  Antonius^  A  Tragedy  in  Four  Acts, 
by  Corneuus  von  Ayrenhoff,  Austrian  Lieutenant- Field- Mars  hall.  In  a  long 
and  polemical  Preface,  addressed  to  Wiefand,  the  writer  denounces  the  dramatic 
critics  of  the  day.  *  How  can  we  expect/  he  exclaims  in  his  indignation,  '  that  such 
'instructors  in  art,  who  have    learned  in  public  taverns  all   their  knowledge  of 

*  refined  society  and  there  educated  their  taste,  will  defend  the  laws  which  govern  the 

*  Three  Unities,  elegant  manners,  and  versification  ?    What  is  more  natural  than  that 

*  they  should  keep  on  praising  incessantly  the  monster  [  Ungeheuer'\  Shakespeare  as 
'the  highest  product  of  all  nations,  not  because  he  often  shows  traces  of  great 

*  genius,  but  because  through  him  we  become  accustomed  to  all  kinds  of  possible  law- 

<  lessness,  and  that  they  should  on  every  occasion  dismiss  with  contempt  the  master- 

<  pieces  of  Corneille,  Racine,  and  Voltaire  ? ' — p.  1 1.  Ayrenhoff  states  how  deeply  he 
had  been  stirred  by  the  story  of  Cleopatra  as  told  by  Plutarch,  and  how  inadequately 
it  had  been  presented  by  the  dramatists.  He  had  read  the  tragic  story  in  Shake- 
speare, in  la  Chapelle,  in  Lohenstein,  in  Dryden,  and  exclaims,  '  Poor  Cleopatra  I 

*  thou  fairest,  loveliest,  most  unfortunate  woman  of  antiquity  !  how  brutally  hast  thou 

*  been  treated  !     It  was  not  enough  that  thou  wert  robbed  of  thy  throne  and  of  thy 

*  life  by  thy  hateful  contemporary,  the  cunning  and  cowardly  Octavius,  but  the  poets 

*  of  later  days  are  still  presenting  thee  on  the  public  stage  as  a  disgrace  to  thy  sex  1 ' 
After  this  open  avowal  of  compassionate  love  and  admiration,  we  find  in  Ajnrenhoff's 
tragedy  what  is  to  be  expected,  a  Qeopatra  who,  while  conformed  to  the  records  of 
Plutarch,  is  idealised  into  a  lofty  character,  quite  too  good  for  human  nature's  daily 
food.  I  know  of  no  other  Cleopatra  exactly  like  her.  The  tragedy  is  skilfully 
written  and  has  in  it  some  good  Scenes,  especially  the  last,  which,  in  Cleopatra's 
treatment  of  Octavius,  is  really  admirable.  It  is  written  in  Alexandrine  rhyming 
couplets. 

The  opening  Scenes  somewhat  remind  us  of  Dryden.  Lucilius,  Antony's  dear 
friend  and  trusted  General,  corresponds  to  the  Ventidius  of  the  English  poet ;  he  cheers 
Antony  in  his  despair  after  Actium,  warning  him  at  the  same  time  of  the  influence 


548 


APPENDIX 


of  Qeopatra ;  at  last  he  tells  him  plainly  that  defeat  is  certain  unless  he  abandons 
the  queen.  With  the  warning  words  '  Remember  Actimn  ! '  he  departs,  and  Qeopatra 
enters.  She  will  not  listen  to  Antonyms  gloomy  forebodings.  Nothing  can  trouble 
her  so  long  as  Antony  loves. 

*  As  we  began,  so,  too,  the  end  must  be  ; 

The  greatest  man  the  world  can  prize,  art  thou ; 

Sole  woman  worthy  of  such  greatness,  I. 

Let  throne  and  world  be  shattered  by  Octavius ; 

For  Antony  alone,  does  Cleopatra  tremble.' 

Antony  tells  the  queen  that  eren  now  a  decisive  battle  is  imminent.  Qeopatra 
replies  that  she  is  ready,  *  to  the  determined  soul,  uncertainty  alone  is  pain  ; '  and 
points  to  the  mausoleum  which  she  has  built,  '  That,  for  Qeopatra  will  the  refoge  be. 

*  Would,  O  beloved  one !  it  might  be  with  thee  I ' 

Antony  reminds  her  of  his  vow  not  to  survive  her,  but  will  not  believe  that  sndi 
a  desperate  remedy  is  near.  Indeed,  he  is  heartened  for  the  battle  to  which  he  will 
now  go  with  joy,  and  return  a  victor,  or  word  shall  be  brought  to  her  of  his  death.  He 
departs  and  Qeopatra,  thus  early  in  the  play,  bids  Qiarmion  procure  some  asps  and 
tell  the  priests  to  make  ready  the  mausoleum. 

When  the  next  Act  opens  the  battle  has  been  fought,  Antony  has  been  victorious ; 
Qeopatra  awaits  his  approach,  with  a  laurel  wreath  wherewith  to  crown  him. 
Antony  enters  and  is  crowned  by  Cleopatra  with  extravagant  expressions  of  love  and 
admiration.  Word  is  brought  that  a  veiled  Roman  lady  desires  an  audience  with 
Antony  alone.  Antony  refuses  to  see  her,  but  Qeopatra  intercedes.  '  It  may  be,' 
she  says,  <  some  wife  or  mother  come  to  beg  the  Ufe  of  her  dear  one ;  and,  if  so,  send 

*  the  unhappy  one  to  me,  and  I  will  try  to  comfort  her.'  She  leaves  and  the  veiled 
lady  enters ;  at  Anton3r's  bidding  she  draws  aside  her  veil  and  reveals  Octavia.  She 
prostrates  herself  before  him,  but  he  bids  her  rise ;  she  recalls  to  him  their  happy, 
cloudless  years  in  Athens,  but  not  to  win  him  back  is  she  come,  but  to  bring  peace 
between  her  husband  and  her  brother,  who,  she  declares,  still  holds  Antony  in  food 
affection  and  is  anxious  to  become  reconciled.  To  none  of  her  arguments  will 
Antony  accede,  but  ends  with  saying  that  there  are  other  obstacles,  known  only  to 
himsdf.     Octavia  understands  this  reference  to  Cleopatra  and  replies, 

<  Full  well  I  know  that  you  will  never  take 
A  step  that  leads  to  Qeopatra's  harm. 
And  this  I  honour ;  you  can  lightly  judge 

That  I  do  not  forget  the  cause  of  iL     \Antony  expresses  astomskment. 
Ignoble  hate  has  ne'er  disgraced  my  heart. 
Thou  lov'st  her — this  shows  she's  worthy  of  thy  love. 
Although  I  ne'er  can  rival  her  in  charms. 
In  greatness  of  the  soul,  she'll  not  excel  me. 
And  more  I  ask  not.     Ah,  not  from  envy 
Would  I  disturb  these  bonds  which  make  you  blest 
Far  less  to  me,  I  own,  is  my  own  weal 
Than  thine, — dear  father  of  my  children  ! ' 

Antony  replies  that  all  is  in  vain ;  he  honours  her  and  will  always  honour  her, 
but,  ascribe  it  to  Fate  if  need  be,  he  cannot  comply  with  her  wishes.  The  children 
are  then  brought  in,  and  they,  with  their  mother,  fall  at  the  leet  of  Antony,  who  is 
deeply  moved.     Qeopatra  enters,  and  in  the  veiled  Roman  lady  discovers  Octavia, 


DRAMA  TIC  VERSIONS— A  YRENHOFF 


549 


who  explains  to  her  that  she  is  come  to  try  to  extricate  Antony  from  his  perilous 
position  and  begs  for  protection.     Cleopatra  replies, 
*  I  wonder  greatly  at  thy  deed,  Octavia  ! 

How  I  regard  it,  I'll  not  now  explain. 

Yet  know,  whoe*er  as  friend, — for  such  thou  claim'st  to  be, — 

Seeks  my  protection,  it  shall  be  bestowed. 

[  To  Charmion]  Be  it  your  care  to  see  throughout  my  court 

That,  like  myself,  she's  treated  as  a  queen. 

[  To  Octavia'^  Free,  as  thou  may'st,  from  the  engulfing  flood 

Thy  husband,  sinking  neath  the  raging  storm  ; 

May  heaven  aid  thee, — and  reward  thy  pains ! 

In  nought  will  I  deprive  thee  of  the  merit. 

Complete  your  plans  untrammelled.     But  know  this, 

From  them  I  must  be  utterly  excluded. 

As  soon  as  he  has  made  his  firm  resolve. 

Then,  and  not  till  then,  I'll  decide  my  lot. 

And  also  until  then,  I  ask  you,  Sir, 

To  suffer  me  to  stay  in  my  seclusion. 

Ant,     What !  Cleopatra  asks 

Cleop,  Nothing;  she  commands; 

And  counts, — if  she  is  dear, — on  thy  obedience.  [Exit  with  her  train? 
As  soon  as  she  is  gone  Octavia  breaks  forth  into  admiration  of  the  nobility  of  her 
character.  But  none  the  less  does  she  urge  her  vacillating  husband  to  return  with  her 
and  their  children  to  Rome  and  to  the  paths  of  virtue.  Antony  at  last  decides  that 
he  will  lay  down  his  power  and  become  a  private  citizen  if  Caesar  will  do  the  same. 
Should  Caesar  consent  to  do  this,  and  the  Senate  confirm  her  throne  to  Cleopatra,  he 
will  live  in  Athens  with  Octavia,  from  whom  no  power  on  earth  can  then  separate 
him.  Octavia  is  certain  that  she  can  persuade  her  brother  to  this  course  and  the 
Scene  ends  with  profuse  tears  of  joy  all  round,  to  which  effusion  Lucilius  contributes. 
Charmion,  who  had  come  to  tell  Octavia  that  her  apartments  were  ready,  is  a  witness 
to  this  reconciliation  and  reports  it  to  her  anxious  mistress,  offering,  at  the  same 
time,  to  kill  Octavia  during  the  night.  This  horrifies  Cleopatra,  who  sternly  reproves 
her.  At  last  she  decides  to  send  a  secret  messenger  to  Caesar's  camp,  and  the 
Act  ends.  In  the  next  Act^  while  waiting  for  the  result  of  Octavia's  intercession  with 
Octavius,  Antony  and  Qeopatra  have  a  stormy  scene.  Cleopatra  asserts  that  Antony 
had  conunitted  her  fate  to  Caesar.  This  Antony  denies,  and  says  that  Rome,  through 
the  Senate  on  its  oath,  had  for  ever  renounced  all  claim  to  Cleopatra's  throne. 

*  CUop.     Much  longed  for  chance  !  forsooth  my  bliss  is  boundless ! 

Yet,  Sir,  to  whom  must  I  ascribe  this  bliss  ? 

To  Rome?  Octavia?  To  Caesar?  or  to  thee? 
Ant,     Thou  triflest.  Queen  I 
CUop.  [with  angry  earnestness.^     Resolve  me  then  my  doubts ! 

Whose  is  the  saving  ann  that,  out  of  pity. 

Maintains  me  on  my  throne  ancestral  ? 

To  whom  do  I  owe  thanks  for  this,  my  crown ! 

Is't  not  Octavia  ?  is  it  not  her  charms. 

Whose  power, — ^to  win  thee  from  me, — won  Rome's  grace  ? 

Did  not  a  single  tear,  shed  at  thy  feet. 

Nay  but  a  single  sigh,  dissolve  the  bond 


550 


APPENDIX 


*  That  knit  os  finn  together,  up  till  now. 
And  place  within  the  power  of  m  j  foe 
Mj  £site,  mj  fame,  and  all  my  happiness  ? 
This,  tAisy  ingnte,  shalt  thou  explain  to  me/ 

Antony  complains  that  OctaTta  would  not  have  persuaded  him,  had  Qeopatxa ; 
bat  a  word  or  giren  a  hint.     She  ac^ain  breaks  forth, 

*  A  word,  a  hint  from  me ! — to  rouse  thy  duty  ? 
Traitor !  shewed  she  not  to  thee  thine  inmost  heart? 
Could  I  believe  thy  faith  so  weakly  grounded  ? 
And  to  Octavia's  tongue  must  I  submit. 

And  blush  at  every  word,  cooiess  my  fear. 

And  by  my  lowness  make  her  triumph  greater  ? 

So  low  no  power  shall  ever  make  me  bow  ! 

Let  th^im^  then  brute,  deprive  me  of  my  throne. 

One  thing  remains,  my  honour  is  my  own 

And  should  this  pride,  this  day  involve  my  death 

The  thought  of  but  one  weakness  makes  me  rue : — 

That,  O  barbarian,  I  hare  lived  £br  you !  ^ 
Antony  rrrlanniS  that  this  is  beyond  endurance  and  that  Octavm  shall  at  once 
letmn,  alone,  to  Rome,  all  thought  of  peace  shall  be  relinquished,  and  demands  that 
Qeopatra  shall  tell  him  what  course  to  take.     She  replies, 

'  The  work  thou  hast  begun,  complete.     This,  Sir, 

Is  all  that  thou  canst  do.     FareweO. 
Ami.     No,  cruel  one,  before  thou  gocst 

Say  what  for  me  and  thee  thou  hast  resolved. 

Cltop.     Thereto  must  Cesar  tirst  bestow  the  poiper. 

The  one  on  tnal  cannot  be  the  judge. 

FarewelL  [£jrrf/ 

Antony  for  a  while  rages  against  Qeopatra,  but  at  last  recognises  that  it  is  reaH? 
love  for  him  that  nukes  her  jeopardise  her  throne  and  her  very  life.  Then  he  decides 
that  Octavia  is  the  real  cause  of  all  this  misery,  and  resolves  never  to  see  her  again, 
hut  remain  for  ever  bv  Oeooatn's  side.  Lucilius  enters*  but  is  so  shacked  at  Anionv's 
change  of  heart  that  be  departs  in  anger.  Antony  sends  after  him  ;  when  he  retans 
he  so  convicts  Antony  of  folly  in  dinging  to  Cleopatca  that  Antony  swears  never 
to  see  her  again  until  he  parts  front  ho-  for  ever.  Octavia.  enters  with  Cjesar* 
letter  of  assent  to  Antony's  proposition  :  Cesar  will  lay  down  his  power  and  live  ss 
a  private  citizen  in  Epims;  Qeopatra's  dirone  shall  be  unmolested.  The  jovisf 
AntDoy,  Octavia,  and  the  children  is  unbounded.  Cleopatra  enters  and  Ancoaiy 
endeavours  to  explain  to  her  the  situation  and  its  advantages  for  all  ccncented.  Geo- 
pada  declares  that  she  tcx)  has  been  in  correspondence  vrith  Cesar,  and  hands  to 
Antony  a  letter  from  Cesar  wherein  she  is  told  tu  place  no  reliance  on  his  agrae- 
ment  with  Occavio*  and  tiiot  he  pledges  himself  to  secure  her  safety  and  her  thzuce 
if  she  will  send  him  Antnny's  head.  Octavia,  heartbroken,  over  the  dsplioiy  of  her 
tKacherous  brother,  departs  with  her  children  and  is  seen,  no  more.  Antony  dtzcws 
hunself  at  the  feet  of  Cleopatra  and  with  tears  acknowledges  her  magnaniBiCT.  Be 
takes  a  tender  leave  of  her  and  deports  to  plunge  into  battle  with  t^i^^"-  Get> 
patra,  from  a  tower  of  her  palace,  watches  the  Ught  and  sees  Anfiocy's  deteaL 
DwBetnos,  whom  :^ie  had  scsit  fi}r  news  of  Antony's  welfons.  estfer^  *ial  zetat'^s  bov 
AntKMiy,  on  a  6dse  report  of  Cleopatra's  deaih«  had  atcenxpced  to  kill  himself,  md^ 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— AYRENHOFF  551 

when  told  by  Demetrius  that  she  was  alive,  had  sent  her  tender  messages  imploring 
her  forgiveness.  Cleopatra  commands  Demetrius  to  bring  Antony  to  her  at  once, 
and  bids  Charmion  fetch  the  asp.  Antony  is  brought  in,  borne  by  soldiers.  Both 
Cleopatra  and  Antony  implore  forgiveness  of  each  other.  He  begs  her  to  fly,  she 
protests  that  life  has  no  more  charm  for  her,  but  to  die  with  him  will  be  her  highest 
bliss.     Antony  dies,  and  after  her  first  outburst  of  sorrow  Cleopatra  exclaims,  <  I 

*  who  deeply  swore  not  after  thee  to  live,  A  proof  of  my  true  faith  I  hasten  now 

*  to  give.* 

Dolabella  enters,  and,  under  a  feigned  weakness  and  timidity,  she  extracts  from 
him  the  secret  that  within  three  days  she  is  to  be  sent  to  Rome.  Cleopatra  gives  him 
a  letter  to  be  delivered  to  Csesar.  When  alone  with  Charmion,  Cleopatra  bids  her 
place  a  throne  near  Antony's  corpse ;  she  then  takes  the  vase  containing  the  aspic, 
lifts  the  cover,  and  looking  in,  says, 

'  Well,  little  thing !  how  fixedly  thou  starest ! 
Dost  think  thy  hissing  can  awaken  fright  ?  [sorrow  ! 

Here  I  [thrusting  her  arm  into  the  vase.'\     Cool  thy  anger  and  abate  my 
It  hurts  not,  Charmion  !  \_She  returns  to  the  corpse.^ 
Now,  my  departed  friend  !  for  ever  we're  united. 
Now  I  dare  call  thee  husband, — myself  thy  wife. 
Nought  severs  us  again ;  one  tomb  for  both  ! 
This  thought  alone,  for  me,  can  sweeten  death.* 
She  bids  Charmion  bring  her  crown  and  summon  all  her  attendants,  who  enter 
and  group  themselves  about   her  with  the  emblems  of  royalty — the  diadem  and 
sceptre.     She  says,  aside  <  What  coolness  steals  so  softly  through  my  veins  !     Is  it 
<  the  poison  ?  ah,  how  gentle  I ' 

She  tells  her  attendants  that  she  has  remembered  them  all  and  that  Demetrius 
has  the  gold ;  even  if  they  are  subject  to  Csesar  they  must  always  retain  the  free- 
dom in  their  hearts  to  love  and  remember  her.  Dolabella  enters  and  announces  the 
approach  of  Csesar,  who,  shortly  after,  enters.  Dolabella,  in  an  aside,  says  to  the 
queen  that  she  must  rise,  and  not  remain  seated  in  Caesar's  presence.  She  keeps  her 
seat. 

*  Casar.     O  woeful  sight  I  Unhappy  Antony  ! 
Why  could  I  never  win  thy  confidence  ? 
Thy  hatred  was  my  grief, — at  last  thy  ruin  ! 
Unhappy  queen  !  I  feel  for  thy  misfortune  ! 

Cieop.     Had  our  mischance  not  been  thy  fortune's  germ 
I  doubt  not  thou  hadst  pitied  us,  Octavius. 
But,  Sir,  unpitied  I  can  bear  my  sorrow.* 
Caesar  assures  her  that  he  is  her  friend,  and  she  obtains  from  him  the  promise  that 
she  shall  be  buried  in  the  same  tomb  with  her  Antony ;  Caesar  considers  it  a  trifling 
request,  he  was  ready  to  grant  much  greater. 

*  Cleop.     To  thee  it  may  be  small,  to  me  *tis  great. 
Is  it  no  salve  in  death  to  be  united 
To  him  who  was  the  dearest  upon  earth  ? 
Ay, — to  that  great  man,  the  very  last  great  man 
This  servile  world  can  ever  name  with  pride? 
Dolabella.  [aside,'\  Ah,  Qeopatra  ! 
Cleop.     What !  shall  I  refrain  from  praising  him  ? 
Caesar  himself  can  witness  to  his  greatness ; 


552  APPENDIX 

'  To  it,  forsooth,  he  owes  his  happy  fortune, 
The  laurel,  which  adorns  him  now,  was  gathered 
For  him  at  Philippi  by  Antony. 
That  weighty  fight  saw  Caesar  but  preparing, — 
He  had  a  fever  then,  and  could  not  fight 

Qtsar,     What  insolent  derision,  thou  audacity  ! 

Dolabella.  [aside  to  Casar.']  Pardon  her,  Sire  ! 
Her  sorrows  tempt  her  to  forget  herself. 

Cleop,     Friend,  let  him  rage  !  he'll  learn  to  honour  truth  I 
He  rules  now  uncontrolled — ^he'U  never  hear  it  more  ! 

Casar.     Insulting  Pride  !     Know*st  thou  not  who  I  am, 
And  who  thyself  art  now  ? 

Cieqp,  For  aye,  a  queen  ! 

Whose  fearless  daring  no  soldier  can  dismay ! 
^Vho  e*en  in  death  can  still  avenge  an  insult. 

Casar.     An  insult  ?  Thou  ?  From  me  ? 

CUop.     From  thee,  thou  tyrant !  [She  throws  Casar^s  Idter 

Who  dared  to  ask  from  me  assassination ;  to  her  at  his  feet. 

Who  held  me  as  a  traitor  to  my  loved  one ; 
Offered  my  realm  as  the  reward  of  crime. 
How  mean  the  conqueror  shows  beside  the  conquered ! 
How  dastardly  stands  forth  assassination 
Beside  the  honourable  duello, — 
Fraud  and  deceit  by  honesty  and  courage !  [She  sinks  down.  Char- 

Dolabella.     What  does  this  mean  ?     Her  eyes  grow  dim !        mion  brings  her 

Charmion.  She  is  dying.  to  the  throne. 

Casar.     Ha  !     who  loves  his  life  speak  out,  and  say 
What  means  this — 

Oeop.     Spare  thy  anger !     Egypt's  queen  has  finished 
Her  last  duty — she  dies  and  will  not  basely 
— Out-live  her  glory — Lay  me  by  Antony — 
Thou  hast  pledged  thy  word — Oh,  Charmion — 
'Tis  ice — death's  freezing  hand — my  heart — 
My  Antony  I  [She  dies."]  * 

^^  1793  Julius,  Reichsgraf  von  Soden,  published  a  Tragedy  in  prose,  called 
Kleopatra.  Whether  or  not  it  was  ever  acted  I  do  not  know.  In  a  short  Preface 
the  author  remarks  that  the  subject  has  been  already  used  by  the  dramatists  of  many 
nations,  and,  among  them,  Shakespeare  stands  at  the  head.  From  his  own  study 
of  history  the  author  has  been  led  to  believe  that  full  justice  has  not  been  done  to 
the  character  of  Cleopatra,  in  whom  he  believed  that  he  discerned  *  a  mingling  of 
'  coquetry  and  nobility,  of  voluptuousness  and  strength,  of  weakness,  of  womanliness, 
*  and  of  regal  freedom,  which  explained  all  the  apparent  contradictions  of  her  acts.* 
In  carrying  out  this  conception  I  cannot  say  that  I  think  the  author  is  altogether 
successful.  The  voluptuous  tendency  in  Geopatra's  nature  is  emphasized, — indeed, 
it  is  more  conspicuous  than  in  any  other  version  with  which  I  am  acquainted.  I  can 
perceive  no  traces  in  Cleopatra  of  unusual  strength  of  character,  unless  it  be  the 
unabashed  way  in  which  she  unfolds  to  her  maid,  Miris,  her  excellent  reasons  for 
changing  from  the  unsuccessful  Antony  to  the  successful  Caesar.    Unlike  other  Ver- 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— VON  SODEN 


553 


sums  there  is  no  parting  Scene  between  Antony  and  Cleopatra.  Anton3r's  attempt  at 
suicide  is  entirely  successful ;  Cleopatra  merely  hears  of  his  death  and  applies  the 
asp  only  when  Caesar's  steps  are  on  the  threshold  of  the  pyramid  in  which  she  had 
taken  refuge  from  Antony,  who  was  seeking  to  kill  her  after  the  desertion  to  Caesar 
of  the  Egyptian  army. 

The  foregoing  abstract  is  all  that  I  had  intended  to  give  of  this  version,  which, 
written  in  prose,  seemed  to  me  to  be,  in  general,  of  inferior  merit.  I  found,  however, 
to  my  amazement,  that  Moeller  pronounces  it  '  the  most  noteworthy  version  in  Ger- 
'man  literature.*  In  Moeller's  concluding  remarks  he  acknowledges  that  VON 
SoDEN  has  not  succeeded  in  making  Cleopatra  a  perfectly  consistent  character,  but 
in  spite  of  this  he  does  not  hesitate  to  affirm  that  <  this  drama,  together  with  the  lyric 

*  effusion  of  Prince  George  of  Prussia,  furnishes  the  German  version  of  Cleopatra's 
'  tragedy  which  we  can,  at  this  day,  read  with  pleasure.'  In  deference  to  this  opinion 
I  now  give  an  ampler  abstract.  The  opening  locality  is  Tarentum,  where  Octavius 
and  Antony  are  feasting  each  other  before  Octavius  starts  on  his  expedition  against 
Sextus  Pompeius  and  Antony  sets  out  on  the  war  against  the  Parthians.  The  first 
Scene  lies  in  Antony's  house.  Geopatra  enters,  accompanied  by  Miris,  her  maid, 
and  is  thrilled  by  the  thought  that  she  is  really  in  Antony's  home,  against  the 
majestic  pillars  whereof  he  may  have  once  leaned, '  this  floor,  lifeless  though  it  be, 

<  has  borne  the  footsteps  of  the  lord  of  the  world,  and  is  proud  of  it.'  (There  is  a 
faint  reminiscence  of  Shakespeare  here.)     '  It  does  not  compare  with  your  palace  at 

*  Alexandria,'  says  Miris.     *  Palace ! '  exclaims  Cleopatra,  *  It  was  a  palace  when  it 

<  enclosed  Antony  within  its  walls.     Palace,  do  I  call  it  ?    It  was  a  temple,  conse- 

<  crated  to  love  and  adorned  with  all  its  magic.     Ah  !  when  he  hung  upon  my  neck, 

<  our  souls  lost  themselves  on  our  lips !     Then  ! — Isis  drew  about  us  a  magic  circle, 

<  and,  sundered  from  all  mortal  thoughts,  Elysium  was  in  us  and  about  us.  Fkythee, 
'  Miris,  how  did  I  look  when  Caesar  lay  at  my  feet  ? 

Miris.     Like  the  goddess,  to  whom  we  bring  our  oiTerings. 

CUopatra,     And  I  am  still  Qeopatra  ? 

Miris,     Assuredly. 

CUopatra.  Seest  thou  wrinkles  on  this  brow  ?  Has  time  dimmed  the  glance 
which  prostrated  at  my  feet  the  conqueror  of  the  world  ? 

Miris.     By  no  means. 

CUopatra.  Then  have  no  fear,  Miris.  Antony  is  mine  I  And  even  if  Eljrsium 
has  thrown  wide  its  gates,  or  Orcus  opened  its  abyss  for  him,  with  a  single  smile  I 
can  call  him  back,  and  repel  the  Fates.  The  powers  of  Heaven  and  of  Hell  cannot 
restrain  him  firom  me.' 

Miris  refers  to  Octavia.  *  Silence ! '  Qeopatra  cries,  <  By  heaven !  If  you  value 
'your  life,  mention  her  not  again!  That  humdrum,  lackadaisical  creature!  that 
'  alabaster  image  of  simplicity  will  be  frightened  off  by  a  single  puff  of  breath  from 

*  my  lips.  Aha !  that  breath  has  wrought  mightier  wonders.  It  has  dissolved  every 
'  nerve  of  the  untamed  Antony  in  love  and  voluptuousness,  and  subdued  the  very 

<  tigers.    Antony,  he  knows  what  it  is !  .  .  .  Know  then,  Miris,  a  man  is  only  what  the 

*  woman  makes  him.     It  is  woman  alone  who  can  evoke  this  headlong  rush  of  the 

<  blood,  this  all -embracing  flight  of  the  imagination, — the  sole  source  of  great  and 

<  exalted  deeds.     This  Antony,  Miris,  this  fearful  Colossus,  Antony,  who  covers  half 

*  the  world  with  his  shadow, — by  all  the  gods,  dear  Miris,  when,  asleep  in  my  arms, 

<  I  bmd  him  to  the  bedposts  [a  feeble  attempt  to  imitate  the  teasings  of  Shakespeare's 
Qeopatra],  *  and  then  when  he  awakes,  slip  away  from  the  sulky  hero,  with  a  laugh, 


554 


APPENDIX 


<  — if  this  poor  world,  whose  lord  he  is,  could  see  him  then,  what  do  you  suppose  it 

<  would  think  of  its  fettered  demi-god  ? 

Miris.     Poor,  poor  Antony  ! 

Cleopatra.     Hush !  not  even  the  gods  themselves  dare  hear  the  secrets  of  women. 

Miris.     You  are  then  resolved 

Cleopatra.     To  take  him  back  to  Alexandria  with  me. 

Miris,     Why  then  do  you  not  appear  as  Cleopatra  ? 

Cleopatra.  No,  Miris,  no.  The  sheen  of  purple  dries  up  the  tears  of  pity,  and 
freezes  compassion.  AU  alone,  unadorned,  with  dishevelled  hair,  like  a  bride  whose 
wild  war  has  engulfed  the  bridegroom,  I  will  appear  before  him, — like  an  orphaned 
one  will  I  embrace  his  feet, — with  hot  tears  bedew  his  warlike  thoughts  and  melt 
his  wildness  into  voluptuousness.' 

They  hear  Antony  coming  and  Exeunt. 

In  the  next  five  Scenes  Antony  learns  that  Sextus  Pompeius  is  dead  and  that 
Lepidus  is  arrested  ;  he  thereupon  vents  his  rage  on  Octavius,  whom  he  now  hates. 

<  I  hate  his  eye,'  he  exclaims  (and  it  is  one  of  the  best  sayings  in  the  play),  '  I  hate 

<  his  eye ;  in  it  I  see  myself, — and  I'll  not  be  doubled  !     A  second  self  is  too  much 

<  for  me  ! '  Octavia  labours  hard  to  effect  a  reconciliation  between  her  brother  and 
her  husband  and  is  at  last  successful.  These  are  among  the  best  Scenes  of  the  play, 
if  not  the  very  best.  The  contrast  between  Octavius's  sedate  temperament  and 
Antony's  headlong,  blustering  violence,  yet  honest  withal,  is  well  kept  up.  Indeed, 
in  my  opinion  Antony  is  the  best  character  in  the  play,  which,  with  advantage,  might 
have  been  called  Antonius,  instead  of  *  Cleopatra.' 

With  the  kisses  of  his  wife  and  the  words,  *  Farewell,  my  sweet  Octavia !  *  still 
on  his  lips,  Antony  meets  Qeopatra.  He  is  astounded  at  seeing  her  in  Tarentum; 
she  at  once  taxes  him  with  treachery  and  desertion.  *  Who  was  it,'  she  bursts 
forth,  <  that  in  the  delicious  intoxication  of  love  swore  never,  never  to  desert  me  ? 
'  ^^1lo  ?  Hast  thou  forgotten,  thou  faithless  man  !  the  moments  when  our  souls  ling- 
*  ered  on  our  wounded  lips,  when  heavenly  fire  shot  through  every  fibre,  and  glorified 
'  our  beings,  and,  bathed  in  this  sea  of  beneficent  flames — hah,  Elysium  itself  cannot 
'  outweigh  a  single  moment  of  such  existence  ! 

Antony.     Refrain,  Cleopatra  I  refrain  I  the  memory  makes  me  quiver  ! 

Cleopatra.  To  think  that  inexorable  time  has  power  over  such  delights  !  that  the 
impression  of  such  feelings  can  vanish  like  a  dream  ! 

Antony.     Do  me  not  wrong,  Cleopatra. 

Cleopatra.  No  Antony  I  Thou  art  more  or  less  than  mortal,  in  that  Ihou  canst 
forget  such  feelings.  Were  I  immortal  and  should  lose  myself  in  eternity,  they  would 
be  my  sole  thought.  Antony  has  treated  me  cruelly.  Thou  divine  Isis,  and  all  ye 
heavenly  hosts,  bear  me  witness  how  wholly  I  gave  myself  to  this  man  ;  throughout 
the  whole  broad  world  I  felt,  saw,  heard  nothing  but  him  !  Every  breath  I  drew,  I 
counted  lost  that  did  not  expire  on  his  lips. 

Antony.     Thou  dear,  dear,  beloved  one  ! ' 

Antony  is  on  the  point  of  yielding  when  Ventidius  enters  and  summons  him  to 
the  camp  ;  he  is  about  to  obey  when  Cleopatra  makes  one  last  and  de^>erate  appeal 
to  him. 

'  Antony.     Cleopatra,  what  dost  thou  demand  ? 

Cleopatra.  Dear,  beloved  idol  of  my  soul,  what  in  this  wide  world  can  I  wish 
for,  demand,  long  for  but  thee  ?  but  thyself? 

Antony.    Sorceress  !  omnipotent  Sorceress  I  whither  would'st  thou  lead  me  ? 


DRAMA  TIC  VERSIONS—  VON  SO  DEN 


555 


Cleopatra.  To  these  arms,  open  to  thee  alone,  to  this  bosom,  to  be  pressed  alone 
to  thine,  to  these  lips  that  glow  alone  for  thee  ! 

Antony,     So  be  it !  * 

Antony  breaks  off  all  negotiations  with  Cesar  and  follows  Cleopatra  to  Alexan- 
dria. Cscsar  stirs  up  the  Senate  to  declare  war  on  Antony  by  setting  forth  Antony's 
prodigality  in  giving  away  provinces  and  cities,  and  by  his  treatment  of  Octavia. 
We  have  then  a  wild  scene  of  revelry  in  the  Palace  of  Cleopatra.  Before  Antony 
has  slept  off  his  drunken  debauch,  Ventidius  comes  to  announce  that  Csesar  with  his 
army  is  at  hand.  He  finally  arouses  Antony  and  inspires  him  with  wonted  warlike 
fury.  Actium  is  fought  and  the  battle  lost.  Antony's  despair  and  humiliation  are, 
as  in  all  other  versions,  profound.  Again,  as  in  former  Scenes,  his  character  is  well 
sustained.  Cleopatra  attempts  to  console  him  and  so  far  succeeds  that  she  gains  his 
consent  to  send  a  message  to  Octavius. 

*  Cleopatra,  A  wise  man  bends  before  the  storm  and,  safe  in  port,  awaits  a  more 
favourable  hour.     Thy  name  is  still  formidable  enough — 

Antony,     to  frighten  children  to  hide  behind  tlffeir  mother's  apron ? 

Cleopatra. — to  obtain  from  Caesar  an  advantageous  arrangement.  Perhaps  he  will 
let  me  remain  in  Eg3rpt,  and  permit  you  to  retire  to  private  life. 

Antony.     "  Permit  ?  "     This  word  forces  blood  out  at  my  eyes ! 

Cleopatra,  Only  this  once  !  Oh,  only  this  once !  Listen  to  thy  loved  one  I — 
Like  the  soft  whispers  of  zephyrs  the  rest  of  thy  life  will  glide  away  I  My  devotion 
shall  infuse  new  strength  and  life  into  thy  veins.  Far  from  the  dangers  of  a  hero's 
path  thou  shalt  repose  on  my  breast,  and  from  my  lips  thou  shalt  drink  oblivion ;  I 
will  only  live,  only  breathe  for  thee. 

Antony.  In  vain  do  I  close  my  ears.  The  magic  of  thy  voice  dissolves  my  whole 
being  in  love.* 

Of  course  Antony  is  won  ;  as  soon  as  Qeopatra  is  alone  she  murmurs  :  <  What  a 
*  pitiful  creature  a  conquered  man  is !  Cleopatra  I  Cleopatra !  Dost  thou  still  really 
'  love  this  shadow  of  an  Antony  ?  Ah,  how  high  above  him  towers  the  young,  pow- 
<  erful  Caesar !     No,  no,  it  was  Antony  that  I  loved,  and  Antony  is  now  no  more  ! ' 

Antony  meets  Ventidius  and  by  him  is  again  inspired  with  martial  ardour,  and 
with  the  hope  that  by  attacking  Csesar  he  can  regain  his  lost  honour.  A  battle  is 
fought ;  at  the  end  of  the  day  Antony  is  victorious  and  returns  triumphant  to  Cleo- 
patra, who  has  a  laurel  wreath  ready  for  him.  In  the  midst  of  their  rejoicing  word 
is  brought  that  Ca:sar  is  advancing  to  a  fresh  attack.  In  the  meantime  Cleopatra  has 
received  a  secret  messenger  from  Csesar,  and  while  Antony  is  absent,  renewing  his 
fight  with  Caesar,  she  thus  reveals  her  treachery  to  Miris : 

*  Miris,     Caesar  sent  that  offer  to  you  ? 

CUop.     Ay,  indeed,  and  more  too,  if  I  would  only  deliver  Antony  up  to  him. 

Miris,     Did  you  promise  it  ? 

Cleop,  We're  not  yet  fully  agreed.  But  just  one  glance  of  mine,  a  single  smile 
of  mock-modesty  cast  backward  over  the  shoulder  will  bring  this  conqueror  of  the 
world  prostrate  at  my  feet. 

Miris.     And  Antony? 

CUop.     Antony  ? — Alas  I  Antony  is  no  longer  Antony. 

Miris.  No  longer?  To  whom  thou  sworest  eternal  fidelity?  Thy  terrestrial 
god? 

Cleop.  That  was  Antony,  the  fortunate  Antony ;  the  conqueror  of  half  the  world, 
feared  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  in  all  the  splendour  of  the  highest  earthly  height ! 


S56 


APPENDIX 


'  Afiris.     Alas  !  it  is  the  same  Antony  whom  thou  lovedst  I 

C/fop.  Miris,  Miris,  love  is  the  favourite  of  Fortune.  Suppose  she  deserts  him? 
Fortune,  with  her  all-powerful  wheel,  rolls  everything  up  and  down,  excepting  only 
me. 

Miris.  Pardon  me,  queen,  love  accepts  the  man,  without  any  accidental  splen- 
dour.    Thou  hast  never  loved  him. 

CUop.     By  the  inmiortals  I     I  have  ;  but  love,  like  Fortune,  has  its  caprices. 

Afiris,     Poor  Antony ! 

CUop,  That  is  just  it !  No,  no,  Cleopatra  was  not  made  to  be  the  inamorata  of 
a  common  mortal. 

Miris.     Thou  wilt  leave  him  then  ? 

CUop.  Is  it  my  fault,  if  Fortune  has  left  him  ?  .  .  .  I>ost  thou  not  understand  my 
plans? 

Miris.     What  wilt  thou  do  with  Oesar  ? 

CUop.  The  fate  of  his  father  and  of  Antony  awaits  him.  When  the  world 
becomes  too  small  for  these  rapacious  Romans ;  when,  in  the  course  of  their  restless 
ambition,  they  crush  nations,  and  the  immeasurable  universe  offers  no  limit  to  their 
rapacity, — ^then  it  is  Cleopatra  who  sets  a  limit  to  them.  Here  the  wild  conqueror 
lays  down  his  arms ;  his  haughty  soul  becomes  entangled  in  the  shifting  web  of  love 
and  luxury,  with  all  its  secret,  and  infinitely  varying  delights,  which  I  weave  about 
him,  sometimes  with  a  sparing,  sometimes  with  a  lavish  hand  ;  his  greatness  vanisheSi 
his  energy  slumbers,  he  sinks  to  the  level  of  the  common  herd.  And  such  a  triumph  1 
by  the  immortal  I  sis,  I  would  not  exchange  it  for  one  of  Caesar's  fairest  victories !  * 

Euphronius  enters  and  adjures  Cleopatra  to  fly.  Antony  has  been  defeated  and 
is  on  his  way  hither,  more  raging  than  the  '  Hyrcanian  tiger '  in  his  threats  of  venge- 
ance against  the  queen,  who  at  once  takes  to  flight  and  escapes.  When  Ventidias 
has  succeeded  somewhat  in  calming  Antony,  he  brings  forward  Octavia  and  Antony's 
children.  Reconciliation  and  forgiveness  rule  the  hour.  Geopatra,  with  Miris,  has 
betaken  herself  to  her  Monument,  and,  knowing  that  she  cannot  appease  Antony  in 
his  present  mood,  confides  to  Miris  that  she  will  send  him  word  that  she  is  dead, 
whereupon  he  will  come  to  the  Monument  in  deepest  grief,  and  she, '  blooming,  even 
<  in  the  grave,  with  all  those  charms  which  were  so  dangerous  to  him,  will  sink  into 
*hi8  arms,  and,  with  glowing  kisses,  steal  forgiveness  from  his  lips.'  Euphronius 
brings  word  that  Octavia  is  in  Alexandria  and  is  reconciled  to  Antony.  A  Scene 
here  follows  which  is  a  weak,  very  weak,  imitation  of  Shakespeare's  Scene  of  ^to- 
patra  and  the  slave  who  brings  word  that  Antony  is  married  to  Octavia.  "When  the 
tempest,  such  as  it  is,  subsides,  Euphronius  is  sent  to  announce  Qeopatra's  death  to 
Antony,  who  is  just  finishing  a  highly  moral  discourse  to  his  children  on  the  wicked* 
ness  of  women,  as  Euphronius  enters.  After  Euphronius  retires,  the  manner  of 
Antony's  death  is  the  same  as  in  Plutarch.  Euphronius  returns  to  Qeopatra  and 
reports  Antony's  despair  when  he  announced  her  death  to  hinL  Qeopatra's  exul- 
tation at  this  proof  that  Antony  still  loves  her  is  boundless ;  all  her  love  for  Antony 
revives  in  tenfold  force,  and  she  revels  in  the  thought  of  meeting  him  again.  This 
*  lightning  before  death,*  as  it  were,  is  well  conceived. 

As  soon  as  Euphronius  is  gone,  Cleopatra  breaks  forth  to  Miris : 

*  He  loves  me  !    Antonius  still  loves  me  !     Did  he  not  say  «  de^xair  "  ? 

Miris.     So  I  heard  it 

CUop.  Ay,  "despair"  !  A  frightful  word,  but  to  me  so  sweet!  Did  he  not 
speak  of  dejection  ? 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— KOTZEBUE  557 

Mir,     Yes,  indeed. 

Cieop,  Dejection  is  the  twin-sister  of  love  I  Love  feeds  dejection,  and  dejection 
feeds  love. 

Mir.     I  heard  of  frenzy  also. 

Cleop,  Didst  hear  it !  Frenzy  I  O  this  boundary  line  of  passion  is  merely  the 
highest  step  of  love,  the  very  summit  of  earthly  joy. 

Mir,     And  all  this,  Queen  ? — 

Cleop,  Whither  leads  it  ?  O  short-sighted  girl ! — Do  you  not  know  that  Antonius 
will  hasten  hither?  Hither  !  to  gaxe  for  the  last  time  on  the  remains  of  his  Cleo- 
patra? 

Mir,     And  then  ? 

CUop,  Then  ?  Then  ?  O  Miris,  the  gods  themselves  cannot  appreciate  the  bliss 
of  such  a  meeting  I  * 

Word  is  brought  that  Antony  has  killed  himself;  Cleopatra  drives  from  her  pres- 
ence the  luckless  messenger,  of  whom  she  demands  to  know  if  *  he  has  not  sucked 
'  up  every  misfortune  in  nature,  like  a  poisonous  sponge,  only  to  squeeze  it  out  over 
'her.*  Miris  brings  the  asp  in  a  basket  of  flowers;  Qeopatra  apostrophises  the 
spirit  of  Antony  ;  she  will '  cross  the  floods  of  eternity,  as  a  queen,  to  him,  and  by 

*  her  noble  death  appease  him.     But  how,'  she  exclaims,  '  if  I  should  not  find  him  ? 

*  What  if  this  presentiment  of  another  meeting, — this  powerful  yearning  for  a  re- 

*  union, — were  a  mere  phantom  ?  a  fancy  of  the  heated  imagination  ?  an  intoxication 

*  of  the  soul,  such  as  follows  a  goblet  of  Falemian  ?  *    When  Csesar's  feet  are  almost 
on  the  threshold  of  the  monument  Qeopatra  applies  the  asp  to  her  breast : 

'  Cieop,  It  is  done  !  Drain,  thou  most  faithful  of  my  subjects,  drain  every  drop 
of  blood  which  still  clogs  the  free  soul. 

Miris,     Woe's  me  !    Woe's  me  I 

Cleop,  [sinking  into  her  arms,  ]  Peace  !  peace  ! 

Miris.     Canst  thou  leave  me  thus  ? 

Cleop,     Follow ! 

Miris.     Woe's  me ! 

Cleop,  My  fetters — Caesar's  fetters!  Antony!  Farewell,  Miris! — Farewell  1 
{dies,y 

In  1 801  there  appeared  a  tragedy,  called  OcTAyiA^  by  August  von  Kotzebue. 
In  a  Preface  the  auther  says  that  for  a  long  time  it  seemed  to  him  impossible  to 
harmonise  the  many  contradictions  in  the  character  of  Qeopatra.  At  last  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  cause  of  the  evil,  from  which  her  actions  sprang,  lay  in  the 
extremest  sensual  egoismus.  It  was  fear  which  led  to  her  first  meeting  with  Antony. 
She  had  been  sternly  commanded  to  give  an  account  of  the  help  she  had  bestowed 
on  Cassius.  Her  sole  safety  lay  in  her  charms ;  she  availed  herself  of  them ;  her 
austere  judge  became  her  wooer.  Antony  at  this  time  was  at  the  pinnacle  of  his 
power,  without  his  support  her  throne  would  topple ;  it  seemed,  therefore,  of  impor- 
tance that  such  a  conquest  should  be  retained.  Added  to  this,  there  was  an  incli- 
nation to  voluptuousness  and  debauchery.  Fear^  Pawer^  and  Licentiousness  were, 
therefore,  the  only  ties  which  bound  this  impure  soul  to  the  hero.  Naturally,  as  soon 
as  these  sources  of  control  weakened,  or  even  threatened  to  weaken,  she  must  be 
ready  on  the  instant  to  sacrifice  her  lover.  Thus  she  showed  it  in  her  flight  at  Actium; 
thus,  also,  in  her  treacherous  dealings  with  Caesar ;  thus  finally  in  the  devilish  fiction 
concerning  her  death,  in  order  to  lead  Antony  to  suicide.     As  an  oflbet  to  the  black- 


APPENDIX 


iir4»  of  Kcr  wcl.  shooki  tier  heroic  death  he  urged,  and  the  tears  shed  on  Antony's 
cocptfe.  it  aost  be  bocae  m  mind  that  those  tears  and  that  death  were  only  the 
tttfc^sary  ccai«T^iiaKe  of  Oesar's  inexorable  will  and  invincible  indiflference  to  her 


c 


Fwtt  cay  tbas  icx^s^  <ai  &sl  it  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that  the  dramatist 
i^tfttid  aMuil  •!  frfta:^^  ^rarc.  Aad,  indeed,  in  the  motley  group  of  the  Qeopatxas 
mc  1««  agk  "icDe  i&y  a  tie  r"!!.!!!'!!  world,  Kotzebue's  Egyptian  Queen  is  emi- 
3eQC  « ;te  ^«  ^scxsTtfiu,  1^  snst  se&h,  and  the  least  attractive  of  them  all. 

v>ctt«*si».  wrc^  her  xwo  children,  bn^es  the  journey  to  Alexandria,  pleads  with  her 
W.*ci«r  mr  i«*oe  w:th  Antooy,  and,  after  a  promise  from  him  of  reconciliation,  Tcn- 
sa.^  Ocopatra's  very  palace  and  there  pleads  with  Antony ;  just  as  she  has 
aad  sbe  and  Antony  with  their  two  children  are  all  mingling  tears  of  joy, 
enters,  gazes  for  a  while,  unseen,  on  the  group,  comprehends  it  all,  and 
w^  a  dagger  at  Octavia.     Antony  seizes  her  arm  in  time,  and  the  curtain 
wifcli  Cleopatra  casting  furious  glances  at  Octavia  and  struggling  in  Antonyms 
|ff)v^-^  while  Octavia  gazes  at  her  with  pride,  compassion,  and  scorn.     The  curtain 
Ta«»  i^ain  on  the  same  Scene.     Of  course  Qe<^)atra  has  fainted,  and  of  course 
Izo.'ttv  thinks  she  is  dead.     But  she  revives,  recalls  the  past  scene,  thanks  Antony 
vc  ^«^*g  prevented  her  from  hurting  that  noblest  of  Roman  women,  whom  she 
3CW  :«copuses  and  of  whom  she  implores  forgiveness.     Antony  pronounces  them 
^1^  to  be  the  noblest  of  women,  whose  kindred  souls  nature  intended  to  be  united 
ja  wtcrty  love.    '  Embrace,'  he  cries,  '  hand  in  hand  and  breast  to  breast  I  let  me 
-  :e«dl  my  eyes  on  the  divine  sight.'     <Dare  I  venture?'  asks  Qeopatra,  timidly. 
^Vtavia  says,  aside,  *  Be  still  my  heart,  'tis  for  the  sake  of  peace,'  and  then  aloud, 
•  C2«»e  hither ;  be  thy  friendly  embrace  a  pledge  for  the  future  I '     They  embrace, 
jttii  Aatooy  folds  them  both  in  his  arms !     There  they  both  coo  for  some  time  while 
be  b<woBS  down  on  them,  enraptured.     At  last  Cleopatra  begs  to  be  excused  in  order 
^  pfovkie  some  refreshment  for  Octavia.     At  this  repast  she  offers  to  Octavia  a 
tfietkUy  cup,  which  is  dashed  from  her  hand  by  Ventidius  who  has,  shortly  before, 
lUiimidated  the  purveyor  of  the  poison  into  a  confession  of  the  plot.     Antony  drags 
V  t«^>patra  aside,  and  to  him  she  confesses  that  it  was  love  for  him  that  prompted  her 
ti>  the  act,  and  so  cajoles  him  that  he  dashes  from  her  presence  to  go  and  fight  a 
vluel  with  Caesar.     He  leaves  the  unfortunate  Octavia  and  his  children  in  the  power 
v>f  (w  Ieo(>atra,  after  having  asseverated  to  the  Egyptian  queen,  with  a  most  solemn 
vatb,  that  her  life  would  answer  for  theirs.     After  his  departure  Cleopatra  drives 
vKtavia  from  the  palace  with  the  grossest  insults,  but  retains  the  children,  who  are, 
however,  shortly  rescued  by  Eros  and  restored  to  their  mother.      Tp  get  rid  of 
Antony,  whom  she  now  hates,  and  to  prepare  the  way  to  subjugate  Caesar  with  her 
charms,  Cleoi'>atra  decides  on  making  Antony  commit  suicide,  which  she  is  sure  he 
will  do,  should  he  hear  that  she  was  dead.     Under  instructions  from  her,  Charmion 
tells  Antony  with  befitting  outcries  and  lamentations  that  Geopatra  has  drowned 
herself  in  the  Nile.     Antony  obligingly  fulfills  Qeopatra' s  anticipations,  and,  after 
stabbing  himself,  expires  in  the  arms  of  Octavia  and  of  his  weeping  children.     Of 
Cleopatra's  ultimate  fate  we  have  no  knowledge. 

*  Antoine  et  CLioPATRE,  Trogedu,  Par  le  Citoyen  S.  D.  M.^  Habitant  de  Mont- 
*pellUr.  L'ennui  naquit  un  jour  de  1* uniformity. — Voltaire.  A  Paris.  An  XI. — 
*  1803.'  Dr  MoELLER  was  the  first,  I  believe,  to  unwrap  the  anonimity  of  the  author 
of  this  version  (that  it  was  a  kindness  may  be  doubted),  by  finding,  in  the  copy 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— MORGUES 


559 


belonging  to  the  Bibliotkique  Naiionale,  a  letter,  addressed  to  the  printer  of  the 
play,  signed  <  S.  D.  Morgues/  In  his  Preface  the  author  tells  us  that  he  has  long 
observed  that  the  dramas  presented  on  the  stage  are  not  lively  enough  with  song  and 
dance,  and  that  the  audience  yawns  over  them.  The  following  tragedy  is  supposed 
to  correct  this  defect.  To  show  us  how  ebullient  is  his  Muse,  and  how  he  lisps  in 
numbers  and  the  numbers  come,  and  how  competent  he  is  to  enliven  a  tragedy, 
throughout  five  of  the  thirteen  pages  of  his  Preface^  he  caracoles  in  verse.  The 
setting  of  the  stage  for  the  First  Act  and  Scene  will  give  some  idea  of  the  capacity 
of  Citoyen  Mor(;ues  to  carry  out  his  plan :  *  The  Theatre  represents  a  gallery  or  hall 

*  of  the  palace,  decorated  with  everything  magnificent  or  voluptuous  that  the  imagi- 
'  nation  can  conceive.  On  the  side  scenes  are  pictures  of  the  loves  of  Mars  and  Venus 
'  and  many  mirrors.      At  the  back  is  a  superb  throne,  enriched  with  precious  stones, 

*  where  Geopatra,  as  Venus,  is  seated,  with  Love  as  a  young  child  at  her  side.   The 

*  Ambassadors  of  neighboring  kings,  each  in  his  national  costume,  grandees,  ofificers 

*  of  State,  stand,  according  to  their  rank,  on  the  steps  of  the  throne.    The  rest  of  the 

*  scene  is  filled  with  Loves,  Graces,  the  Pleasures,  etc.* 

Cleopatra  is  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Antony,  and  this  gay  scene  has  been  devised 
to  raise  his  spirits,  sadly  depressed  since  the  battle  of  Actium.  Nymphs  sing  of  his 
warlike  prowess,  he  enters,  is  overwhelmed  with  the  brilliancy  of  the  scene  and  the 
ravishing  beauty  of  Cleopatra,  and  is  about  to  refer  to  the  disgrace  of  Actium  when 
the  queen  interrupts,  announcing  that  the  whole  day  is  to  be  given  up  to  delight,  and 
commands  the  Nymphs,  Pleasures,  Graces,  Loves  to  bind  the  hero  captive  with  the 
chains  of  Cytherea.  Hereupon  follow  several  pages  of  a  '  Song,'  composed  of  such 
stanzas  as  the  following  : 

*  Our  springtime  resembles  these  roses, 

Which  have  but  a  day  of  delight, 
The  sun  all  their  beauty  discloses, 
But  they  die  with  the  advent  of  night. 

So  then,  while  old  Time  is  still  flying. 

Let  us  seize  all  his  joys  as  they  pass. 
And  with  raptures,  each  other  outvying, 

Find  delight  in  each  grain  in  his  glass.* — p.  21. 

Under  the  influence  of  such  sparkling  and  novel  strains,  what  eye  can  droop, 
or  head  incline  to  yawn  !  But  quips  and  cranks  and  wanton  wiles  cannot  last  for 
ever.  Lucilius  breaks  in  and  the  charm  is  snapt.  From  here  to  the  end  of  the 
play  Plutarch's  fine  direct  prose  is  converted,  or  perverted,  into  dull  rhyming 
couplets.  There  are,  however,  some  episodes.  Afler  hearing  the  false  report  of 
Cleopatra's  death  Antony  becomes  frantic.  The  Shades  of  the  victims  of  his  past 
cruelty  appear,  especially  Cicero,  and  he  apostrophises  them  with  horror.  Another 
notable  divergence  from  Plutarch,  for  which  we  must  give  Citoyen  Morgues  all 
credit,  is  the  ingenious  excuse  whereby  Cleopatra  eludes  the  vigilance  of  Octavius 
himself,  and  escapes  from  his  very  presence  in  order  to  compass  her  own  death  and 
thereby  thwart  his  plans.  Her  device,  which  cannot  fail  to  appeal  to  the  female 
heart,  is  thus  contrived :  the  incident  of  Seleucus  and  the  false  brief  has  just  closed 
(but  very  tamely,  in  comparison  with  Jodelle)  when  Cleopatra  exclaims  : 

*  Ye  gods  !   and  have  I  lost  all  sense  of  shame  ? 
Thus  dressed,  to  venture  in  the  gaze  of  men  ? 


560 


APPENDIX 


Woe's  me  I  my  fatal  sorrows  are  the  cause. 

Disgrace  has  plunged  me  to  the  lowest  depths. 

All  things,  e'en  shame,  are  dead  within  my  soul  I 

*Tis  too  degrading  thus  to  blush  'fore  Caesar ! 

I  can  no  longer  bear  his  steady  gaze. 

Permit  me,  Sir,  to  leave  you  for  a  minute. 

My  garments'  plight  enforces  my  retirement 

Allow  me  hence  to  go  to  re-arrange  them. 

I'll  presently  return,  and  show  myself 

More  nobly  vestured,  and,  perhaps,  more  worthy 

A  queen  disgraced,  who  blushes  at  her  state.' — p.  99. 

These  are  the  last  words  we  hear  from  her.     When  next  we  behold  her  she  is  a 

corpse,  magnificently  attired,  with  Iras  dead  by  her  side.     Charmian  is  dying,  but, 

evidently  with  a  soul  prophetic  of  the  future  dispute  over  the  mode  of  Qeopatra's  death, 

refuses  to  commit  herself  by  telling  Octavius  how  or  from  what  cause  her  mistress  died. 

CLfeOP^TKE,  Tragidie  en  cinq  AcUs  et  en  Vers^  Par  M.  ALEXANDRE  SOUKET, 
de  V  Academie  Franfaise,  ReprhetUie,  pour  la  premUre  fois^  sur  le  llUlUre  Royal 
de  r  Odion^  le  2  Juillet  1824,  There  is  a  marked  contrast  between  the  present  trag- 
edy and  its  predecessor  by  Citoyen  Morgues  ;  it  could  hardly  be  otherwise,  conader* 
ing  that  one  is  by  a  member  of  the  French  Academy  and  the  other  by  a  *  habitant  de 
*  Montpellier/  Its  Dramatis  Persona  are :  CLfeoPATRE,  reine  d^  Egypie,  Antoine. 
OcTAViE.  MARCELLUS,yf/f  d^ Antoine  et  </'  Octavit,  Octave  C&sar.  Proculkius, 
ambassadeur  de  Rome,  £ros,  esclave  d^  Antoine.  PHORBAS,  ministre  de  Clicpdlre, 
THfiONE,  femme  de  Cliop&tre.  We  learn  from  Moeller  (p.  83)  that  other  plays  by 
SouMET  were  highly  popular,  but  that  the  present  one  was  a  decided  failure,  wfaidi 
is  conceivable  if  the  standard  be  the  attractiveness  of  the  characters.  Qeopatra  is 
selfish  and  treacherous.  Octavius,  also,  is  treachery  itself ;  after  professions  of  fraternal 
love  to  Antony  and  of  fidelity  to  Cleopatra,  he  confides  to  Proculeius  that  both  are 
destined  for  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  Antony  is  the  least  repellent  of  the  three,  but  even 
he,  as  in  a  majority  of  these  Versions^  is  as  weak  as  he  is  foolish.  It  cannot  be  sur- 
prising, therefore,  that  in  spite  of  the  dignity  of  the  style  and  the  goodness  of  the 
construction,  the  play  was  a  failure. 

Cleopatra  appears  in  the  First  Scene  and  strikes  the  chord  whidi  is  to  vibrale  in 
the  last.  In  obedience  to  her  commands  sundry  deadly  poisons,  an  envenomed  dag- 
ger, and  the  asps  stand  ready  for  use  on  a  funeral  altar  in  the  interior  of  a  pyramid 
whither  she  has  betaken  herself  after  the  battle  of  Actium.  In  a  conversation  with 
her  attendant.  Throne,  Qeopatra  reveals  her  treachery  and  tells  of  a  secret  treaty 
which  she  has  made  with  Octavius,  whom  she  hopes  soon  to  see  at  her  feet  IVo- 
culeius,  the  envoy  of  Octavius,  enters  and  announces  to  Cleopatra  that  his  master 
will  make  her  queen  of  all  the  East  if  she  will  surrender  Antony  to  him.  She  refuses 
with  scorn  to  be  an  assassin  and,  having  always  at  hand  the  means  of  killing  hersdf, 
bids  Proculeius  tell  Caesar  that  she  awaits  his  arrival  at  this  sepulchre  with  a  dagger 
in  her  hand.  Proculeius  departs.  Antony  enters,  having,  to  the  astonishment  of 
Qeopatra,  recovered  from  the  delirium  of  shame  into  which  the  loss  of  Actium  had 
plunged  him.  His  self-accusations  in  having  been,  instead  of  a  victorious  emperor, 
merely  Cleopatra's  lover,  and  the  laughing  stock  of  the  universe,  sting  Qeopatra  into 
indignant  rage  and  she  scornfully  asks  him  why  he  does  not  at  once  go  over  to 
the  Roman  camp : 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONSrSOUMET  561 

'  'Tis  not  the  hour  thus  to  speak  to  me. 

If  after  all,  so  dearlj  3rott  love  Rome, 

Whj  do  jou  not,  forsooth,  at  once  betake 

Yourself  to  Caesar  ?  his  camp  is  close  at  hand. 

You'll  thus  escape  the  weary  bonds  which  bind  you. 

Perhaps  the  Romans  are  awaiting  you  ? 

Nay  and  perchance  your  trembling  wife,  Octavia, 

Will  there,  among  them  all,  protect  you,  Sir ; 

And  lictors  improvise  a  noble  escort ; 

Desert !  desert !  these  fatal  halls  of  death  1 

My  guards  stand  ready  to  conduct  your  steps.' — p.  13. 
Antony  declines  and  asserts  that  even  now  he  intends  to  conquer  Caesar ;  he  has 
friends  and  soldiers  enough  to  protect  Alexandria  and  Cleopatra.     This  intention  of 
fighting  for  her  softens  Qeopatra's  heart,  and  the  Act  closes  with  a  reconciliation. 

The  Second  Act  opens  with  a  conversation  between  Antony  and  Eros  in  which, 
as  in  Cleopatra's  case,  we  have  an  anticipation  of  tragedy, — ^Antony  reminds  Eros  of 
his  promise  to  kill  him,  should  he  demand  it  A  conference  between  Antony  and 
Octavius  follows  in  which  there  are  mutual  recriminations  and  a  general  airing  of  all 
complaints.  Caesar  represents  the  cause  of  absolute  monarchy,  while  Antony  is  the 
advocate  of  freedom  against  tyranny,  and  each  harangues  his  warriors  from  his  own 
point  of  view.  Caesar  denounces  Antony  as  a  rebel  and  Antony  denounces  Caesar 
as  a  tyrant  The  conference  is  broken  up  by  the  entrance  of  Octavia,  who  utters  her 
sad  complaints  and  adjures  Antony  to  return  to  the  path  of  virtue  and  to  Rome. 
But  her  husband  listens  coldly,  until  at  last  Octavius  plays  a  well -devised  stroke  by 
producing  the  secret  treaty  made  with  Octavius  by  Qeopatnu  Hardly  has  Antony 
finished  reading  it,  when  Cleopatra  herself  is  announced.  Antony  taxes  her  with 
her  treachery,  but  she  defends  herself  as  having  done  everything  solely  with  a  view  to 
his  protection.  She  confessed  to  having  made  a  treaty  with  Rome,  but  had  broken  it 
when  she  found  it  was  to  be  sealed  with  his  blood.  Goaded  to  madness  she  turns  on 
Octavia  with  the  declaration  that  for  herself  she  had  sacrificed  to  Antony  all  her 
fleet,  her  treasure,  her  armies,  her  estates,  and  all  her  subjects,  merely  to  uphold  his 
rights  ;  while  in  return,  he  it  was  who  now  devised  her  impending  ruin,  and  at  the 

words  'your  plottings ^  Antony  interrupts  and  tells  her  to  respect  Octavia's 

mourning  weeds[!],  and,  proclaiming  Octavia  to  be  a  model  of  virtue,  asserts  that  no 
one  shall  insult  her  in  his  presence ;  then  commanding  his  wife  to  follow  him,  he  goes 
out  with  the  words,  <  I  blush  for  myself,  but  I  am  proud  of  Octavia.'  Qeopatra,  left 
alone,  bewails  her  fate,  but  finds  comfort,  not  only  in  having  defeated  all  hopes  of  a 
treaty  between  Antony  and  Caesar,  but  also  in  the  command  which  she  is  about  to 
issue  to  her  army  to  renew  the  battle.  She  gives  one  dark  hint :  <  If  some  day  this 
'  steel  in  the  blood  of  Octavia — Therefor  I  am  hoping — .' 

The  Tliird  Act  opens  while  the  battle  is  raging,  and  Cleopatra,  with  Throne,  is 
awaiting  news  of  the  issue.  Brooding  over  the  way  in  which  Antony  has  left  her, 
she  says, 

<  Perhaps  this  triumph,  which  I  so  desire. 

Will  prove  the  worst  misfortune  of  my  life. 

And  Cleopatra,  at  this  fatal  moment. 

Can  breathe  no  prayer, — not  even  for  her  lover.' — ^p.  35. 
Phorbas  enters,  describes  Antony's  victory,  and  how  he  had  obtained  from  the 
priests  a  precious  frontlet  which  only  the  queens  of  Egypt  were  allowed  to  wear; 

36 


562  APPESDIX 

riiiihM  addsy  CiMty  accocdxog  to  rnnoiBv  this  frngriart  vas  *!*■«■■— iT  for  Octxvn. 
Aflod  the  trampocts  of  rage  intD  which  Clenpofza  fiiSs  oo.  h>m"in^  da%  sbedmnn 
out  nwrrfMT  dflck  hint  chat  if  she  unut  drymd  from  her  thaoae  ihe  viE  Sot  buae  it 
in  biood.  la  die  neaX  Scene  Antony  rniWfcW  to  Ejm  that  the  fmnri fT  g  <ir<inrd  far 
the  Egypciaa  qneen;  he  wiQ  lepadiate  OctSEria  and  mmtrj  Qeopsoa^  amad  sesexal 
fiqoiciiigs  and  icstxritiei ;  he  is  pfood,  he  sa^s^  to  bear  her  fofce,  and  his  aolj  w^  is 
to  bfxng  the  hanghtj  Boman^  to  her  feet.  Qeopatza.  eaters  and.  gteets  Antooir  «:ih 
mmrn}  ooogcatidations  oa  his  appmachmg  featmrr,  to  which  she  sys  she  has 
a  few  other  guests,     criTiiii  wkaesKS  whom  he  does  not 


• 


In  GTOwnxng  her,'  she  aaks^  *  whom  joa  so  deeply  love 
Win  00  reaaone  arise  to  tcx  yoor  sool? 

Aniamj.     I  know  how  Boch  this  day  wiQ  being  of 


CUopmtra.     Twul  see  the  flow  cf  ^  mcie  blood  than 
festal  day  m  not  yet  faished,  monger ! 
Didst  Cfaca  siippose  that  my  qoieacent  hatred 
Would  sofier  thee  to  compass  my  dishonour  ? 
Thoo'It  see  diat  I  can  yet  a»enge  my  czdwo. 
My  thzDoe  in  felfing  will  o'erwheim  thee  too.' 


Antony  is  thandentmck  and  asks  what  means  diis  fa^ahtH  wiimml*!  t  ■■MHiij^ 
and  asiKrti  that  he  is  far  ever  sepazated  from  Octariayand  hopes  at  the  alttfof  the 
inunmul  gods  to  marry  Cleopatra,  the  sole  object  of  his  idolatry.  On  ^»*'«'  '^*^  these 
wocds^ a  pallor  overspreads  Cleopatra's  features.  At  Chat  instant  Evos  rushes  in  with 
dK  news  that  treachery  has  opened  the  gates  of  Alexandria  and  diat  die  Ronaas  are 
even  sow  at  the  very  doors  of  the  palace.  Cleopatra  vniifrisrt  that,  prompted  fay 
bfaKk  jealousy,  che  treachery  is  hers,  and  implore^  Antony  Co  kill  her  as  a  puiash- 
menty  and  also  to  save  her  from  Caesar,  from  Rome,  and  from  hersdC  Antony  leaves 
her  with  the  bitter  hope  chat  her  Creachery  will  be  soccesaful,  and  her  path  to  power 
le-opened  when  the  conqueror  greets  her,  bearing  in  his  hand  Antony's  head.  When 
alone,  Qeopatra  bewails,  not  so  much  the  loss  of  her  crown,  as  of  Antony,  and  resolTcs 
chat  she  will  seek  the  camp  of  Caesar  ;  if  she  once  &id  lodgement  there,  it  will  prove 
fetal  to  him  ;  then,  by  his  death,  Antony  may  regain  power. 

In  the  Fomrtk  Ad  Antony  has  in  vain  sought  death  in  battle,  and,  when  Eras 
enters  and  announces  that  Octavia  is  ajiproachxn^  he  commands  Eros  to  kill  hinv 
and  just  as  he  is  about  to  obey,  Octavia  enter; ;  she  pleads  with  htm  and  finally 
brings  forward  his  son,  Morcellas,  who  does  not  know  diat  Antony  is  his  fether,  but 
tells  how  proud  he  is  of  him  and  of  his  valour,  until  at  last  Antony  breaks  down, 
reveals  himself  to  his  son,  and  expresses  astonishment  at  finding  the  TOtce  of  natore 
awaken  in  his  heart ;  he  obeys  the  voice,  and  folds  Octavia  and  MarceOus  in  his  arms. 
Cleopatra  has  an  interview  with  Octavius  in  which  she  temptingly  sets  before  him 
the  grandeur  of  a  vast  empire  which  he  could  feund,  with  Alexandria  as  a  ^•pi**^ 
Octavius  asks  if  he  could  possibly  'abandon  Rome  and  its  glorious  walls?'  Qeo> 
patra  replies  that  *  Rome  makes  heroes,  but  Egypt  makes  gods.*  Octavius  in  turn 
invites  Cleopatra  to  go  to  Rome  with  him  and  there  unibld  the  grandenr  of  her  vast 
projects.  She  assents,  after  saying  in  an  aside,  *  Tremble,  imprudent  young  man ! ' 
The  Act  closes  with  Octavius' s  words  to  Procnieins,  in  reference  to  Oeopatra  and 
Antony,  Chat  the  Tarpetan  Rock  awaits  its  two  victims. 

In  die  Fifik  Act  (which  takes  place  within  a  Pyramid)  Qeopatra  has  discovered 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS-^OUMET  563 

Octavius's  treacheiy,  and  that  he  intends  to  take  her  as  a  captive  to  Rome,  where, 
as  she  tells  Throne,  she  will  be 

'  Exposed  to  all  the  insults  of  the  mob 
And  lictors  will  exhibit  for  a  penny, 
The  queen  of  Egypt,  as  a  show,  in  chains  ! ' 
(Wherein  we  have  a  possible  reminiscence  of  Shakespeare.)     She  expresses  her 
hatred  of  Octavia,  and  decides  that  Phorbas  shall  lure  her  hither  and  contrive  her 
death.     Octavia,  with  Marcellus,  enters  the  Pyramid  in  search  of  Antony ;  she  bids 
the  young  boy  await  her  while  she  explores  the  passage  down  which  Qeopatra  has 
just  disappeared.     The  lad  hears  piercing  screams;  Cleopatra  immediately  enters 
with  the  reeking  steel  yet  in  her  hand  and  bids  him  fly,  which  he  does,  shrieking  for 
his  father  to  avenge  his  mother's  murder.     A  sudden,  unexpected,  and  inexpressible 
horror  seizes  Cleopatra,  she  feels  that  her  hour  is  come,  and  thrusts  her  arm  into  a 
vase  where  lie  the  asps. 

*  'Tis  done !  and  now  can  Fate  no  further  harm  me  1 
To  mock  Octavius  and  all  his  cruelty, 
I've  sent  this  poison  speeding  through  my  veins 
Come  hither,  tyrant !  here  thou  shalt  find  proof 
That  I  need  none  to  teach  me  how  to  die.* — ^p.  72. 
Phorbas  enters  and  tells  how  Antony  has  stabbed  himself  and  is  even  now 
approaching  to  behold  Cleopatra  once  more  before  he  breathes  his  last.    Antony 
enters,  Cleopatra  tells  him  that  poison  already  invades  her  heart    Antony  doubts. 
She  appeals  to  her  pallor. 

*  Antony.    'Tis  death, — I  see  'tis  done, —  'tis  death,  indeed. 
Thou  never  yet  hast  looked  so  fair  to  me. 
Once  more  I  taste  of  that  delirious  joy 
In  gazing  on  those  eyes,  whose  brightness  fails  ! 
Let  me  behold  thee,  and  close  pressed  in  mine 
Lay  thou  thy  flower-soft  hand. — 'Tis  icy  cold ! 
The  tomb  unites  us,  and  we  are  both  alike. 
'Tis  well  with  me,  since  we  are  one  in  death. 

Cleopatra,    Hast  pardoned  me  !     And  dost  thou  know  my  crime  ? 

Antony,    What  sayest  thou  ? 

Cleopatra.  Know'st  thou  my  victim's  name  ? 

Know'st  thou  the  vengeful  stroke  ?    My  frightful  rage 

Antony.    Octavia 

Cleopatra.  Precedes  us  both  in  death. 

Canst  thou  forgive  me  ? 

Antony.  Forgive  thee  ?  monster ! 

Though  death  unite  us,  crime  divides  us  now. 
Spare  me  the  sight  of  thee,  as  death  draws  nigh, 

'Tis  shuddering  horror  to  die  in  thine  embrace !  [Difs. 

Scene  the  Last. 
Enter  Octavius,  to  Cleopatra  and  Phorbas.     Attendants  bearing  torches. 
Octatnus.     Egyptians,  give  your  Queen  up  to  my  power. 
My  car  of  triumph  she  must  follow  soon. 
Make  search  for  him,  my  second  captive. 

Cleopatra  {^pointing  to  Antonys  corpse. '\  Look  there  ! 
You  ne'er  before  beheld  him  without  fear ! 


j54  APPENDIX 

Octmmu,    He's  dcsd ! 

CUopatra,  Gtve  way  to  J07  wkfcoot 

Octavim.     What  tenor  codd  be  Anried  in  oie  by  Inn  ? 
Does  DoC  the  aniTene  belong  to  me  ? 
He  has  lobb'd  me  of  the  ^ory  of  his  pankn; 
He  wss  my  capdTe. 

CUopatra.  Thon  cUr'st  not  beliere  iL 

Tboa  tremblest  yet,  e'en  after  conqorring  him. 
A  heroes  (all  has  stridden  thee  with  tenor. 

0€taviMS.    This  is  too  motdi ;  'tis  time  that  crime  be 
OctaTia's  tears  and  blood  yoa'll  deariy  pay  for. 
Lay  hold  on  her  !  and  load  her  anns  with  letters  t 
Your  ponishment's  a  sight  I  owe  to  Rocie. 

CUopatra.    Thoa  hast  cajoled  dion  with  it  ? 

Pkorbas.  Sir,  she  dies! 

The  poison 

CUopatra.     Yes,  thoa  tyrant,  I  elade  thee ! 
Without  thine  aid  I  have  controlled  my  fiite. 
Come,  snatch  this  death  from  oat  my  painfid  breait. 
Or  crown  thy  memory  with  a  norel  crime 
And  bind  to  thy  triomphal  chariot  Cleopatra.  [Dia: 

ClMopatrb  was  written  for  Biademoisdie  Rachkl  by  Madame  £mili  dk 
GniAitDiN  (Delphink  Gay),  and  acted  for  the  first  time  in  1847. 

The  play  opens  before  the  battle  of  Actiom  (which  is  onosoal  in  these  VersUm) ; 
Ventidins,  Antony's  closest  friend,  is  sent  to  Qeopatra  to  call  her  to  aocoont  for 
having  given  aid  and  comfort  to  Bnttos.  In  Qeopatra's  palace  Ventidins  meets  Dio> 
medes,  Qeopatra's  secretary,  and  the  two  have  a  long  and  friendly  conference,  whidi 
reveals  to  each  that  they  have  in  view  the  same  end,  namely,  to  keep  Antony  from 
frdling  into  the  toils  of  the  Egyptian  qaeen,  00  the  one  hand,  and  Egypt  from  filling 
under  the  dominioD  of  Qeopatia's  lover,  on  the  other.  It  is,  dramatically,  a  skiHial 
opening ;  opportonity  is  afforded  to  Diomedes  to  unfold  Qeopatra's  character,  and  to 
Ventidius  to  unfold  Antony's.  Diomedes  describes  his  queen's  invincible  chann  of 
manner,  which  disarms  all  hate  and  impels  instant  forgiveness  for  all  misdeeds ;  sbe 
is  always  a  queen,  and  always  a  woman ;  in  her  frail  frame  is  discerned  a  great  soal, 
and  royalty  amidst  her  weakness.     Thus  she  goes  frxMn  crime  to  crime, 

*  Bravant  impani6ment  et  le  people  et  la  coor, 
Ne  m6ritant  que  haine  et  n'insptrant  qu'amoar.* 

In  the  description  of  her  love  of  luxury  and  pleasure  we  find  what  is  peihaps  the 
nearest  approach  to  *  custom  cannot  stale  her  infinite  variety '  where  Diomedes  says, 

'  Ce  bruit,  ce  moovement  d'nne  ^temdle  f^te, 
Tourbillon  de  plaisir  qui  jamais  ne  s'arrftte.' 

To  this  ambitious,  unprincipled,  luxurious  character,  Ventidius  describes  Antoojr's 
as  an  exact  counterpart.  Some  plan  must  be  devised,  therefore,  of  oootioQnig  Antooj 
and  of  converting  his  love  for  Qeopatra  into  jealousy  and  hate,  should  it  threaten  to 
overmaster  him.  An  instrument  to  carry  out  this  plan  is  foond  in  an  Egyptian  Stave. 
This  young  Slave,  as  handsome  as  an  Apollo,  had  frllen  wildly  in  love  with  Qeo- 
patra, who,  in  an  hour  of  ennui,  had  deigned  to  look  00  him,  and  listen  to  the 
delixioos  protestations  of  his  adoration ;  when  at  last  he  exdaimed,  *  Give  me  detfh. 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— DE  GIRARDIN  565 

<  if  you  will,  for  one  moment  of  love ! '  she  had  bestowed  on  him  a  smile  of  assent. 
*  Poison  and  tlie  Nile/  concludes  Diomedes,  *  will  this  day  end  the  disgraceful  amour.' 
Just  as  Ventidius  discerns  the  drift  of  Diomedes  and  exclaims,  <  Marc  Antony  is 
'jealous  ...  If,  rescuing  this  slave  .  .  .  '  the  interview  is  broken  off  by  the  approach 
of  some  one,  and  the  Scene  ends. 

In  the  next  Scene  Cbarmion  appears,  bearing  a  goblet  of  foaming  liquor,  a  new 
and  deadly  poison  just  received  from  Thrace,  as  she  explains  to  Iras,  which,  as  it  b 
now  dawn,  the  young  Slave  must  quaff  and  *  pay  with  his  life  for  a  moment  of  bliss.' 
The  young  Slave  enters  and  joyously  demands  the  goblet  which  Charmion  hands 
to  him ;  whereupon,  in  some  impassioned  verses,  he  apostrophises  Night,  which  is 
about  to  envelop  him,  and  Death,  which  be  welcomes : 

*  Je  suis  pr€t  &  partir  pour  les  rivages  sombres ; 

Prends  mon  sang  et  ma  vie  et  mon  jeune  avenir. 

Mais  permets  qu'avec  moi  j'emporte  chez  les  ombres 
Le  souvenir  .  .  .  le  souvenir  I ' 
He  lifts  the  cup,  drinks,  and  falls.     On  the  instant  Diomedes  rushes  in,  saying 
to  Charmion  and  Iras  that  the  queen  is  asking  for  them,  and  they  depart  forthwith. 
Diomedes  is  followed  by  Ventidius  and  a  Leech,  who  at  once  takes  the  young  Slave 
in  hand  and  by  the  administration  of  antidotes  recalls  him  to  life. 

Thus  ends  the  First  Act,  Although  neither  Antony  nor  Cleopatra  appear  in  it, 
their  presence  pervades  it  throughout. 

The  opening  of  the  Second  Act  introduces  us  to  Geopatra,  reclining  on  a  couch ; 
before  her  a  High  Priest,  a  Philosopher,  a  Savant,  and  an  Architect.  This  reve- 
lation of  the  intellectual  side  of  Cleopatra's  character  is  to  be  found  in  no  other 
presentation  of  her  with  which  I  am  acquainted.  She  listens  to  the  High  Priest 
as  he  expounds  the  Egyptian  religion,  and  she  promises  to  take  part  in  certain  cere- 
monies ;  she  bids  the  Philosopher  admit  to  the  School,  Egiras  of  Samoa,  a  young 
student  of  ability ;  she  exhorts  the  Architect  to  hasten  the  building  of  the  temple 
of  Hermonthis ;  and  asks  the  Savant  how  many  new  volumes  have  been  added  to 
the  Library  to  replace  those  that  were  burnt,  etc.  After  the  departure  of  this  groups 
and  she  is  left  alone  vrith  Iras  and  Charmion,  she  tells  them  how  weary  she  is,  wait- 
ing for  Antony,  whom  the  oracles  have  promised  she  should  see  to-day.  By  a  subtle 
and  Shakespearian  touch,  which  I  am  afraid  was  suggested  by  Theophile  Gautier's 
Une  Nuit  de  CUopatre^  this  weariness  is  attributed  to  everything  about  her,  the  earth 
and  sky,  the  people  and  the  climate.  <  Oh  I '  she  exclaims,  <  how  slowly  pass  the 
weary  hours !     And  how  depressing  is  this  breezeless  heat  1 

With  no  cool  cloud  in  skies  for  ever  clear. 

No  tear  of  moisture  in  the  unpitying  blue  I 

The  skies  have  never  winter,  spring,  nor  fall ; 

There's  nought  to  change  their  dazzling  monotone. 

And  on  the  desert's  verge  there  hangs  the  sun, 

A  huge  and  blood-red  eye  for  ever  open. 

This  constant  brilliance  tires  my  dreaming  soul. 

Could  I  but  see  a  single  drop  of  rain 

I'd  give  these  pearis,  this  carcanet,  my  Iras. 

Ah !  life  in  Egypt  is  a  heavy  burthen ! 

No,  this  rich  land,  so  justly  celebrated. 

For  me,  young  queen,  is  but  a  realm  of  death. 

They  vaunt  its  palaces,  its  monuments. 


56c  AFPEJiDLX 


Bcc  iraac  ^^^  "»*  3iasc  iprniflrr  irs  31x1  •nrnrw. 
^^jKuei  s  twy^  trescts*  me  kaows 

Ciil  XX  land  <zi  iimiirr  ami  Lma.ifif^ 
Tbe  Ivni^  tml  .nxc  3i  -"Tiraiirn  ixe  iescL  .  .  . 
Hoe's  -xaa^sL  ixol  wtiat  11  ine  15  icxiaasc 
JLiL.  <sr  SI  .ts  bemixes.  £1  aie  ipuii  lUiii^fiL*. 
At.  e  a  its  "gmnns  '^'■'*'"t  waii  "nnry 


W^nae  iiBui  is  jjuui^ul  in  ^mehix.  iues  'ixmsad  ^ 
I3  vcrr  lirTHTTg  ^-^^'*»  Ike  2  aaMlasaiic 
^uiuuie  i#^  irt  if  iiB  >  i  'iiun^ 
3ac  "vitixxii  die  snri  j^^  3cr  x  sax's. 

is  jufii  n'  X  'iiaBas:' — 3.  i^:;:! 
i  91XIXS  'Tiiiminu  lOii  Irss  T-nn  dxe 

the  'iearziptzan.  s  ^tcs  ji  ?!iiiai;  'i      Aadncr 
■  t  iiiiiMmed  br  T-^nriiiius  imi  Ziamedes.  xxxi  iaasB  mdi.  'SrB^a.  tx 
s  OEDieaHans  of  <QSBppaiiinnrsxt  n:  Jis  :ialixre  jd  xopesc:     Jx  Ijkc 
•US  iiat^aiig  js  <iDe  31  '.tie  irr:rr  >  vxndt  .mrTMJfr  x 


•3t  ■'■■itw'rtrtTTTg  X  iiesxy.    *■  iffrMfni  iiinniies  ^jxbl  "jx 
is  jbout:  to  Ticiiu  whea  V-smnns  wimir'^  31  inm.  '  Tbe  Ssve  3 
^  T^  Steve*'  ^ncs  Anm 

*  iBf  rs^c'     And  iie  Immes  jietoutMety  xnra^. 

C!eu|Ma£».  rm%li  »hi  Aaany  *  •  Treaty '  and  believes  drat  be  .s  .ieegying^  aggi    Wbile 
iJK  :s  in.  X  rMJcmiy.  ipnui  'iing  die  irtmmug  tIiiitv.  jie  !2is9e.  ttcn  dkIuw,.  "■*■*■•  30 

nidt  ^Ixsk;  and  ins  leit  rcr  Rome.  3>  'n»::y  'Zcsm.     T!iis 
UhiJiyi  moHi  Dknnedes  azid  Tesxxinizs    igiirTcd  dxat  Jiey    "naiit  si 

at  Tftpianme  ^le  oi  'ZlrrHwiiJL,    ^i^iyr*:    iix  reaunr.  .ae.    tj"-'-^  y 

^natiMTt ;  jti  the  Tery  .asE  ?csie  ot  ail  x  -is  be  wtm,  -n 
tile  asp  :n  tiie  iwisef  Jt  ^19^     '^.^.eaoura.  .esns  tms.  Dn^Kdis 
is  btsmifui  nai « jiaiiiiunj. :  aie  rhnwiiam   iccsdcs  ±ac  ixsgazsei  as  x 
tnith   DwuDuifcs  sad.  Ibs  as  b^  Mzie  xsipamiaiKSk  ^^k  -vdl  jn  "n  Hanads 
brr^f.      :^e  asxircs  'izere  :iiid  s  *nahirri  to 

bks  SBScr,  '  TcSKna,  ^vhea  'Xm  ixxtcr  -wnl  odc  xiloir 
AausxT'  1  lore  tor  jczi      *  3ax« 


•  f 


*    I_s  :n  Jxs  smrx^  'jsmjl  3xa 
A  ixzo  ^  iorrc:,  io  pKopertr  loptaaded. 
Is  -rynrir  buv^jxt  br  ^ome  few  bxtcr 
WhiL  SBitczs  <Zc0i»tix.— ^anr,  jnr 
ac  .o^vcs  '"^^*  3cn  ic  3iDinesxts  jt   xemxnzB. 
Whea  reaaoa  rmilirs  E  im  bu  ipfi^pn, 

^is  k  '▼oust  3e  'f^^**  ^y^**  It  IS 
T^i  ae  i»  ail  bis  fiitxae  imfnttP'L. 


ts  3nae  oioae  to  n 

X  biaaii  lod  !  esrtes  x  x 

Jafc  xmf  Icn  IS 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^DE  GIRARDIN  567 

When  the  conference  is  at  an  end,  Caesar  retires  by  one  door  and  Octavia  is  about 
to  retire  by  another,  when  Cleopatra  rushes  forth  with  the  cry  that  '  her  punishment 
*  has  been  too  long  and  that  she  is  dying.'  Iras  flies  to  her  assistance ;  Octaria, 
who  does  not,  of  course,  know  who  she  is,  pauses  with  kindly  interest  and  recom- 
mends her  own  Greek  physician.  Cleopatra  gives  orders  to  Diomedes  for  her  im- 
mediate return  to  Alexandria,  and  in  a  long  soliloquy  confesses  the  power  which 
Octavia  *  possesses  in  her  conscious  chastity,'  <  that  grand  word  which  for  the  first 
'  time  she  comprehends, — that  grand  word,  virtue^  which  rings  so  loud. 

*  This  noble  dame,  oblivions  of  vengeance, 
Appeared  to  me  to  be  indeed  sublime. 

My  better  nature  could  esteem  her  greatness  ; 

I  loved  her  bearing  of  high  purity. 

I  envied  her  calm  front  and  stern  regard  .... 

O  Brutus  !  virtue's  not  an  empty  name  I 

'Tis  not  a  lie,  a  false  illusion, — No  I 

'Tis  an  authority,  a  boundless  force, — 

'Tis  the  first  step  where  royalty  begins  I 

It  is  a  precious  gift,  a  treasure  all  divine  ! ' — p.  177. 
All  the  blame  of  her  past  follies  she  lays  on  the  African  sun  that  sent  its  own 
hot  fire  through  her  youthful  veins.     But  for  this  fiery  god  she  would  have  known 
love  in  its  purity,  and  beneath  her  crown  she  would  have  had  a  loyal  and  stainless 
brow,  and  given  to  Octavia  gaze  for  gaze. 

In  the  meantime  Antony,  his  love  for  Cleopatra  having  revived  with  full  force, 
breaks  loose  from  Ventidius  and  discovers  Cleopatra,  just  as  she  is  about  to  leave 
Tarentum.  Vows  of  mutual  love  are  renewed  and  they  agree  to  meet  again  at 
Actium. 

When  the  Fourth  Act  opens,  the  battle  of  Actium  has  been  fought,  and  Antony  is 
the  victim  of  abysmal  despair,  from  which  he  is,  however,  aroused  by  the  devotion  of 
his  soldiers,  led  on  by  an  old,  scarred  veteran  named  Faustus.  Qeopatra  approaches, 
and  is  at  first  repelled,  but  she  throws  herself  on  her  knees  at  Antony's  feet  and, 
taking  upon  herself  all  the  blame  of  the  defeat,  begs  to  be  forgiven.  She  then  goes 
on  to  describe  the  delirium  of  excitement  in  which  she  entered  on  the  battle.  She 
saw  Antony  in  his  dazzling  gold  armour  and  heard  his  voice ;  he  seemed  a  being 
from  another  sphere,  so  terrible,  so  grand  was  he.  She  had  no  thought  of  fear ;  she 
stood  on  her  vessel's  prow  with  flowing  hair,  her  limbs  of  brass  and  her  soul  of  fire ; 
she  quaffed  healths  to  Neptune,  to  Jupiter,  to  Mars,  and  flung  the  golden  goblets  in 
the  deep.  She  heard  the  shrieks,  the  whistling  of  the  javelins,  and  saw  the  blue 
waves  with  blood  incarnadined.  The  scene  was  too  horrible  for  one  of  even  her 
regal  race, — her  reason  tottered  ;  when,  of  a  sudden,  a  soldier  fell  wounded  on  the 
deck  and  his  blood  rushed  forth  in  great  gushes.  She  drew  near, — O  Gods !  he 
resembled  Antony !  In  an  instant  all  was  forgotten,  pride,  glory,  history,  fame ; 
one  thought  dominated  all  others :  to  save  Antony's  life.  She  gave  the  signsd  to 
retreat  and  knew  that  Antony  would  obey  it : 

*  £t  quand  je  t'ai  reva,  quand  je  t'ai  retrottv6, 

Je  n'ai  pas  dit :  J'ai  fui  .  .  .  .  j'ai  dit :  Je  t'ai  sauv6  !  * 

Of  course  Antony  forgives  her  and  folds  her  in  his  arms,  with  a  reminiscence  of 

Shakespeare,  as  he  sajrs  <  L' Empire  ne  vaut  pas  une  larme  de  toi.'     A  new  life  is 

breathed  into  him  and  he  calls  for  his  armour,  but  even  in  that  moment  he  confesses 

to  Qeopatra  that  his  sole  enemy  is  mistrust,  yes,  mistrust     The  faintest  suspicion  of 


-(53  APPEJfDIX 


qf^ei  snii  t&eiPBrfki  wxib  ail  3X  imnifiiuis  tsviei  as 
VfHwtTwm  ^ufcu3  ami  auummcB  diat  aH  OriuMr-.k  f  amr  3bb  tli  ■iiiif  ai 

ST  ^  fc  • 

due  'tp*'*'  s  a  scree  tiinjuy  woezeSTf  Aannnr,  aiai*  is  ai  2 

r^atinB|i'  s  OBSnnc  &bcs  ap  aso  cestsint^'^  oe 

Ebnflv  3Ht  ae  Lexi  her,  and  jnwsi  <ftTrr?ini»  ai  mm  giimem, 

and.  3EiIs  oixB  t&at  dcopatxa.  s  (fraii.      HIi  aesponse  3  ''Ran  ai 

*-dieB — Aatinrr  s   abont  to  (fiel      Dead!   ^le  litncd  as  rhm,  aai  I 

*  ber  1 '     He  camxnamis  Faaaxox  to  kdl  ann:    die  SRirr  ^m"  Ebb 

I!  nil ill  ra. 

Xhe  FtfiA  Aiii  iiacETvczs  AmnnF  «lyui|(  on  x  '"— "'  fn  ds  ffirfl  if^  tiK  XjBbs  jf 
Ptknaiiie&     Hia  jaapba  dxac  he  aair  Se  fn  dernBtza:  9  jama 


<naK     ■wmmt^mvk»\m9»M     !■«■      '^■■^■■■■tl^aH      n^^  rUT    SllB.    ami    EH9KSE&imf  IXK  ai 


* 


IB.  tD  ann.     Qmnman.  snrsw  '  Dnrfr  s  sulor  anw  ji  -  "  L''"^  -^r  er  am  ftcsL     T^rf 
iBPuke  aun  ^iiiw  r  as  it  is  <lDiie  in  3^3 


S>i*>  caOs^ '  AotDiiT !  '  Ceopatm.  cail&  *  Annnzr '. '     Hot  t&e  tfaici  adi  s 
bv  OtUftvm^  woD  enien^   iiiriiirt.tHnT.     SJie  :<  ao  Iciuksl  cixe  caini  ^'*'""  ad 
iiie  mils  ar  Cleuuaiia. ;  atiuimaietigeg  as*  aac^  and  oopei  ai  live  ai 
qaeen  her  aixve  and  bovnd  oi  dbe  *i Tiiiniiiial  ■'«■■*■■■  of  C 


TIk  imnK  aaw  omncs  swHtt^  ai  a  cune.     W!nle  Ci 
win  compei  Ikt*  ai  qiiei   Hfiif  in  Cjbbts 

<:£  !iiiiL»  amt>  ^usumzd^  hunacir^ 
tiirr.  diamitit  Iiavil  dnsePBiini^  anics^: 

CtBf^     r?^-IttsrtiieibiBneL     Xpcmimd? 

.SuBar.     A.  jjuiiiaid !     Tbeae  snir  ^<ani%-  at  sgiit  of  ai^  tdovr  tfamf 'is  pwe  dn^ 
aai^  wcndci  WHig  om  rngie  tncraid. 

dap.     FdiaoB? 

SEsm:.     Tbe  smi  docs  aor  vicid  remSir  ai  anason^ — vi,  cbnr 
pain  and  be  Lesa  aesntifal  m  djrim^      ■^«— ^  tisae  mddF  fimts 
aded :  thrir  vcaom  InQs  yon  ai  tbe  lam  :an$  deepr  xns  *—**««■:  ^*'"'^^  or 
xrhainpg  o£  leaiiueSb 

CW^  [^««mf'  a  .-xpv  r»  £&r  Saeve  .^  'yrrm^tke  bmsiti  mmr  dbr  ,r<i—,] 
LfT  aie  gnne  at  dtaih  mi  mroi  Tiimmiii  I     My  onwn.  O  Oi 
mile  I     [TTIflafattzn  jicami  tht  chrome.  Ins  jmd  rTtm— m 


I 

C2n^     Ok!  would  timt  be 
Xf  oofaie  Cbmmtan.  mif  icath  wdl  ae 
ITo  IrmJl  Ai&B.  weep  oot. — Aad  tfaon,  xapeat  at  ?fikv 
Fines  me!     [Sk  ^librm^  ier  aama'  imt»  :ht  bmxmt  mm  a  :tam^  Jpt  am  ^bwlJ 
Already! — (he  pmson  's  pack: 
I  soail  a^nn  see  .%nftmif ! 
With  joy  r  <fie—CaBae.  Cbk;  and  r«e  seek  tfaf  pRy ! 
Tb  ready — cfaDn  caiBt  bwd  it  a»  thy  car ! 

r  reioHi  theew  AoRmy {To  Ceaar  m*  vfrnerr. J  And  t 

[1-1/  .'ie  jffrwmtM  jf  Cnar  .'^ie  iroif  CIcofBOn  -wzxiz  mrstif 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— LANDOR  569 

Casar,    EUe  m*a  tromp6 ! — ^moite  I — Elle  et  lui ! — je  respire  1 
A  ces  deux  orgueilleux  la  tombe — k  moi  1'  Empire ! '  [Exeunt  omnes, 

Th^ophile  Gautier,  in  an  Introduction  to  the  collected  Works  of  Mad.  DB 
GiRARDiN,  referring  to  the  foregoing  Version^  declares  that  <  it  is  the  most  mascnline 

<  work  that  ever  a  woman's  hand  created;'  and  exdaims,  'How  magnificent  was 
'Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  the  rOle  of  Qeopatra!  What  dangeroua  fascination  1 
'  What  viperine  grace  I  what  mortal  beauty !  what  tmshunnable  ascendancy  !  ...  It 

*  is  indeed  to  be  deeply  regretted  that  the  tragedy  had  to  be  dropped  from  the  Reper^ 
'  toire  after  the  premature  death  of  the  great  tragedienne,  who  alone  could  personate 
*the  Egyptian  Queen  as  she  had  personated  Marie  Stuart,  that  other  seductress  whom 

*  history  condemns  and  whom  poesie  pardons.' 

Dr  William  Everett  (The  Atlantic  Monthly ^  February,  1905),  thus  praises 
Mad.  DE  GiRARDiN's  tragedy : 

'  The  play  is  written  with  great  force  and  beauty  of  expression,  and  deserves  no 

*  inferior  place  among  those  we  are  discussing.  It  could  hardly  help  being  superior 
*to  Alfieri's  boyish  effort, — but  it  has  more  dignity  than  The  False  One,  with  less 

*  appearance  of  being  hurried  for  the  stage ;  the  scope  and  field  is  wider  than  All  for 

*  Lave,  and  le  grand  ComeilU  must  confess  his  brilliant  countrywoman  excels  him  in 
'  manliness.  . .  .  The  radical  defect,  to  Saxon  taste,  is  the  spirit  of  declamation  that 
'  dominates  situation  and  poetry.     Ventidius,  Diomedes,  the  Slave,  Antony,  Caesar, 

*  Octavius,  Cleopatra,  all  have  to  develop  their  feelings  in  long  tirades — le  recit  de 

*  Thiramene,  One  does  not  question  that  Rachel  and  her  coadjutors  could  have  given 

<  them  with  immense  spirit  and  feeling ;  one  feels  that  the  point  and  wit  of  the  French 

*  language  is  here  elevated  to  a  dignity  worthy  of  Bossuet  and  Vergniaud.  But  in 
'  Antony  and  Cleopatra  there  is  not  a  single  speech  twenty  lines  long ;  the  rhetoric 
'  which,  in  Coriolanus,  in  Julius  Casar,  in  Henry  V.,  in  Henry  VIII,  unless  that  is 
'  Fletcher's,  throws  all  Comeille  and  Racine  into  the  shade,  is  laid  aside  for  fear  it 
'  should  mar  the  dramatic  perfection  of  the  character  and  incidents.' 

Walter  Savage  Landor  has  entitled  one  of  his  inimitable  <  Dialogues  in  Verse,' 
Antony  ^ND  Cleopatra  ;  it  consists  of  Twelve  Scenes  wherein  appear  about  the  same 
number  of  Shakespeare's  chief  characters ;  but  they  are  Shakespeare's  characters  only 
in  name,  nor  are  they  the  characters  of  Plutarch.  The  fire  of  Shakespeare's  Cleo- 
patra is  subdued  to  a  pure,  unwavering  glow,  exquisitely  radiant  with  love  for  Antony 
and  for  her  children.  Antony's  turbulence  has  vanished ;  he  is  the  calm,  high- 
souled,  broken-hearted,  classic  hero.  The  story  of  the  asps  is  treated  as  mere 
gossip.  Qeopatra  dies  of  the  poison  contained  in  a  ruby  ring  which  Antony  gives 
her  (in  the  Scene  here  reprinted).  Her  death  is  not  described ;  she  sends  the  empty 
ring  to  Antony ;  he  understands  that  she  has  taken  the  poison  and  is  dead ;  he 
thereupon  kills  himself.  Csesarion  is  endowed  with  every  charm  of  a  young  boy 
just  verging  on  manhood,  and  his  cruel  death,  commanded  by  Octavius,  under  the 
stabs  of  Scopas's  dagger,  is  harrowing  ;  without  being  similar,  there  is  about  the  Scene 
of  his  death,  an  indefinable  reminiscence  of  the  Scene  between  Arthur  and  Hubert 
Only  those  Scenes  wherein  Qeopatra  appears  are  here  reprinted. 

*  Scene  the  Second. 
Soothsayer  and  Cleopatra. 
Soothsayer,     Our  lord  Antonius  wafU  away  all  doubt 
Of  his  success. 


570 


AFPEXDDC 

Capmtr^     WEtatT  agsmst  sgns  aad  xoezs  ? 

Smatkssptr,     Even  io  1 

C£ap^rz.  P^rzuca  he  cniAs  mmaeif  a>  HirmDry 

Bgcr.Bii*  HI  laas  pm^enixcr  Oi;  ttim. 

Saatksayer.     Ail  1  cuic  sweei  anile  imgst  bcai^ 
Was  ftexusie  (i>  rfie  blaz&d  vannm  if  sniics. 

C^o^f^s/rx.     It  Hgmirf  is  hail'  i  by  men  beiaw 
For  men^cfa.  and.  gnocnw.  w^xy  not  Amunv  ? 
Wbf  Boc  saecced  as  loiPttii  hsr?  wtxy  ooc 
EjE&m^v  l&e  oivnic  nsr  tne  pnpUK'  cnswn.  ?  ^. 

Qiij>(tt^aL     Aoiciiv !  is  hoc  'IzaB'  aow  a.  ^nd  ? 


we  icmw  X.     wttraac 

ICen  waaid.  ooc  lenme  dsen  cu  smce  a  bii^w 

Ac  rhrr  r  die  laws  deciare  ic  acnle^ps. 

Amtomy.     Joiiusw  tf  I  knew  JaihiB^  hnd  been  nriwr 

Fucsc  aiumm  men  "han  laac  anuin^  tne  * jcds. 
Oeapatra^     Ai  least  pni:  on  tiiy  heirt  a 
Amtamy.     I  bsve  put  on  a  lamei  -nze  air 

As  manr  kxn^T  crowns  as  foiicud 

Tlie  Lvoiian.  <ieaert  ase  hoc  wiiiii  dns 

Clapmtrz.     Bac  aH  wooid  bend  sefiire  dtec 
Antamv,  Twos  dK  bait 

Of  Cjesbt  id  aiifipf  ic;   twas  his  dearii. 

Ceapatr^t^     Be  dien  wbac  OeaBT  is. O  I 

Xo  Twi^h  so  Irjiui  oecones  not  sche  s  ^g*» 
Amtamy,     He  is  a  fiar,  we  see ;  jo  is  die  bsir 

Of  Beieuuie  :  staa  and  Gods  ate  dfe. 

WtDic  wiifh.  By  IcTPe.  aie  downs  ?     Tlun  ^rvest 

I  gicve  die  cxrciec  dxac  <!nijfwirj  dxcm. 

Handmaidens  den  sk&  pazv  and  vaiess  scaich  it 

Spuiti<ely  oi^  and  toas  it  back  agpin. 

Cto&atTTt..     Bat  gcaver  men  puoe  op  wrdt  aw&I 
jiMtumjr.     And  never  gBK  at  diat  amncer 

Wbo  tntxB  his  wheel  and  fiohions  ant  his  vase 

Fnnn  die  Nile  cnnr !     Tis  easy  wrzxk.  air  hmt; 

Wmsw  was  mine  xo  cum.  fbcdt  k:n|rs  txnm  suF 

As  vde  ind  dnrrrTe:  he  sell  plies  his  CEvie, 

Bat  oiine^  widi  aH  my  cnstomers^  is  gone. 

Ever  by  ok  let  fnfmir^  be  awed,. 

?Gane  etie  :  bring  imiial  me  many,  oear  ok  fisw^ 

Keeput^  aor  dioae  siaiven  knaves  ofaacene 

Who  knd  it  widi  hnmiliry,  who  pre^ 

Sfen's  ^mlriffw  down,  gtne  dienr  cwn  hands 

And  cot  a  cabit  aS,  and  tnck  dieir  heels 


CltVpmifiM^        Tim  minpiwet^wilir^  *     incOOTgdde  t 

0  wzelch!  if  qoeens  were  ever  caught  m  binrii» 

1  sikiBld.  ac  SBcit  OBeemly 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS-^LANDOR  571 

I  think  I  must  forgive  it. What !  and  take 

Before  I  grant  ?    Again  t     You  violent  man  I 
Will  you  for  ever  drive  me  thus  away  ? 

Scene  the  Third. 
Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

Antony,     What  demon  urged  thy  flight  ? 

Cleop€Ltra,  The  demon  Love. 

I  am  a  woman,  with  a  woman's  fears, 
A  mother's,  and,  alas  O  Antony  ! 
More  fears  than  these. 

Antony.  Of  whom  ? 

Cleopatra,  Ask  not  of  whom 

But  ask  for  whom,  if  thou  must  ask  at  all, 
Nor  knowest  nor  hast  known.     Yes,  I  did  fear 
For  my  own  life  ...  ah  I  lies  it  not  in  thine  ? 
How  many  perils  compast  thee  around  ! 

Antony,     What  are  the  perils  that  are  strange  to  me  ? 

Cleopatra,     Mine  thou  couldst  not  have  seen  when  swiftest  oars. 
Attracted  by  the  throne  and  canopy. 
Pounced  at  me  only,  numerous  as  the  waves  ; 
Couldst  not  have  seen  my  maidens  throwing  down 
Their  fans  and  posies  (piteous  to  behold !) 
That  they  might  wring  their  hands  more  readily. 
I  was  too  faint  myself  to  still  their  cries. 

Antony  [aside."]     I  almost  thought  her  blameable 

[  To  Cleopatra,]  The  Gods 

So  will'd  it.     Thou  despondest .  .  .  too  aware 
The  day  is  lost 

Cleopatra,     The  day  may  have  been  lost. 
But  other  days,  and  happier  ones,  will  come. 

Antony.     Never :  when  those  so  high  once  fall,  their  weight 
Keeps  them  for  ever  down. 

Cleopatra,  Talk  reasonably. 

And  love  me  as  ...  til  now  ...  it  should  be  more, 
For  love  and  sorrow  mingle  where  they  meet, 

Antony.    It  shall  be  more.    Are  these  last  kisses  cold  ? 

Cleopatra,    Nor  cold  are  they  nor  shall  they  be  the  last 

Antony,     Promise  me,  Cleopatra,  one  thing  more. 

Cleopatra,     'Tis  promist,  and  now  tell  me  what  it  is. 

Antony,     Rememberest  thou  this  ring  ? 

Cleopatra.  Dost  thou  remember 

The  day,  my  Antony,  when  it  was  given  ? 

Antony,     Day  happiest  in  a  life  of  many  happy, 
And  all  thy  gift. 

Cleopatra,         'Tis  call'd  the  richest  ruby. 
The  heaviest,  and  the  deepest,  in  the  world. 

Antony.    The  richest  certainly. 

Cleopatra.  And  not  the  deepest 

And  broadest  ?    Look !  it  hides  all  this  large  nail. 


572 


APPENDIX 

And  mine  are  long  ones  if  not  Tcry  wide ; 
Now  let  me  see  if  it  don't  coro-  yours 
As  wide  again  !  there !  it  would  cover  two. 
Why  smile  you  so  ? 

Antony,  Because  I  know  its  story. 

CUopatra,     Ha  1  then  yon  have  not  lost  all  memory  qoite. 
I  told  it  jovL     The  king  of  Pontns  sent  it 
When  dying  to  my  father,  warning  him 
By  letter  that  there  was  a  charm  in  it 
Not  to  be  trifled  with. 

Antony,  It  shall  not  be. 

Cleopatra.     But  tell  me  now  the  promise  I  must  make ; 
What  has  the  ring  to  do  with  it  ? 

Antony,  All,  all. 

Know,  Cleopatra,  this  is  not  one  raby. 

Cleopatra.    The  value  then  is  smaller. 

Antony,  Say  not  so. 

Remark  the  rim. 

Cleopatra,        The  gold  is  thin,  I  see. 

Antony.    And  seest  thou  it  will  open  ?    It  contains 
Another  jewel  richer  than  itself. 

Cleopatra.     Impossible !  my  Antony !  for  rubies 
Are  richer  than  all  other  gems  on  earth. 

Antony.     Now,  my  sweet  trifler,  for  thy  promise. 

Cleopatra.  Speak. 

By  all  the  Powers  above  and  all  below, 
I  will  perform  thy  bidding,  even  to  death. 

Antony.     To  death  it  goes  ;  not  until  after  mine. 

Cleopatra.     I  kiss  the  precious  chann.     Methinks  an  odor 
Of  almond  comes  from  iL     How  sweet  the  flower 
Of  death  I 

Antony.     'Tis  painless  death,  'tis  sudden  too. 

Cleopatra,     Who  could  wish  more,  even  were  there  more  to  wish  ? 
With  us  there  is  not 

Antony,  Generous,  pious  girl ! 

Daughter  of  Ptolemies  1  thou  hast  not  won 
A  lower  man  than  they.    Thy  name  shall  rise 
Above  the  pyramids,  above  the  stars, 
Nations  yet  wild  shall  that  name  civilize. 
And  glorious  poets  shake  their  theaters. 
And  stagger  kings  and  emperors  with  applause. 

Cleopatra,     I  was  not  bom  to  die  ;  but  I  was  bom 
To  leave  the  world  with  Antony,  and  wilL 

Antony,    The  greatest  of  all  eastern  kings  died  thus^ 
The  greater  than  all  eastern  kings  thus  died. 
O  glorious  foigeman  who  couldst  rivet  down 
Refractory  crowds  by  thousands,  and  make  quake 
Scepters  like  reeds !  we  want  not  here  thy  voice 
Or  thy  example.     Antony  alone 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— LANDOR  573 

And  queenly  pride,  tho'  Love  were  domb,  would  do. 

Scene  the  Fourth. 
Cleopatra.  Charmian.   Iras. 

Cleopatra,    At  the  first  entrance  of  your  lord,  before 
He  ordered  you,  before  he  spake  a  word. 
Why  did  ye  run  away  ? 

Charmian,  I  was  afraid. 

Never  so  in  my  life ;  he  lookt  so  fierce 
He  fear'd  his  own  wild  eyes,  he  placed  one  hand 
(His  right)  across  them  on  lowered  brow,  his  left 
Waved  us  away  as  would  a  hurricane 
A  palm-tree  on  the  desert. 

Cleopatra,  [to  Iras,'\  And  wert  thou, 

Iras,  so  terrified  ? 

Iras,  Not  I  indeed ; 

My  lady,  never  man  shall  frighten  me, 

Cleopatra,    Thou  silly  creature !     I  have  seen  a  mouse 
Doit 

Iras,     A  mouse  is  quite  another  thing. 

Charmian.  [hesitating.']  Our  lord  and  master  . .  . 

Cleopatra.  What  of  Antony  ? 

Charmian.     Octavius  .  . 

Cleopatra,  Who  ?    Our  lord  and  master  he  ? 

He  never  shall  be  mine  •  .  that  is  to  say  .  . 

Charmian,     What!  lady? 

Cleopatra,  I  forget .  .  'twas  not  worth  saying. 

Charmian !  where  hast  thou  been  this  last  half-hour  ? 

Charmian,    In  my  own  room. 

Cleopatra,  So  fearful  ? 

Charmian,  Far  more  sad. 

Cleopatra.     Where,  Iras,  thou  ? 

Iras,  I  wanted  to  report 

To  my  sweet  lady  what  I  might  espy. 

Cleopatra,    And  what  have  those  long  narrow  eyes  espied  ? 

Iras.    All. 

Cleopatra.    'Twas  done  speedily ;  but  what  is  all  ? 
Army  and  fleet  from  any  terrace-roof 
Are  quite  discernible,  the  separate  men 
Nowhere. 

Iras.     My  heart  has  told  me  what  delight 
Its  queen  would  feel  to  hear  exactly  how 
The  leaders  look. 

Cleopatra.  And  how  then  did  they  look  ? 

Tell  me ;  some  might  have  ridden  near  enough. 
The  town  to  judge  by,  where  the  sight  is  sharp. 

Iras,     Merciful  Isis !  ridden  I  and  so  close  ! 
Horses  are  frightful,  horses  Idck  and  rear 
And  whinny,  full  of  wickedness;  'twere  rash 
To  venture  nigh  them. 


( 


S7A 


APPENDIX 


CUepatra,  There  are  tlmip 

Irai.    Quieter  cxatarcs  than  those  gmcriU 


Qiupatfo.  lUifariant !  not  a  word 

Aboat  them,  Ixas^  if  thoa  k>vcft  me; 
Thej  would  destroy  mj  city,  sciae  1117  reala. 
And  ram  him  we  live  for. 

Irms.  Sorei J  00  ; 

It  were  a  pitj ;  none  are  so  onkind ; 
Caesar  the  least  of  alL 

Q^prntTA,  Ah  smple  child ! 

Thoa  knowcst  not  his  heart. 

Akt.  I  do  indceyj. 

CUopatrm.    No,  nor  thy  own. 

Jrms.  His  better  ;  for  of  miae 

I  never  askt  a  qoeitioa.     He  himsHf 
Told  me  how  good  he  would  be. 

Cleopatra,  He  told /4m/ 

What!  hast  thoa  seen  him? 

Irms.  Aye,  and  faot  to  hat^ 

Qoae  as  cor  lord's  to  yoas. 

CUaprntTA.  O  impodence ! 

Iras.     Bat  he  woald  have  it  so ;  jost  like  our  lofd. 

Oeopaira,     Impsdent  gxri !  thoa  shalt  be  whipt  for  thi& 

Iras.    I  am  too  old ;  bat  lotoses  don't  hmt 
like  other  things;  they  cool  the  strokes  they  g;hre. 

Clecpatra,    I  have  no  patiencr  with  thee.     How  I  hate 
That  boy  Octavios ! Dared  be  Umch  thy  cheek  ? 

Iras.     He  coald ;  he  ooly  whispeicd  in  my  ear. 
Holding  it  by  the  ring. 

Cleopatra.  Whispered  ?  what  words  ? 

Iras.     The  kindest. 

CUopiUra.  Ah!  no  doabC I  bat  what  were  they? 

Iras.     He  said.  The  lordiest  creatnre  in  the  world  .  .  . 

Qeppatra.     The  vnlgar  brute !    Oar  fonymen  talk  90 : 
And  coakbt  thoa  listen,  Iras,  to  soch  speech? 

Iras.    Only  when  people  praise  oor  gracsoas  queen. 

Oeapatra.     Me  ?  this  of  me?     Thoa  didst  thy  doty,  diild 
He  mi^it  hare  (aiPd  in  what  he  would  expresa. 
The  birds  have  different  voices,  yet  we  bear 
To  hear  those  sing  which  do  not  sing  the  best. 
Iras !  I  never  thoaght  thee  half  so  wise. 
And  sov  he  said  those  gentle  words  oi  mt  f 

Iras.     All,  and  foigot  to  ktis  me  when  I  vow'd 
I  would  report  them  foithfolly. 

CUapatra.  Is  there 

Resemblance  in  him  to  that  marble  image 
I  would  have  broken,  but  my  Antony 
Seiz'd  both  my  hands? 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS— LANDOR  575 

Iras,  Alas !  that  image  wants 

The  radiant  eyes,  and  hair  more  radiant  still, 
Such  as  Apollo's  may  have  been  if  mjnh. 
Were  sprinkled  into  its  redundant  waves. 

CUopatra,    He  must  be  tenderer  than  I  fancied  him 
If  this  be  true. 

Iras,  He  spoke  those  very  words. 

Cleopatra.     Iras !  'tis  vain  to  mind  the  words  of  men ; 
But  if  he  lookt  as  thou  hast  said  he  lookt, 
I  think  I  may  put  trust  in  him. 

Iras,  And  see  him  ? 

Cleopatra,     I  am  not  hasty. 

Iras.  If  you  could  but  see  him ! 

Cleopatra,     Gdl  Charmian  :  I  am  weary  :  I  must  rest 
Awhile. 

Iras,     My  sweetest  lady  !  could  not  I, 
Who  have  been  used  to  it  almost  a  year, 
Help  you  as  well  as  Charmian  ?    While  you  sleep 
Could  I  not  go  again  and  bid  him  haste 
To  comfort  you  ? 

Cleopatra,     Is  the  girl  mad  ?    Call  Charmian. 
[  To  Charmian.]  Charmian  !  hath  Iras  tickled  thee  away 
From  moping  in  thy  chamber  ?  thou  hast  sped. 

Charmian,     Iras  is  growing  bold. 

Cleopatra,  I  was  bold  too 

While  I  was  innocent  as  Iras  is. 

Charmian,     Our  lady  looks  more  flurried  than  deprest 

Cleopatra,     I  am  not  flurried,  I  am  not  deprest 
[After  a  pause."]  Believest  thou  in  Caesar's  generosity? 

Charmian,     I  know  it. 

Cleopatra,  In  what  matter  ? 

Charmian.  Half  the  guards 

And  half  the  ministers  of  state  have  shown 
Signs  of  his  bounty  to  the  other  half. 

Cleopatra.    Gifts  are  poor  sig^s  of  bounty.     Do  not  slaves 
Slip  off  the  gold-black  pouches  from  their  necks 
Untied  but  to  buy  other  slaves  therewith  ? 
Do  not  tame  creatures  lure  into  the  trap 
Their  wilder  brethren  with  some  filthy  bait  ? 
All  want  companions,  and  the  worst  the  most. 
I  am  much  troubled  :  even  hope  troubles  me. 

Charmian,     I  dare  not  ask  our  l&dy  why  she  weeps. 

Cleopatra,     Csesarion,  my  first-bom,  my  dearest  one, 
Is  safely  shielded  by  his  father's  name  : 
He  loves  his  brothers,  he  may  s.nve  them  both. 
He  only  can  :  I  would  fain  take  the  advice 
Of  Dolabella,  fain  would  venture  him 
In  Caesar's  camp  :  the  father's  voice  and  look 
Must  melt  him,  for  his  heart  is  not  so  hard 


576 


APPENDIX 

'  That  he  could  hurt  so  beaotifiil  a  child ; 
Nay,  what  man's  is  ? 

Ckarwnan.  Bat  tmst  not  the  two  joimger ; 

Tkrir  £Bther  will  not  hdp  them  in  their  need. 

Cleopatra.     Caesarion  in  fit  hour  will  plead  for  thcDL 
Channian,  what  ponderest  thoa  ?  what  doabtest  thon? 

CkartmiaM,     Caesar  I  doubt,  and  Dolabella  more ; 
And  what  I  pondered  were  yoor  words :  It  wu^  ie 
That  givers  are  met  always  henefadars. 

Clecpatra.     I  have  one  secret,  but  keep  none  from  ibrr  : 
He  lores  me ! 

Charmian.     AD  do. 

Qeepatra.  Yes,  but  some  have  power. 

Ckarmiam.     Power,  as  most  power  is,  gained  bj  treadieiy. 

Otopatra.  WhoB^ 

In  Egypt,  Europe,  Asia,  can  I  tmst? 

Ckarmiatt,     Few,  ncx*  those  few  too  ^,  nor  without  watck. 

Cleopatra.     Not  Charmian  ? 

Ckarmiam.     Bid  her  die ;  here ;  now  ;  and  p>dge. 

Scene  the  Tenth. 
Eeos  cmd  Antony. 

Amtamy.     Eros !  I  speak  thee  welcome. 

Erm,  Hail,  am-  kxd ! 

Amttmy.     Thoo  hast  been  ever  fuddiil  to  thy  tnost. 
And  spoken  fred  j,  bat  deoovonsly. 
On  what  ooooan'd  ^k  boowhoid  and  the  slate. 
My  glocy  is  gone  down,  and  life  is  cold 
Without  tL     I  haiw  known  two  honest  men 
Among  the  wnators  and  oonsnlais  . . . 

Eros.     None  among  hmnbkr? 

Amtemy.  By  the  Powea  above ! 

I  thoi^|ht  bat  of  the  powei&l,  men  of  bsxth. 

En&.     All  nxn  are  that.     Some  sink  b^ow  dteir  cradle, 
Odters  lise  higher  than  parental  rooi. 
And  want  no  scq>ler  to  suppuit  taas  steps. 

Amtmn:     Soch  there  may  be  whom  we  have  all  past  by. 

Erai.     Men  cast  long  siiadows  when  their  life  drrlmrSfc 
Whk^  we  cross  over  widioat  noticing; 
We  met  them  in  the  street  and  gave  not  wi^. 
When  diKv  were  gone  we  lifted  op  both  hands. 
And  said  to  neighbon  Tlexr  wtrr  wum  imdeed! 

Amttmi,     Kcflectinps  snA  as  thine  bad  weaned 
Erewbik,  and  iram  anorher  even  now; 
Bat  what  is  due  dMn  brxngest  me  wnpti^ 
Tardy  in  ofiienn^:  i:  as  worth  too  Btde? 

E*rf&,    1  inng  a  niby  and  a  boQow  zn^ 
Whereon  itnned. 

Amtrm.  Gods  of  Rone !  «t  last 

Ye  mi^  me  gmefaiL    Thanks,  snd  ^lanks  akme. 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^LANDOR  577 

'  Have  I  to  give,  and  one  small  sacrifice ; 
I  TOW  it  you  before  this  hour  is  past. 
My  heart  may  beat  against  its  bars  awhile 

But  shall  not  leave  me  yet. Go,  Eros,  go, 

I  must  lie  down  and  rest,  feeble  and  faint. 
But  come  back  presently. 

Eros,     [oftft^  some  absence,'\     How  fares  our  lord? 

Antony,     Recovered,  sound  again,  more  sound  than  ever. 

Eros,    And  yet  our  lord  looks  more  like  other  men. 

Antony,  \smUing,'\     We  can  not  always  swagger,  always  act 
A  character  the  wise  will  never  learn : 
When  Night  goes  down,  and  the  young  Day  resumes 
His  pointed  shafts,  and  chill  air  breathes  around. 
Then  we  put  on  our  own  habiliments 
And  leave  the  dusty  stage  we  proudly  trod. 
I  have  been  sitting  longer  at  life's  feast 
Than  does  me  good ;  I  will  arise  and  go. 
Philosophy  would  flatten  her  thin  palm 
Outspred  upon  my  sleeve ;  away  with  her ! 
Cuff  off,  cuff  out,  that  chattering  toothless  jade ! 
The  brain  she  puzzles,  and  she  blunts  the  sword : 
Even  she  knows  better  words  than  that  word  live. 
Cold  Cato,  colder  Brutus,  guide  not  me ; 
No,  nor  brave  Cassius. Thou  hast  brought  me  balm. 

Eros,    Our  lord  may  have  some  message  for  the  giver, 
Which  will  console  her. 

Antony,  She  expected  none: 

I  did  ;  and  it  is  come. Say,  lookt  she  pale  ? 

Spake  she  no  word  ? 

Eros,  Alas,  most  noble  sir. 

She  would  not  see  me.     Charmian  said  her  face 
Was  indeed  pale,  yet  grew  less  pale  than  usual 
After  she  gave  the  ring,  and  then  she  spake 
Amid  some  sighs  (some  spasms  too  interposed) 
More  cheerfully,  and  said  she  fain  would  sleep. 

Antony,     The  fondest  heart,  the  truest,  beats  no  more. 
She  listened  to  me,  she  hath  answered  me, 
She  wanted  no  entreaty,  she  obeyed. 
She  now  commands :  but  no  command  want  I. 
Queen  of  my  soul !     I  follow  in  thy  train, 

Thine  is  the  triumph. Eros,  up  !  rejoice! 

Tears,  man !  do  tears  become  us  at  this  hour  ? 
I  never  had  too  many ;  thou  hast  seen 

(If  thou  didst  see)  the  last  of  them. My  sword! 

I  will  march  out  becomingly. 

Eros,  O  sir  I 

Enemies  watch  all  round,  and  famine  waits 
Within. 

Antony,     Thou  knowest  not  the  prudent  sons 

37 


578  APPENDIX 

*  Of  Egypt ;  com  and  wine  have  been  supplied 
Enough  for  many  years,  piled  underground. 
Tho'  stiffened  by  the  sludge  of  barbarism. 
Or  indolent  and  overgorged  at  home, 
Briton  or  German  would  take  heed  that  none 
Who  fought  for  him  should  perish  for  the  lack 
Of  sustenance  :  the  timid  bird  herself 
Will  hover  round  and  round  until  she  bring 
The  grain  cried  out  for  in  the  helpless  nest. 
Give  me  my  sword  !     Is  the  point  sharp  ? 

Eros,  In  vain 

To  trust  it  now  ! 

Antony.     Come,  bring  it ;  let  me  try  it. 

Eros.     O  heavens  and  earth  !     Help  I  help !  no  help  is  nigh, 
No  duty  left  but  one  :  less  worthily 

Than  willingly  this  duty  I  perform.  \^Siabs  himself. 

It  pains  not :  for  that  blood  I  see  no  more.' 

Cleopatra^  A  Tragedy  in  one  Act,  by  G.  Conrad  (a  name  assumed,  according  to 
MOKLLER,  by  Prince  George  of  Prussia,  of  whom  I  know  nothing  further),  appeared 
in  1868.  It  is  in  three  Scenes;  the  first  two  are  skilfully  devised  to  introduce  the 
third  and  most  important.  In  the  first  a  dialogue  between  Iras  and  Charmion,  who 
bears  a  covered  basket  of  flowers  wherein  lie  the  asps,  sets  forth  the  resolution  of 
the  queen  to  die,  and  gives  occasion  to  describe  the  past  glories  of  the  voyage  on 
the  Cydnus,  their  brilliant  feasts,  Antony's  death,  and  Cleopatra's  bearing  toward 
Augustus.  In  the  second  we  have  an  ardent  love-scene  beween  the  queen  and  Dola- 
bella,  wherein  the  latter  is  the  impassioned  lover.  As  a  proof  of  his  devotion,  he 
divulges  the  secret  that  Augustus  is  resolved  to  lead  the  queen  in  triumph  in  Rome, 
for  which  Dolabella  hates  him  and  implores  Cleopatra  to  fly  with  himself  to  some 
paradise,  where,  amid  perfume  and  flowers,  raptures  and  delight,  intoxicated  with 
transports,  they  can  lose  and  forget  the  world.  The  queen  promises  to  give  him  an 
answer  before  the  night  is  over,  and  calls  him  her  *  beloved  one'  as,  at  the  approach 
of  Augustus,  she  bids  him  a  hurried  farewell.  In  the  third  Scene  Augustus  enters, 
cold,  distant,  and  haughty.  In  the  dialogue  which  follows  we  find  that  Augustus 
represents  patriotism,  the  prosaic,  sterner  virtues,  and  simplicity,  not  unalloyed  with 
severity  and  over- weening  ambition  ;  Cleopatra  represents  the  poesy  of  life,  the  joy- 
ousness  of  art,  of  love,  of  sensuous  delights,  the  artist's  vision  and  the  poet's  dream. 
The  Egyptian  queen  invites  her  Roman  conqueror  to  enter  this  world  of  happiness 
which  all  are  struggling  to  attain.  The  Spartan  virtues  are  no  longer  practised ; 
renunciation  and  submission  are  a  weariness.  But  Augustus  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  all 
her  allurements  and  asserts  that  'undeterred  he  will  pursue  his  aims.'  Thereupon 
Cleopatra  replies : 

*  But  trust  in  me,  and  thou  shalt  still  be  happy. 

Before  thee  shall  unfold  an  unknown  life, 

So  full,  so  fair,  like  nothing  else  on  earth. 

Where  every  pain,  and  every  care  is  hushed ; 

The  might  of  beauty,  and  the  glow  of  passion. 

The  fairest  bloom  of  shape,  and  all  the  joy. 

To  thee  unknown,  of  sweet  and  magic  hours, 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS—CONRAD  579 

*  All  these  await  thee ;  and  ecstatic  joy 
Will  waft  its  glowing  flames  about  thy  heart. 

0  haughty  yictor !  thou  art  mine !  Thou  canst 

Not  now  withstand  me !  [Ske  turns  toward  Aim,  as  vntk  thi 

Augustus.     Dare  I,  Cle6patra,  put  trust  in  thee  ?  keenest  rapture, 

Cleopatra,     And  dost  thou  doubt  me  still  ?     What  shall  I  do 

To  put  far  from  thee  all  suspicion  ? 

Dost  thou  desire  my  crown  ?     I  will  exchange  it 

For  my  victor's  love.     Speak !  Dost  trust  me  now  ? 

Must  I  e'en  follow  thee  to  Rome?     I*m  ready. 

Thou  dost  not  shake  thy  head.     Dare  I  then  hope  ?  .  .  . 

That  I  did  hate  thee  once,  I'll  not  deny. 

Nay,  I  have  even  wished  thy  death.     But  now 

'Tis  far,  far  different ;  it  is  thy  mien 

That  now  has  vanquished  me. 

Augustus.     Art  thou  so  fickle,  queen  ?     How  else  can  I 

Explain  this  wondrous  transformation  ? 

Cleopatra,     Oh,  take  me  with  thee !     I  am  wholly  thine ! 

1  know, — I  feel  that  numbered  are  my  hours ; 
Too  keen  have  been  my  sufferings  of  late ! 
My  life  has  been  a  never-ending  fray. 

Oh,  take  me  with  thee,  that  my  dying  eyes 

May  rest  on  thine ;  in  gold  and  purple  sheen 

My  sun  will  set,  if  I'm  beloved  by  thee !  .  .  .  [She  turns  to  him,  as  though 

[Aside,'\  He  stands  unmoved  I     Disgrace  inefiable !  inspired, 

Augustus.     Let's  change  the  subject.     The  royal  treasure 
Appears,  together  with  the  Real  Estate, 
To  be  important. — How  large  the  revenue  ? 

Cleopatra,  [with  scorn."]  Take  what  thou  wilt. — My  sorcery  is  o'er. 

This  grovelling  nature  is  to  me  abhorrent. 

What  knows  the  blind  man  of  the  light  of  heaven  ?  .  .  . 

Thou  praisest  virtue  but  thou  show'st  it  never. 

Thou  speak'st  of  Rome,  but  seekest  thine  own  glory. 

From  thee  will  spring  the  abhorrent  riile  of  lies ! 

The  triumph  of  vainglorious  deceit !  [She  turns  angrily  mtoay, 

«  «  «  « 

Dost  thou  believe  the  thought  can  e'er  aflfiright  me 

Of  following  thee  to  Rome  ?     Does  there  not  glow. 

E'en  now  in  Roman  breasts,  the  hope 

Of  seeing  me,  their  foe,  in  thy  triumphal  train  ? 

Then  take  me  with  thee  !     Do  but  make  the  trial ! 

I  will  outshine  the  conqueror  himself. 

And  every  Roman  cheer  will  be  for  me. 

Augustus.     I  am  thy  lord.     To  me  is  Rome  devoted. 

Cleopatra.     Destruction  on  thee  and  on  all  like  thee ! 
Destruction  light  on  all  such  grovelling  souls ! 
To  rulers,  such  as  thou,  the  god  who  guides 
The  destinies  of  man  can  ne'er  prove  gracious. 
'Tis  falseness  that  is  gnawing  at  thy  greatness, 


~X  SI  Sk  s.  ssxkes:  x:  tie  roe  if 
3m:  mwimlr  ««s:  inn.  tirni  j&i 


JUTTtDl.   MiV^  JKOSLUSt. 

u  jHr  ts£'  amr   araa:-  xizn^mm- 
o   TTitMutrc '-.  JCC7IX3 

xr  ti*^  Will,  acEBPaKSL- 


jAr  o    fir  jKk*'  ' 


DRAMATIC  VERSIONS^DINGELSTEDT  581 

*  Away,  thou  yenom'd  boa-constrictor !  \^IC5nig55chlange\ 

I'll  tear  me  free  from  thine  embracing  coils 

Before  thou  sting'st  me !     Away  !  Away,  I  say !     [He  dashes  out.     Eros  fol- 
lows,    Cleopatra  collapses.     But  after  a  pause,  she  arises^  and  with  a 
demoniac  expression  of  face,  gazes  scornfully  after  Antony,  thereby  dis- 
closing the  growth  in  her  mind  of  her  resolve  to  desert  him,* 
When,  in  the  next  Scene,  Antony  orders  Thyreus  to  be  taken  away  and  whipped, 
*  Cleopatra  wrings  her  hands,*  and  when  Antony  continues  to  storm  against  her,  she 

interrupts  with,  *  This,  to  me !  darest  thou *     *  Forsooth,  this  is  enough  !  *  as 

she  utters  this  latter  exclamation  she  advances  passionately  toward  Antony.*   Alexas, 
Charmian,  and  Iras  interpose  with  '  O  Queen  1  * 

'  Cleop,     Back  !  and  dare  not  to  interpose  yourselves 

Betwixt  that  man  and  me  !     [  Then  in  crushing 

tones  to  Ant.']  And  who,  pray,  then  art  thou  ? 

That  art  so  high  and  mighty, — and  to  me  ! — 

That  dar*st  reproach  me  with  disgrace  and  shame ! — 

Thou,  sunk  and  lost  in  deep  dishonour  !  [Ant,  collapses  on  a  couch. 

I  am  a  queen  !     But  thou  art  less  than  nothing ! 

AMiere  now,  Triumvir,  bides  thy  host,  thy  fleet  ? 

Where,  pattern  of  a  husband,  is  thy  wife  ? 

Speak! 

Did'st  thou  not  break  thy  vows,  deep-sworn  to  me. 

And,  with  dishonour,  bind  thyself  afresh 

Before  from  old  bonds  thou  had'st  yet  been  freed  ? 

And  now, — or  do  I  dream  it? — thou  would* st  leave 

Me  here  deserted,  for  another's  arms, 

Betrayed,  behind  my  back,  for  vile  advantage  ? 

What !     Thou  a  man,  and  let*st  the  stripling  Csesai 

With  help  of  that  gross  hypocrite,  his  sister, 

Enmesh  thee  with  his  stupid  clumsy  snares, 

Which  artfully  he  throws  about  thy  horns. 

What !     Thou  a  hero,  and,  at  battle's  height, 

With  victory  at  hand,  thou  runn'st  away, 

Deserting  armies,  fortune,  and  thyself, 

Because a  woman  left  thee  I     A  Ruler ! 

Thou  !  thou,  who  canst  not  even  rule  thy  heart  I 

Thou  wretched  Roman,  learn  thou  here  from  me, 

A  queen  from  out  the  thousand-year-old  race 

Of  Ptolemies, — of  Egypt's  sacred  soil 

A  worthy  daughter, — learn  how  death  is  wooed 

When  one  can  live  no  longer  without  honour!         [Exit  grandly  and  with  a 

Ant,  [beside  himself]  Cleopatra ! — After  her ! — But  no, —     commanding  air. 

Too  late !     We'll  ne'er  again  be  as  we  were. 

And  she  is  right :  there's  nought  remains  but— death.' — ^p.  X07. 
Eros  here  enters  with  Thyreus.     Antony  sends  by  the  latter  his  persona]  chal- 
lenge to  Qesar. 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  follow  the  rest  of  the  version,  step  by  step  or  Scene  by 
Scene.  Caesar  in  his  camp  before  Alexandria  tells  Maecenas  that  on  the  morrow  the 
city  shall  be  stormed,  if  need  be ;  then  smilingly  adds,  <  And  yet  I  hardly  think  it. 


582 


APPENDIX 


*  It  is  not  battering  nuns,  but  tender  fingers 

That  will  throw  open  wide  the  gates  for  as.       \AU regard kimenqmrimgiy. 

My  messenger,  whom  Antony  had  whipped. 

Has  cruelly  revenged  himself.     He  stole 

The  sole  thing  Antony  had  left — Cledpatra. 

She  sent  as,  by  Thyreus,  full  submission 

And  made  an  offer  of  a  firm  alliance. 

For  which  she  asks  no  further  for  herself. 

Or  even  for  her  sons,  but  Egypt's  crown.  \AU  are  astonished. 

Well,  well,  that  will  come  round,  of  coarse.     Meanwhile 

No  aid  to  Antony  will  she  supply ; 

Nay  and  perchance  she'll  give  him  up  to  us. 

Although  we  arm,  there  will  not  be  a  battle. 

I  hope  Anton  i  us  will  be  taken  prisoner. 

He*ll  prove  attractive  in  our  Rcxnan  triumph. 

His  exhibition  do  I  owe  my  city.' — p.  Ii6. 
The  Scene  changes  to  Cleopatra's  palace.     Alezas  telb  Cleopatzm  that  Antony  is 
Inrioas  against  her,  and  for  safety  conveys  her  to  the  royal  Pyramids.     Antony  eniers ; 
be  has  been  ransacking  the  palace  to  find  Qecpatra  and  wreak  his  reogeance  on  her, 
— *  he  is  in  full  armour  and  beside  himself,'  and  calls : 

*  Where  art  thou  now,  Qe6patra  ?     Tboo  Fury 
Of  Hades,  where  dost  keep  thyself  bestowed  ? 
Triple-turned  wanton,  I  am  seeking  thee. 

To  be  revenged  on  thee, — to  panish  thee  ! 
On  thee  alone  I  now  am  waging  war, — 
A  war  for  life  or  death !     Thy  blood,  thy  warm. 
Sweet,  treacheroas  blood,  this  do  I  long  to  quaff! ' — p.  129^ 
There  is  not  an  alarming  amount  of  perversion  in  Eros*s  suicide,  nor  in  Antony's 
attempt  to  imitate  him.     As  Antony  lies  in  a  swoon,  Qeopatra  rushes  in,  and  with 
*■  a  piercing  shriek,*  exclaims,  *  Antonios — dead  ? '     Her  outcry  arooses  Antony,  who 
raises  himself,  and  addresses  her, 

'  Is  't  tboo,  Qe6patra?     Hast  thou  from  Orcus, 
Returned  to  fetch  thy  dilatory  friend  ? 

Cleitp.     No.  Fm  not  dead,  and  neither  shalt  thou  die ! 
rU  wake  thee  back  to  life,  e'en  with  my  kissing. 

Ant,  \lookit^  vaguely  abamt^  notices  AUxas7\  *Twas  he  who  said  just  now, 

thoa'dst  killed  thvself  ? 
Cleop,     He  Ued. 

Ant,    Even  here  in  death,  more  lies, — lies, — lies !  \^He  turns  kstmselffr^m 
Gecp.     Oh,  would  that  I  had  followed  him !  I  tbo«^ht        ker  at  disgmt. 
That  I  could  thus  best  win  my  friend  again ! 

Ant.     And  therefore  die  !     B^iold — I  do  not  lie, 

My  death  is  reaL     My  sight  begins  to  swim, 

Wliere  art  thou,  Qeopatra  ? 

Cletff.  Here  to  Ixg 

Forgiveness  on  my  knees. 

Ant.                     Thou  art  forgiven  .  .  . 
.Mready  modi  in  life  I  have  fiorgiveo  thee. 
And  now  . . .  in  death evenrtiunc!' 


A  CTORS-^KNIGNT.     DA  VIES  5  83 

Hereupon  follows  a  weak  version  of  Antonyms  last  speech,  with  omissions  and 
insignificant  additions.  The  Scene  of  the  Fifth  Act  lies  inside  a  pjrramid,  with 
mummies  in  niches  in  the  walls.  Antony's  body  lies  on  a  catafalque  in  the  middle. 
Maecenas  falls  desp>erately  in  love  with  Cleopatra ;  she  repels  him,  but  appeals  to 
him  to  discover  Caesar's  intentions  with  regard  to  her  future.  She  learns  that  she  is 
to  be  led  in  triumph  at  Rome.  All  the  chief  features  of  her  death  Scene  are  pre- 
served, as  in  Shakespeare. 

ACTORS 

The  present  play  of  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  is  barren,  indeed,  of  adequate  records 
of  the  few  actors  and  actresses  who  have  performed  it.  The  dates  of  the  revivals 
may  be  found  in  Genest.  Comments  on  the  revivals  themselves  are,  in  the  Intro- 
duction to  the  play  in  Irving' s  Edition^  set  forth  as  follows  : 

Joseph  Knight  (ed.  Irving,  Introduction,  p.  115):  Between  1704  and  1706, 
according  to  Downes,  four  plays,  to  be  acted  by  the  players  of  both  companies — 
Drury  Lane  and  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields — were  commanded  at  Court  First  among 
these  was  All  for  Love,  in  which  Betterton  appeared  as  Antony,  Verbruggen  as  Ven- 
tidius,  Wilks  as  Dolabella,  Booth  as  Alexas,  Mrs  Barry  as  Cleopatra,  and  Mrs  Brace- 
girdle  as  Octavia.  Concerning  these  representations  Downes  says,  with  every  prob- 
ability of  truth  in  his  favour,  *  These  four  plays  were  well  acted  and  gave  great  satis* 

*  faction.'  On  3rd  December,  17 18,  at  Drury  Lane,  when  the  management  of  Cib- 
ber,  Wilks,  and  Booth  was  at  the  height  of  its  good  fortune,  an  important  revival 
took  place.  In  this  Barton  Booth  was  Antony  ;  Mills,  Ventidius ;  Wilks,  Dolabella ; 
Cibber,  Alexas;  Mrs  Oldfield,  Cleopatra;  and  Mrs  Porter,  Octavia.  Concerning  this 
revival  Col  ley  Cibber  says,  *  The  habits  of  that  tragedy  amounted  to  an  expense  of 

*  near  six  hundred  pounds ;  a  sum  unheard  of  for  many  years  before,  on  the  like 
•occasion'  (Apology/ii,  175,  176,  ed.  1889). 

[Of  this  same  revival  we  also  find  the  following : 

Thomas  Davies  (ii,  370)  :  In  Dryden's  All  for  Love,  Booth's  dignified  action 
and  forcible  elocution,  in  the  part  of  Antony,  attracted  the  public  to  that  heavy, 
though,  in  many  parts,  well  written  play,  six  nights  successively,  without  the  assist- 
ance of  pantomime,  or  farce,  which,  at  that  time,  was  esteemed  something  extraor- 
dinary. But,  indeed,  he  was  well  supported  by  an  Oldfield,  in  his  Cleopatra,  who, 
to  a  most  harmonious,  powerful  voice  and  fine  person,  added  grace  and  elegance  of 
gesture.  When  Booth  and  Oldfield  met  in  the  Second  Act,  their  dignity  of  deport- 
ment commanded  the  applause  and  approbation  of  the  most  judicious  critics.  When 
Antony  said  to  Cleopatra,  <  You  promised  me  your  silence,  and  you  break  it  Ere  I 

*  have  scarce  begun,' — this  check  was  so  well  understood  by  Oldfield,  and  answered 
with  such  propriety  of  behaviour,  that,  in  Shakespeare's  phrase,  her  <  bendings  were 
•adornings.'  The  elder  Mills  acted  Ventidius  with  the  true  spirit  of  a  rough  and 
generous  old  soldier.  To  render  the  play  as  acceptable  to  the  public  as  possible, 
Wilkes  took  the  trifling  part  of  Dolabella,  nor  did  Colley  Cibber  disdain  to  appear  in 
Alexas ;  these  parts  would  scarcely  be  accepted  now  by  third-rate  actors.  Still  to 
add  more  weight  to  the  performance,  Octavia  was  a  short  character  of  a  Scene  or 
two,  in  which  Mrs  Porter  drew  not  only  respect,  but  the  more  affecting  approbation 
of  tears,  from  the  audience.  Since  that  time,  All  for  Love  has  gradually  sunk  into 
forgetful ness.]  Knight  continues : 

While  Antony  and  Cleopatra  slept  for  another  seventy  years  Dryden's  play  was 


jg^  APPESDIX 

leriTed  at  Drary  Lane,  22Dd  Mar.,  1766,  with  Powdl  as  Anftoiij  and  Mn  Yates 

again  as  Qeopatim ;  and  once  more  at  the  same  boose,  still  mocler  Gavrick's  manage- 

ment,  17th  Dec,  1772,  wiih  Spranger  Barry  as  Antooj,  Mn  Barry  as  OctaTia,  and 

Miss  Younge,  for  the  first  time,  as  Cleopatra.     On  the  28th  of  the  IbUowing  March, 

at  Covent  Garden,  Mrs  Haztley,  whose  first  season  it  was»  made  ber  first  appearance 

as  Qeopatra  to  the  Antony  of  Smith  and  the  Doiabdla  of  Wroaghtoo.      With  Miss 

Yoonge  and  Smith  in  the  principal  paru  AU  for  Laoe  was  f^jed  at  Dmry  Lane  on 

1 2th  May,  1 775,  and  13th  March,  1776.    With  Smith  as  Antooy,  and  Miss  Yates  from 

Dmry  Lane  as  Cleopatra,  with  West  Diggcs  as  Ventidins,  and  Farren  as  Dolabella, 

it  was  given  at  CoTcnt  Garden  8lh  Jan.,  and  5th  Frf>.,  1779. 

In  Drydcn*s  AU  for  Love^  and  not  in  Shakespeare's  Antomy  and  CUopatrA,  Mis 
Siddons  essayed,  at  Drury  Lane,  5lh  May,  1788,  the  rharartrr  of  Oeopatia,  KemUe 
being  the  Antony;  Palmer,  Ventidius ;  Barrymore,  Dolabdla ;  and  Mrs  Ward, 
Octavia.  That  the  peiformance  by  Mrs  Siddons  of  a  character  so  suited  to  her 
powers  was  fine  may  be  assumed.  Not  being  in  Shakespeare,  however,  it  calls  for 
no  further  comment  than  the  sUtemcnt  that  Boaden  {Life  of  Sidd^ms,  ii,  243)  says 
that  she  showed  *  the  daring  atiocity  of  crime,'  and  adds,  with  sab-add  banter,  that 
•the  notion  of  frailty  was  visually  banished.'  Campbell  {Life  of  Siddons^  "t  '^) 
suggests  that  OcUvia  would  under  certain  conditions  have  been  a  better  part  for  the 
actress  than  Cleopatra ;  and  says  that  *  she  never  esublished  «*  the  Siren  of  the  Nile  " 

*  among  her  popular  characters.'  On  24th  May,  1790,  at  Covent  Garden,  Miss  Bnm- 
ton  played  Cleopatra  to  the  Antony  of  Holman;  and  on  12th  Jan.,  18 1 8,  at  Bath, 
Conway,  the  unfortunate  actor,  treated  with  so  much  perverse  oruelty  by  Hazlitt  and 
Theodore  Hook,  was  the  Antony  to  the  Qeopatra  of  Miss  Somerville,  afterwards 
Mrs  Bunn.  .  .  . 

In  November,  1833,  Macready  produced  at  Covent  Garden  an  acting  version  of 
Antony  and  CUopatra,  The  great  feature  of  the  revival  was  the  scenery  by  Clark- 
son  Stanfield.  [According  to  Macready' s  own  diary  the  revival  was  not  eminently 
successful.]  .  .  . 

Antony  and  Cleopatra  was  naturally  included  in  the  series  of  revivals  of  Shake- 
speare undertaken  by  the  Phelps  and  Greenwood  management  at  Sadler's  Wells.  It 
was  first  played  22nd  October,  1850,  with  Phelps  as  Antony,  G.  K.  Dickinson  as 
Octavius,  Henry  Marston  as  Sextus  Pompeius,  George  Kenrick  as  Enobarbus,  and 
Miss  Glyn  as  Cleopatra.  This  was  one  of  the  most  successful  of  the  Sadler's  Wells 
revivals,  and  elicited  much  approval.  Miss  Glyn's  performance  of  Qeopatra  was 
the  crowning  triumph  of  her  career.  In  personal  appearance  she  conformed  to  the 
requirements  of  Talfourd,  namely,  '  a  figure  of  voluptuous  majesty,  a  mingling  of 

*  dazzling  beauty  and  intellectual  command.'      In  her  death  scene  she  was  pro- 
nounced equal  to  Pasta. 

C.  E.  Pascok  {Dramatic  List,  London,  1880,  p.  X58)  :  In  portraying  the 
enchantress,  Cleopatra^  Miss  Glyn  had  occasion  to  draw  upon  the  entire  resources 
of  her  art.  The  variety  and  fascination  of  the  character  she  touched  to  admiration. 
The  caprice,  the  grace,  the  pride  of  the  character  were  exhibited  with  a  power  which 
exceeded  expectation.  It  was  evident  that  she  had  made  a  profound  and  industrious 
study  of  the  part.  The  whole  portrait  was  thrown  out  with  decision  and  force,  and 
richly  coloured.  Those  parts  in  which  dignity  and  anger  were  expressed — such  as 
the  interview  with  the  messenger  after  Antony's  second  marriage — were  given  with 
a  vehemence  and  power  corresponding  to  the  language  she  had  to  deliver.     But  it 


CA PELLS  VERSION  585 

was  in  the  Fifth  Act^  when  preparing  for  her  death,  that  the  better  phases  of  the 
character  and  the  more  reBned  parts  of  the  action  tested  the  fitness  of  the  actress  for 
this  assumption.  Indignant  majesty,  compulsory  resignation,  heroic  resolve,  and 
tender  memory,  were  all  adequately  pronounced.  The  death  itself  was  a  triumph. 
— Atherutum^  27  October,  1849. 

Ibid.  (p.  x6o)  :  After  some  years*  absence  from  the  stage,  in  May,  1867  [Miss 
Glyn]  reappeared  at  the  Princess's  Theatre,  as  Cleopatra^  and  according  to  TTie 
Athetueum  (May  18, 1867), '  the  triumph  of  the  evening  was  the  assumption  by  Miss 
<  Glyn  of  Cleopatra.     The  witchery  of  the  blandishments,  the  Asiatic  undulations  of 

*  the  form,  the  variety  of  the  enchantments,  the  changes  of  mood,  the  impetuous  pas- 

*  sion,  and  in  the  end  the  noble  resignation — all  these  points  were  brought  out  with 

*  an  accuracy  of  elocution  and  with  a  force  of  genius  which  left  no  doubt  on  the  mind 

*  that  Miss  Glyn  is  as  great  an  actress  as  ever  adorned  the  English  stage.* 

Anon.  {Athenaum,  27  Sept.,  1873)  :  A  man  need  scarcely  be  a  veteran  stage- 
goer  to  recollect  when  Miss  Glyn,  at  Sadler's  Wells,  gave  an  embodiment  of  Cleo- 
patra, which  came  as  near  a  realisation  of  the  <  serpent  of  old  Nile '  as  anything 
modem  art  can  afford.  This  impersonation  was  repeated  at  the  Standard  first,  and 
subsequently  at  the  Princess's,  with  no  alteration  of  Shakespeare's  text  [On  the 
revival  referred  to  in  this  notice,  Joseph  Knight  {Introd,  op,  at,,  p.  119)  has  the 
following  remarks]  :  Mr  James  Anderson  appeared  as  Antony,  and  Miss  Wallis,  then 
almost  a  debutante,  as  Cleopatra.  The  piece  had  been  arranged  with  a  view  to 
spectacular  effect,  and  with  no  very  reverend  hand,  by  Andrew  Halliday,  and  the 
general  cast  was  far  from  strong.  Mr  Anderson's  performance  of  Antony  was  pic- 
turesque and  vigorous,  but  old-fashioned  ;  Miss  Wallis' s  qualifications  for  Cleopatra 
did  not  extend  beyond  good  looks  and  some  elocutionary  ability,  and  the  production 
was  one  of  those  experiments  on  the  strength  of  which  Chatterton,  by  whom  it  was 
tried,  put  forward  the  famous  managerial  dictum  that  *  Shakespeare  spelt  ruin.' 

[For  the  latest  revival,  by  Mr  Tree,  see  p.  591.] 


CAPELL'S  VERSION 

The  Version  which  Edward  Capell  made  for  Garrick  has  the  following  title : 
«  Antony  and  Cleopatra  |  an  historical  Play,  \  written  by  \  Wiluam   Shake- 

*  spear  E:  \  fitted  for  the  Stage  by  abridging  only;  \  and  noiu  acted,  at  the  |  Theatre- 

*  Royal  in  jynxrj'Lane,  \  by  his  Majesty  s  Servants,  \  No  grave  upon  the  earth  shall 

*  clip  in  it  A  pair  so  famous,  p.  99.  |  London  :  |  Printed  for  J.  and  R.  ToNSON  in 
'  the  Strand,  |  MDCCLVIII.'     On  the  next  page  is  the  following : 

To  the  right  honourable,  and  worthy  of 
all  Titles,  the  Countess  of       *        * 
Why,  from  the  throne  where  beauty  sits  SUPREME 

and  countless  emanations  deals  below, 
infus'd  and  fixM  in  Woman's  shining  frame, 
doth  so  large  portion  of  his  wonder  flow  ? 
why,  but  to  rule  the  tread  of  human  woe, 
and  point  our  erring  feet  where  joys  abide : 
But  (ah,  the  pity !)  to  a  traitor  flame, 
weak,  wavering,  wild,  the  heav'n-bom  ray  is  ty'd, 
and  man,  confiding  man,  firom  bliss  estranged  wide. 


586 


APPENDIX 

Daughters  of  Britain,  scorn  the  garish  6re, 
exile  the  meteor  to  it's  Pharian  grave  ; 

sincere r  flames  from  Virtue's  heights  aspire, 

that  brighten  beauty,  and  from  sorrow  save  : 
High  o'er  the  rest,  see,  what  fair  hand  doth  i^rave 

a  deathless  torch;  and  calls  you  to  the  shrine, 

where  only  beauty  only  bliss  entire ! 

follow  the  branch  of  much-lov'd  *     **s  line, 
and  from  those  altars  mend,  with  her,  the  ray  divine. 

Oct  3d  1757. 

In  the  Textual  Notes  on  the  preceding  pages,  the  various  readings  of  this  Versiam, 
where  they  decidedly  differ  from  Capell's  own  text,  are  duly  recorded.  To  avoid 
confusion  I  have  designated  this  Version  as  Garrick's,  abbreviated  'Gar.*  It  has 
received  the  following  notices: 

T.  Davies  (ii,  369) :  Antony  and  Cleopatra  had  long  lain  dormant,  I  beliere  ever 
since  it  was  first  exhibited,  when,  about  the  year  1760,  Mr  Garrick,  from  his  passion- 
ate desire  to  give  the  public  as  much  of  their  admired  poet  as  possible,  revived  it,  as 
altered  by  Mr  Capell,  with  all  the  advantages  of  new  scenes,  habits,  and  other  deco- 
rations proper  to  the  play.     However,  it  did  not  answer  his  own  and  the  public 
expectation.     It  must  be  confessed,  that,  in  Antony,  he  wanted  one  necessary  accom- 
plishment :  his  person  was  not  sufficiently  important  and  commanding  to  represent 
the  part.     There  is  more  dignity  of  action  than  variety  of  passion  in  the  character, 
though  it  is  not  deficient  in  the  latter.     The  actor,  who  is  obliged  continually  to 
traverse  the  stage,  should  from  person  attract  respect,  as  well  as  from  the  power  of 
speech.     Mrs  Yates  was  then  a  young  actress,  and  had  not  manifested  such  pxoofis 
of  genius,  and  such  admirable  elocution,  as  she  has  since  displayed  :  but  her  fine 
figure  and  pleasing  manner  of  speaking  were  well  adapted  to  the  enchanting  Cleo- 
patra.    Mossop  wanted  the  essential  part  of  Enobarbus,  humour. 

J.  Genkst  (Vol.  iv,  p.  544,  D.L.,  1 758-1 759)  :  Shakspeare's  play,  acted  six 
times,  was  adapted  to  the  stage  by  abridging  and  transposing  only, — Capell's  alter- 
ation is  judicious  on  the  whole,  but  might  have  been  better, — for  the  convenience  of 
representation  it  was  right  to  reduce  the  number  of  characters,  but  this  is  done  with- 
out any  regard  to  propriety — the  speech  with  which  Philo  opens  the  play,  and  the 
famous  description  of  Cleopatra  on  the  Cydnus  (taken  from  Enobarbus)  are  given  to 
Thyreiis — if  a  change  were  to  be  made  it  should  certainly  have  been  made  in  favour 
of  some  Roman  of  consequence  on  Antony's  side,  not  in  favour  of  ThyreQs,  who  was 
Caesar's  freedman,  and  who  had  never  seen  Cleopatra  till  he  was  sent  with  a  message 
to  her,  as  in  the  Third  Act  of  the  play, — what  the  Soldier  and  Scams  say  in  the 
Third  and  Fourth  Acts  is  absurdly  given  to  Diomedes,  who  was  only  Secretary  to 
Cleopatra  and  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  military  concerns — in  the  Second  Act 
Antony  says — *  If  we  compose  well  here,  to  Parthia ;  "  Hark  you  Ventidius.*'  *  Capell 
ha>  changed  the  name  to  Canidius,  which  was  wrong,  as  Ventidius  was  the  person 
really  sent  to  oppose  the  Parthians.  Garrick  revived  this  play  with  all  the  advantages 
of  new  scenes,  habits,  and  decorations,  but  it  did  not  answer  his  expectation — his  own 
person  was  not  sufficiently  imix)rtant  for  Antony ;  and  Mrs  Yates  had  not  perhaps  at 
this  time  displayed  abilities  equal  to  the  representation  of  Shakspeare's  best  female 
character,  Lady  Macbeth  excepted. 


VERSION  ATTRIBUTED  TO  KEMBLE  587 

J.  Knight  {Irving  Ed.  Introd,^  p.  117)  :  It  is  melancholy  to  find,  though  the 
fault  appears  to  have  been  principally  attributable  to  the  actors,  that  this  long-deferred 
production  of  [Capell's  Version]  was  not  a  success.  After  half  a  dozen  repetitions 
the  piece  was  withdrawn.  Why  Garrick  should  not  have  been  a  good  Antony  is  not 
easily  seen.  He  was  not,  however.  Mrs  Yates,  meanwhile,  though  popular  as 
Lady  Macbeth,  won  little  recognition  in  other  important  female  characters  of  Shake- 
speare, and  made  no  impression  as  Cleopatra.  Few  of  Garrick' s  revivals  attracted 
less  attention.  Davies  and  Murphy  in  their  biographies  leave  it  unmentioned.  Dr 
Doran,  without  advancing  any  authority,  speaks  of  it  as  the  great  event  of  its  season, 
and  says,  with  what  almost  sounds  like  disingenuousness,  but  is  only  carelessness,  that 
Garrick  and  Mrs  Yates  gained  *  even  more  laurels  as  Zamti  and  Mandane  in  the 
'  Orphan  of  China '  than  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  in  which  they  gained  none  at  all. 
Mr  Percy  Fitzgerald  confesses  it  a  failure. 


VERSION  ATTRIBUTED   TO   KEMBLE 

In  1 81 3  there  appeared  Shakspeare's  Tragedy  of  Kstohy  aiu/ Cleopatra  ; 
with  alierationsy  and  with  additions  from  Dryden  \a5  now  performed  at  theTHEATKE.' 
Royal,  Covent-Garden.  Mr  Abbot  appeared  as  Octavius;  Mr  Young  as  Antony  ; 
Mr  Barrymore  as  Lepidus ;  Mr  Egerton  as  Enobarbus ;  Mrs  Faucit  as  Cleopatra ; 
Miss  Cooke  and  Mrs  Watts  as  Charmion  and  Iras;  Mrs  M* Gibbon  as  Octavia.  The 
object  of  the  Compiler  of  this  Version  (who  is  said  to  have  been  Kemble,  but  with- 
out sufficient  foundation)  is  set  forth  in  an  '  Advertisement,'  prefixed  to  the  Text ; 
very  briefly  stated,  this  object  appears  to  have  been  to  weld  into  one  play  the  beauties 
of  Shakespeare's  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  and  of  Dryden's  Ail  for  Love,  after  having 
eliminated  from  the  former  the  features  which  tend  to  render  it  unacceptable  to  the 
public,  and  from  the  latter  those  weaknesses  that  have  caused  it  to  decline  in  popu- 
larity, or,  in  short,  as  the  author  expresses  it,  *■  an  amalgamation  of  wonderful  poetical 
*  powers.'  The  various  readings,  transpositions,  and  additions  have  not  been  recorded 
in  the  Textual  Notes  on  the  preceding  pages  of  this  volume;  within  a  space  so 
restricted  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  render  them  intelligible.  In  place 
thereof  a  description  of  this  '  amalgamation '  is  here  given  which  will  convey  an 
idea  of  the  Version,  as  a  whole,  far  more  clearly  than  can  be  conveyed  by  any  Textual 
Notes.  This  description  is  by  Genest.  (I  happen  to  have  Genest's  own  copy  and 
almost  every  page  bears  witness  to  the  fidelity  with  which  he  performed  his  task. ) 
It  is  found  in  his  vol.  viii,  p.  417,  et  seq,  as  follows : 

*  First  Act  does  not  differ  materially  from  the  original  [1.  e.  Shakespeare's] — 
Modena  and  Charmion  are  properly  changed  to  Mutina  and  Charmi(?n — but  Vizxk 
Antony  should  have  been  altered  to  Marr  Antony,  as  in  the  bill — the  letter  kxxiK 
Roman  name  is  an  unpardonable  solecism.  Second  Act,  begins  with  Shakespeare's 
Second  Scene,  but  the  conclusion  of  it,  in  which  Enobarbus  describes  Cleopatra  on 
the  Cydnus,  is  most  injudiciously  omitted — Capell  has  transposed  it — then  follows 
Shakespeare's  Fifth  Scene  with  Cleopatra  and  her  attendants — next  comes  an  unim- 
portant Scene  between  Antony  and  Octavia  at  Athens — this  is  from  Shakespeare's 
Third  Act — Cleopatra,  etc.,  are  discovered  at  Alexandria — the  first  part  of  this  Scene 
is  chiefly  from  Shakespeare,  but  when  Antony  enters,  the  remainder  of  the  Act  is  from 
Dr>'den — Dryden's  Scene  is  a  very  good  one,  but  it  is  not  introduced  in  this  place 
with  propriety — in  Dryden's  play,  Ventidius  in  the  First  Act  estranges  Antony  from 
Cleopatra,  after  which,  naturally  follows  the  Scene  in  which  Antony  reproaches  her — 
but  the  Editor  of  the  present  play  reverses  the  order  of  things,  and  makes  Dryden's 


5  S3  APPEND IX 

Secmd  Scene  precede  hzs  Fast — in  Drrdea's  pl:^  tae  Scrrir  Ees  i&e 

CGt  in  tiiss  alcexatBOO  Aiscoot  b  represeBOed  as  frjmn^^  back,  aa  ^^^S??' 
>i J  tt>  teH  QccpotEa  liiac  they  most  put — ^wiiick  xs  act  goxt  <  iwfTif  »  a:  die 
absord  in  tssei^ — dtere  was  nofhrng  5ke  x  <^miiel  between  AsCcbj  and. 
vztxl  aner  ciie  hatrle  ct  Actnan.  TTurd  Ajt  begins  wixh  die  Seen  Srmr  of  ShaVff- 
speate^s  Third  A^ — thea  £allcvs  ciie  lx»^r:trfi  Scene — c&e  bame  cf  V-rinm  3k=s 
p£ace  in  die  »gat  of  che  anrrirrye — and  the  Ace  is  csndaded  fbont  Sfaikespeate  w*o. 
sup:t  alrrranrttSw  F^mrtk  A>:t  is  nearij  die  wbcie  at  it  firaat  Drvdea;— die  OMrr.nrirai 
Scene  between  Antocy  and  Venczdins  is  intrtxinced  with.  profseCF — due  m  wfncj. 
Vcntkiiiis  leads  on  Octxviay  might  have  been  scazed — and  me  one  acai  De^dex^ 
wbicb  is  Dnproperiy  inserted  in  cize  Stcjnu  A^  ai^bt  bare  bem  sobsctiSiel  Sir  x — 
OcCBvia's  coming  fia  AmiznT  in  E^^jpt  is  a  pceccai  iktion  on  the  part  ^jf  Drydfix.  and 
tbe  '^^"^  z^elf  is  act  eaaal  in  oaxt  to  the  '^^*«*'^  at  SoakesDeace.  ■»it^  ^  aie  ^^■ft-  <mt 
to  make  idooi  dot  it — Drydm's  deschpdcn  of  Ceopatza.  on  die  Cwtnas  is  «ain'iTr: 
Ft/iA  Ait  is  axac^  op  txxasL  Sbokespcare  and  Drydcn — Venttifias  kills  hmwHf  as  n 
Dtyden — when  AnDonj  has  tatim  on  his  swctd»  the  piay  is  oancinded  &saB  2 


and  his  party  enter— aser  wnich,  the  seme  cnanges  id  t&e  mfEBor  at 
tbe  mooumeut — Axocny,  Qeopatza,  etc  are  (Uacavezed — Anonxy  ifin     anrf  c&e  A*:r 
pnxeeds  as  in  Sbakespcaie^  but  with  great  ^ '""***■■»* — CeapaiEx's  sprrHir^  ace  saAy 
nntiiaced— ^he  piar  concludes  with,  two  duct  testes,  antttv  aoB.  •*?■  ■*  fc  * **  m  mi  ■■     ii»i 
a  gcand  fim^^^t  pRjcesBoo. 

^  This  altezation  is  attxibnted  to  g^'wiKI^ — bnt  hia  naone  does  act  appear  hi  r&e  tziie- 
page — Capdrs  aitrrafinn  is  the  better  of  the  two— the  "■»'fa'"  editac  amos  too  amen 
of  Shakespeare — y^  it  most  be  aOowed^  chat  no  pcsson  has  ^It^wi 
speaze's  plars  atateriuHy^  and  has  ^ct  socceedel  so  well — die 
has  adected  the  best  pacts  of  Dcyden's  best  Tagedy^  riwlrad  of 
with,  stuff  of  hzs  own  investtzon,.  as  Darenanc  Tatev  C^bet;  dc 

"This  revival  of  Antony  and  CLeopatza  (fid  oat  meet  wit&  the  snccess  it 
it  cnigftt  Qot  bnwever  Qa  have  been  bmught  flawatd  ipuhuut  a  lizst  stti 
Cleopatza — ^Mzs  Stddons  wonld  hare  made  a  ^^knimis  pact  c£  Qeopatza.  (i 
the  part  not  to  have  beat  mnnlated)  and  peihaus  have  oaed  the  pinp  in  the 
of  the  pnhlic — she  had  been  more  than  once  or  twice  <ntWnti»r{  by  g"'«-wM«*  m  act 
Shakespeaxe's  Qeopaoa^  bnt  she  conrinnatly  drrlinni  izr  a.  very  <»»^^*^ 


amd  die  should  hate  heirseify  if  she  should  pioy  the  pact  as  it  ought  to  be  piayeL' 

Gemst  mentzons  ' x grand  funrrai  [iiiiii  ihiiin  *  with  whicii  the  play  *■*—***»,  bnt  be 
does  not  reter  to  an  *  Epicsdiinn  *  which  was  suo^  at  Che  sme  tznae.  It  begins  wztit 
a  Charmi  whicit  wzll»  I  thinks  xmpiy  serve  as  a.  <^»rM«ii^i : 

*  Coki  in  deatii  the  Hero  firs ; 
Noveiesik  oow^  die  Victor's 
Quench'd  the  light' ning  oi  his 

Tbe  Foe  to  dannt^  the  Fair  to  .*^fm» 

!Kaurzi»  soioicxs^  monxn  !  your  day  is  done  % 
Valour  has  lest  its  cheezzng  sun ; 
The  Roman  Olozy  sets  •»  Egypt's 
And  great  Matk  Antony  wdl 


In  the  Textmmi  Sates  cm  the  jieuallng  psges  at  this  ^lmjjI  volume  rfieie  fM^i'tn^ 
not  increquotdy,  the  name  '^  Krmhtf  '      Let  it  not  be  juiiuuaRd  dxat 


KEMBLE'S  VERSION  589 

hereby  made  to  this  Version  of  1813,  just  described  by  Genest  It  refers  to  a  MS 
Stagt'Copy  of  this  play,  with  Stage -directions  in  the  handwriting  of  J.  P.  Kemble. 
This  copy  has  been  kindly  lent  to  me  by  my  highly  valued  friend,  H.  C.  Folger,  jr., 
of  Brooklyn,  New  York,  who  bought  it  at  the  sale  of  the  library  of  Lawrence  Doyle, 
of  Dublin,  at  Sotheby's,  December,  1898,  in  whose  catalogue  it  was  described  as 

*  J.  P.  Kemble' s  copy  with  MS  notes,  stage-directions,  etc.,  in  his  autograph.  Note 
'  on  fly-leaf,  "  G.  Lamb,  bought  at  Kemble*8  sale,  1821."  '  The  notes,  stage-direc- 
tions, etc.,  are  unquestionably  in  Kemble* s  autograph,  which  is  familiar  to  me. 

The  principle  which  seems  to  have  rigidly  guided  Kemble  in  constructing  this 
Version  is  omission  ;  there  are  not  many  transpositions,  and  no  additions  of  moment. 
How  extensive  is  this  omission  may  be  seen  at  once  from  the  Dramatis  Persona^ 
from  whom,  as  given  in  Steevens*s  edition  of  1793  iS^'^  edition  which  Kemble  would 
have  probably  used),  Kemble  has  omitted  Pompey,  Ventidius,  Scams,  Dercetas, 
Demetrius,  Philo,  Dolabella,  Proculeius,  Menas,  Menecrates,  Taurus,  Canidius, 
Euphronius,  Mardian,  and  Diomedes ;  in  all  fifteen  characters;  in  reality  fourteen. 
Kemble  has  a  new  character,  Titius  by  name,  a  friend  of  Antony,  and  highly  accom- 
modating in  filling  odd  gaps.  Hereby  the  thirty-four  characters  in  Steevens*s  edition 
are  reduced  to  twenty  in  Kemble's  Version,  It  is  evident,  at  once,  that,  by  this  reduc- 
tion in  the  characters,  the  play  is  shortened  by  many  hundred  lines.  In  the  following 
description  no  reference  is  made  to  the  Scenes  where  those  characters  appear  that 
Kemble  has  omitted ;  in  speaking  of  Scenes  '  in  the  original,'  the  Scenes  in  the  Globe 
Edition  are  referred  to. 

The  directions  for  the  setting  of  the  stage  at  the  opening  of  the  Play  are  as  fol- 
lows :  *  The  Palace  in  Alexandria  should  be  of  the  most  magnificent  orders  of  the 
'  purest  Grecian  architecture ;  yet  the  decorations  and  furniture  of  every  apartment 
<  should  remind  one  that  the  scene  lies  in  Egypt.  Portico  of  the  Palace  :  Stage  open 
'  as  far  back  as  possible.  View  of  the  sea,  ships,  etc..  The  Pharos,  Pompey's  Pillar, 
'  Cleopatra's  Obelisk,  Statues  of  Hercules,  Alexander,  Anubis.'  At  the  foot  of  the 
page,  Kemble,  in  the  spirit  of  a  true  scholar,  notes  his  authorities :  <  Norden's  Antiq- 
'  uities  of  Egypt.  Montfaucon.  Mr  Knight's  Antiques.' 

The  First  Scene  opens  with  a  conversation  between  Thyreus  and  Enobarbus ;  after 
the  first  ten  lines,  which  in  the  original  are  spoken  by  Philo,  but  here  by  Enobarbus, 
the  latter  gives  the  description  of  Qeopatra  and  her  barge  on  the  Cydnus.  When 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  enter,  the  Scene  continues  to  the  end  unchanged  as  in  the 
original.  The  first  eighty  lines  of  the  Second  Scene  are  omitted,  and  then  Shake- 
speare's Scene  continues  with  some  minor  omissions  to  the  end.  The  Third  Scene 
remains  unchanged,  as  do  also  the  Fourth  and  Fifthy  with  trifling  omissions,  and  the 
First  Act  ends.  The  Second  Scene  of  the  Second  Act  follows  the  original,  with  the 
exception  of  twenty  or  thirty  lines  omitted  here  and  there  together  with  the  description 
of  Cleopatra  on  the  Cydnus  which  has  been  transferred  to  the  First  Scene  in  the  play. 
The  Third  Scene  of  the  original  is  omitted,  and  instead  the  Fourth  is  retained,  and  ^|,,  ' ..  .  <  ^  ■ 
to  it  is  added  an  abridgement  of  the  first  twenty  lines  of  Act  III^  Scene  ii.  The 
Fifth  Scene  of  the  original  (Kemble's  Third  Scene)  is  retained  with  trifling  omissions. 
The  Messenger,  Kemble  calls  Seleucus.  Kemble's  Fourth  Scene  of  Act  If.  is  com- 
posed of  the  Fourth  and  Fifth  Scenes  of  Act  Iff.  of  the  original,  and  after  Octavia  , 
leaves  (III,  iv,  31)  the  Soothsayer  enters,  exclaiming,  'Antony!  Antony!  Antony!    . 

*  You,  that  wish  yourself  in  Egypt.'  Antony  demands,  *  What  would  you  ? '  and  then 
follows  Act  If,  iii,  from  line  10  to  *  I' the  east  my  pleasure  lies,'  with  the  omission  of 
a  line  or  two.    Kemble's  II,  v.  is  III,  iii.  of  the  original.    Kemble's  II,  vi.  is  III,  vi. 


590 


APPENDIX 


«l  tbe  criciimL  hsc  wrr  sI^^'t  -  cat.*     Wx5t  t&is  S*.sme  Ksnciie's  ^  :r  iTl  cDdsv  bis 
jIL-f  .v.*  ^^^ijx?  v.t&  III.  ^  zt  t&e  cr^psiL     T^i»  -mffn^  sxd  :ais  be^^anxa^  ere  toe 


ii^ 


31 


JB.  SLfiBmie'i,  ipok*2x  br 

jrs^iaL  f^eiJgii  S-.**.'  ix.  KeK« 

:^|^^:;3:s  iis  ov-^nof  ai^  '«:ci  .2L7«r  x>  «£  Ins-  ii  ^^'llll^      JL:  J3 

ni.  iriL  *  )Cr-jae  ^laiBStfy  laii  I  3«pn.  i»  sames.'  esc     ^tfnni'ir  s 

<9K«sc  :^uc  T4^axT.:axu:»  21  ^  TmViVf  Eaat .  is  ^j?*?  -r^  s  .Sismt  x:H«  h  ne  cad  c£  , 
JliT  .VJI  XL  iist  izT^TtoL.  'taz  Hmxtitt  cuminitis  :^  J^j=«r  iv  ^.-fuaiii^  S^Tciaaes^s  en 
1^  <ia|!9^  jm^  <rinjtttn^  ^  r  J^  J^:!?«f  -^  jc  tut  ifu^Miiif.  ms  ~  l^g^-ffifrrr  Asnnxr 
*  fMK  ' ::  Aannrc  x:  nns  \>e^tDi  ^  Si  vll  iLt  iipr  win.  ne 
«K  X*  !dif  ntd.  -it  Ots  iL3*Kr  «i  xr  :&s  xcipna^  rprrrr  -^ac  ZZaiimua.  x  iBii'icgif  i  c  s 
CsxK.  «m£  n-t  CtrriTBiix.  lit-^lmt  "WXu  jbiu  Xa&rnarins  czxol.  - 
TI^i»  S^ffi.  <r.*m:iixin££^  I-jnniJtt  *  Jk£  Si'S     lis  _£!r'  ."#"  i^pns  jc  JT_  jr.  Bt 
^innittii^  r.uMVTttxn,  snc  \C!i]antnnXk.  jaimiiug  ■iuugyi  .Sssar  x  ir  -nis 
^  ^  Sr**'  i.  cinmnriiiBr  lbs  iisc  l«n  ixnes  jr  IT,  t*  it  At  xnipnaL. 
^i^mf  wiiL  rx~..  vit4.  !>.  snu  .aiisr  iuenxof:  s^tc  zr  'Ct  Ixns  Ituu.  Ae 
.;T%' .  vi.  «— '^  ^  .ruimniiiK  iot  Jtcftc  jn  xr  "As  nx^xmil     SLsmue  «  ^ 
4ii>ite  ,  i'  i«^ins^  vnit   ttic  Sermmrjc  m  -issuer  Tk'is:      iiiiix»  snL  Xxms  '  it  T'.»t«*;u^ 
«F  n  T^'..  ?k      Tjufhomcc  cnts^.    us  miuress  u  tie  maoL  &  id&zwrsL  >ir  ji£-  3sfi=- 
limK>  tt.  r^'  V4.  jr   ■  JLisBK  diL  -eprut;.    «el^  immi^'L  Hk  tsc  ie  iXBL  S^ne  iigii  ins 
tt  -vsmrKx  tr-  "bm.  iw   Jknimr    TT .  ▼*,  ar— 3^  .     J5Lr  -"T"  ^Ifis»r  ax  i  t^»-g 
aiu:   titt   tec  ti^Rr  imss^  o'  nsf  oviii{:  sesn.  riisvs  tur  .laeM-:      ^*witii«  s 
Skc^m   ".   Hc|m>  witt    ^\n>WL-  ^.  onu  nmittm;;  /trncr  t:<      ririinnTTr  ^  ^iifiiw*>  joic  lie 
Imet  mmtirft^fx  v  rt?:  ik  wsI  »^  -Bxnii*'  ctiiisrzb.  sac£  vrtii    sk  oce-  icr^  Xsk  hi  . 
7^'.  "ui*,  ^.     iiL^mtttt^s  Sen.-  t*    1^  tie  ^aatt  m^  Jicnf  sii. .  lis  ^xorar  ^vL  »  fie  mtsas 
m-  J^rmir  tr*   wtu  irm-  flnwwwa^  ts:  iaa^er  i^  rod   Inc  Trie  n^      i:«wwi%j-  «.  ^ 


*tnwa.TcH  tiK  Iklmunn-rn;.  becrui^  Aniorr  nt.  hir  ".  itf*:        ^smzxr  >  Seme  s.  iolin 

lbrnQ;tnixi'   tr    ttu  nr^nu«      Tls  laape&'  CDumooK-  xc  tnr  lepsaaat  of  fasOHca^  ■r.r 
IIk  <ri'-<«n  via   tic  «S7v  .  aiu    tir 


V.  Tytmnx  t    a* 


rmrt.  «i»  tra-jp'rfi***.  t»  1  u^r  .  t^xsoaxK. 


H-wTT  tr  '  AiiL 


m  IC  rtiaii^ 


tfCTOXfi.  sa-v 


*^if^    T'tt 


t:  s^ 


\»«i*it^.  tf  «»••   tw'  rri^icnrpjnKvi-  o    tir  vtoonr  <±^x.  i:  t-  m:  awn  a 


ACTORS— B KERB  OHM  TREE 


591 


While  these  pages  are  going  through  the  press,  word  comes  from  London  of  a 
Revival  there,  unprecedented  for  splendour  and  sumptuousness,  by  Mr  Beerbohm 
Tree.     The  performance  is  thus  spoken  of  by  the  London  Times,  January  4,  1907 : 

*  \jAnt(my  and  Cleopatra]  is  one  of  the  classics  of  what  M.  Porto- Riche  would 
call  the  Th6&tre  de  1' Amour.  Mr  Bernard  Shaw  would  give  its  theme  a  less  elegant 
name,  **  sexual  infatuation/'  Cleopatra  is  the  irresistible  enchantress,  Antony  the 
colossal  lover,  and  the  whole  play  must  bum  to  a  white  heat  with  their  fire.  .  .  . 
Nevertheless,  if  you  present  Antony  and  Cleopatra  at  all,  you  must  present  it,  above 
everything,  as  a  treatment  of  "sexual  infatuation"  in  the  grand  style.  And  that  is 
just  what  Mr  Tree  has  perceived  and  has  done.  ...  [Mr  Tree]  has  the  supreme 
quality  of  thinking  out  the  master-idea  of  a  play,  of  disengaging  its  essential  essence, 
and  of  comprehending  the  play  "  in  its  quiddity."  To  get  at  the  heart  of  the  play, 
and  to  exhibit  that  heart  to  you,  he  will  boldly  lop  here  and  still  more  boldly  add 
there — and  who  shall  blame  him  ?  The  pedants,  no  doubt ;  but  certainly  not  the 
great  body  of  playgoers  who  come  to  Shakespeare,  as  they  come  to  any  other  dram- 
atist, simply  and  solely  to  get  what  pleasure  they  can  out  of  him, — and  whose  pleasure 
is  dependent  upon  the  clearness,  the  unity,  of  what  is  put  before  them.  .  .  .  Where  is 
that  unity  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  ?  Is  it  in  the  Imperial  Roman  tnoti/f  No  ; 
that  is  merely  North's  Plutarch  cut  up  into  blank  verse,  and  taken  by  itself  would 
be  as  dull  as  ditch  water.  Is  it  in  the  Octavia  motifs  the  contrast  of  the  ultra- respect- 
able matron,  the  pattern  of  domesticity,  with  the  voluptuous  orchidaceous  Cleopatra  ? 
No ;  that  is  a  mere  additional  touch  of  art.  It  is  in  the  passion-xn^^/iy  of  Cleopatra 
and  Antony,  there  and  not  elsewhere ;  and  it  is  upon  that  motif  that  Mr  Tree  con- 
centrates the  whole  force  of  his  stage.  Hence  the  scenes  in  "Cxsar's  House"  are 
cut  very  short  indeed.  Hence  the  **  camp  "  scenes  become  mere  kinematographs. 
Hence  the  passionate  duologue  between  Antony  and  Cleopatra  is  given  all  the  advan- 
tage of  scenic  magnificence  and  orchestral  illustration.  Egypt,  not  Rome  nor  Athens 
nor  Misenum,  becomes  the  "  hub  "  of  the  play.  ...  A  dissolving  vision  of  the  Sphinx 
opens  and  closes  the  play.  Weird  nerve-thrilling  Oriental  strains  are  in  the  air. 
You  hear  those  same  strains  even  in  Rome  or  Athens — on  the  Wagnerian  plan — 
whenever  Antony's  thoughts  turn  to  the  far-away  Cleopatra.  For  example,  Antony 
has  just  parted,  not  without  conjugal  tenderness,  from  Octavia.  He  seems,  for  once, 
to  have  in  him  the  makings  of  a  model  home-loving  husband.  But  there  swiftly 
enters  a  messenger — Cleopatra's  trusty  messenger — with  a  scroll.  Antony  falls  on 
his  couch,  murmuring  '*  Cleopatra,"  and  covering  his  eyes  that  he  may  shut  out  the 
present  scene  and  dream  of  her,  again  to  the  faint  sound  of  the  Oriental  music.  You 
will  search  in  vain  for  any  indication  of  this  "business"  in  Shakespeare;  but  it  is 
ingeniously,  and  quite  legitimately,  invented ;  it  helps  the  unity  of  impression. 
Another  example  :  in  the  text  Caisar  describes  Antony's  return  to  Alexandria,  how 
"  V  th*  market  place  on  a  Tribunal  silver* d  "  [etc.  Ill,  vi,  4-9  ;  17-19].  All  this 
Mr  Tree  actually  shows  you  in  a  silent  and  yet  extraordinarily  eloquent  tableau,  which 
will,  perhaps,  vex  text-worshippers,  but  certainly  will  delight  everybody  else.  .  .  . 
One  hardly  knows  which  to  admire  most,  the  gorgeous  interior  of  the  palace  in 
which  Cleopatra  loves  and  languishes,  or  the  mysterious  cavern-like  vastness  of  the 
"  Monument,"  wherein  she  so  nobly  dies.  Another  masterpiece  both  of  stage-car- 
pentry and  of  stage  management  is  the  deck  of  Pompey's  galley,  where  the  Trium- 
virs and  their  ofHcers  get  so  imperially  drunk.  ...  It  would  be  unjust  not  to  mention 
the  name  of  the  designer  of  the  costumes,  Mr  Percy  Macquoid.  .  .  .  Mr  Tree  him- 
self makes  a  fine  figure  of  Antony.     He  does  not  fall  into  the  error  of  showing  him 


592 


APPESDIX 


as  a  mere  sensiul  weakling,  "  pusioo's  slaTe.**  ladeed  bis  vatnpanB  dsflli^ 
when  he  is  encircled  fay  Cleopotn's  armSy  seem  to  lack  ■■nriliiun  ^ 
warmth.  No  doabc  Mr  Tree  will  become  mcce  <Vinii»rfii»eIy  jmmuua  br  and  bf. 
M'siowbile  joa  cannot  help  liking  his  AniooT— whidv,  cf  cnrsr^  is  cpiite  the  ng^ 
frame  of  min<L  The  OctaTins  of  Mr  Basil  Gill  and.  the  Pmimef  of  Mr  Jviim 
L'Estnnge  are  both  excellent  performances — cber  are  fxoocr  **-  RntiiDdL's  men  "  wk 
speak  their  lines  roandl  j.  Excellent,  too,  the  Eaofaarbos  of  Xr  Lvn  FTi«wriw«^  pod 
to  look  at  and  a  treat  to  hear.  His  ^  purple  patch '^  iVuiihiiig  CLsopatim's  pilqr 
ooold  not  be  better  deliTcred.  The  helpless  inloxicztaoa  of  f  ^Mfuff.  on  boani  Pom- 
pey*s  ship  loses  nothing  of  its  grotesque  repalsTeacss  is.  die  bamb  of  Mr  ^Hgbmb 
Forbes ;  Mr  Fisher  White  makes  a  quite  remark ahSe  thin^  cf  cbe  SootbaBfcr;  nk 
the  unhappy  messenger  who  is  so  bullied  and  tentfied  b^  tbe  jeaioiB  OeopntB  is 
'tcTf  clererir  played  by  Mr  Charles  Quartermaine. 

But  Qeopaira  herself?  ETerything  in  this  play  depends  mpoit  bar.  IL  is  a  teni- 
biy  exacting  part  for  any  actress.  She  must  haTe  beaarr,  of  caara^  and^  what  ■ 
eren  more  important,  she  must  have  glamour.  She  vast  be  aliilie  id  ran  at  a  o^ 
sweep  through  the  whole  gamut  of  emotion — from  dove-like  rrwnin^s  to  the  n^  of  a 
tigresji,  from  Toluptuout  languor  to  passion  all  aflame,  firaaa  the  fibcsar  of  a  vinip>  A 
the  calm  and  statuesque  majesty  of  one  of  the  noblest  deadt-scenes  in.  all  Shaken 
speare.  It  is  a  great  ordeal  for  Miss  Constance  CoQier.  Ome  tzcmbljed  fast  hs 
beforehand,  but  quite  needlessly  as  it  turns  out,  for  she  not  oobr  looks  bat  pinys  the 
part  splendidly.  An  occasional  touch  of  our  modem  '*  fine  ipnkw  *'"  f  i-^i^^  whkh 
jars  against  the  music  of  Shakespearian  rerse  is  the  only  lilrniith  in  wbnc  is  on  tbe 
whole,  as  Enobarbus  sajrs  of  the  Queen,  **  a  wonderful  piece  of 


•T    * 


Thr  Daily  Telegraph  iiA  December,  1906) :  Never,  pnbnbry,  bi  bts 
has  Mr  Tree  given  us  a  more  perfect  stage  adornment  than  tbnt  wbic&  he  displiiys  in 
Antony  ^  CUopatra,  The  gradation  of  colours,  the  delicate  shndes  of  violet,  and 
puce,  and  purple,  the  glittering  robes  of  the  Queen,  the  pomp  and  cemonr  of  ber 
court, — ail  the»c  things,  controlled  by  the  practised  artistry  of  Mr  I^^Lf  XaoEpBuid, 
add  to  the  pleasure  of  the  eye,  and  give  bodily  semblance  to  the  in&er  ■Miniiii^  of 
the  play.  If  for  nothing  else,  the  production  would  be  extraordinaiy  ^>t*""^^r  of  iB 
stage  pictures.  The  first  glimpse  of  the  landing-stage  of  Qeopotra's  p*^"**^^  with 
the  l/arge  that  draws  up  to  the  steps,  from  which  issue  the  regal  pair  of  faiveis ;  te 
beautiful  gold-bedizened  scene,  when  Qeopatra  wreaks  ber  vengeance  on  Ae 
messenger  telling  of  Antony's  betrothal ;  the  magnificent  tableau  of  die  reconi  of 
Antony  to  Alexandria ;  above  all,  perhaps,  the  scene  on  Pompey^s  galley,  wbcxe,  in 
the  mysterious  dark,  lit  by  the  fantastically-coloured  lamps  at  the  poop^  the  trismvirs 
watch  the  dancing-girls,  and  themselves  join  in  a  mad  debancb — these  and  oAer 
pictures  prove  once  more  that  whatever  else  we  may  have  socoeeded  or  6iled  in 
doing  on  the  modem  stage,  we  have  advanced  the  ordinary  scenic  artifices  to  a  pitch 
of  success  which  was  not  dreamed  of  by  our  forefathers.  In  this,  above  alU  lies  the 
triumph  of  lost  night*s  play,  on  which  Mr  Tree  b  warmly  to  be  congratulated.  .  .  . 

Certainly  the  piece  is  very  well  played.  Miss  Constance  Collier,  handsoae, 
dark-skinned,  barbaric,  dominates  the  scene  wherever  she  appears.  Nor  has  she 
ever  had  a  better  chance,  or  more  fully  availed  herself  of  it,  than  when  in  the  seoood 
act  she  has  to  prove  how  close  the  tiger's  cruelty  lies  under  the  sleek  skin  of  the 
cultivated  woman.  Mr  Tree's  Mark  Antony  was  a  fine,  masculine,  resolute  rendering 
of  a  hero  ruined  by  love.     There  is  not  much  subdety  or  complexity  in  the  pait. 


ACTORS— BEERB OHM  TREE 


593 


Antony  is  the  Samson  caught  by  Delilah  ;  a  sort  of  primitive,  elemental  hero,  whose 
degradation  is  all  the  more  sure  because  his  intellect  is  so  inferior  to  his  heart.  And 
this  is  precisely  the  hero  whom  Mr  Tree  so  skilfully  rendered.  Apart  from  these  two 
principal  personages,  there  were  many  others  who  gained  a  significant  success  on  the 
boards.  Mr  Basil  Gill  was  very  alert  and  vivid  in  the  part  of  Octavius  Caesar,  saying 
his  lines  with  that  prompt  energy  which  belongs  to  the  nature  of  the  Shakespearian 
conqueror.  Mr  Norman  Forbes  gave  adequate  presentment  of  the  weakness  of 
Lepidus,  an  invaluable  help  in  the  evolution  of  the  play,  keeping  the  figure  within 
its  proper  limits,  as  wholly  subordinate,  yet  illustrative  of  the  increasing  degeneracy 
of  the  Roman.  Mr  Lyn  Harding's  Enobarbus  was  also  a  fine  performance,  pictur- 
esque,  and  varied,  done  with  admirable  lightness  and  no  little  artistic  skill ;  while 
Mr  Julian  L'E^trange,  in  such  brief  opportunities  as  he  possessed,  gave  a  firm  sketch 
of  Sextus  Pompeius.  Qeopatra*s  two  attendants,  Iras  and  Charmian,  were  both 
excellent — especially,  perhaps,  Charmian,  as  played  by  Miss  Alice  Crawford,  who 
revealed  real  dramatic  power  in  the  last  act,  and  throughout  presented  a  beautiful 
picture  of  Eastern  womanhood.  Nor  ought  we  to  forget  the  dignified  Sooth-sayer  of 
Mr  J.  Fisher  White — a  characteristic  personage,  who  at  various  crises  in  the  story 
illustrated  before  our  eyes  the  noiseless  steps  of  on-coming  Destiny. 

It  would  be  interesting,  also,  if  it  were  possible,  to  recount  all  those  clever 
adaptations  and  contrivances  by  means  of  which  so  diffuse  a  play  was  brought  within 
manageable  compass  on  the  stage.  We  must  limit  ourselves,  however,  to  one 
example,  where  Shakespeare  has  given  a  real  difficulty  to  the  stage  manager.  Antony 
who  has  tried,  very  imperfectly,  to  commit  suicide,  is  lying  outside  the  walls  of  Alex- 
andria.  Cleopatra  and  her  maids  have  taken  refuge  in  the  monument  The  problem 
is  how  to  get  the  wounded  man  into  the  monument,  in  order  that  the  final  scene  of 
death  may  be  enacted  before  us.  Mr  Tree  solves  it  as  follows.  In  the  gloom  of 
on-coming  night  the  fallen  hero,  Mark  Antony,  is  carried  to  the  bottom  of  the  walls, 
and  above,  at  a  window,  Cleopatra  is  looking  out,  to  answer  the  cry  of  her  defeated 
lover.  As  the  lights  go  out  we  see  the  body  being  hoisted  upwards  to  the  window ; 
then,  by  a  quick  change,  we  are  transported  to  the  interior  of  the  monument,  and 
once  more  see  Antony  being  lifted  inwards  through  the  open  window,  and  brought 
to  the  couch  to  receive  Cleopatra's  farewell.  It  was  a  clever  bit  of  stage  work, 
which  gave  a  complete  and  satisfactory  impression  without  any  lack  of  verisimilitude. 

The  ATHENiCUM  (5  January,  1907) :  For  the  first  time,  so  far  as  records  extend, 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  has  been  set  upon  the  stage  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  place 
it  occupies  in  the  Shakespearian  drama,  and  its  reception, — not  that  accorded  it  by 
the  first  night's  public  at  His  Majesty's,  but  the  lasting  empire  it  exercises  over  the 
play-going  world, — should  settle  definitely  its  claims  to  rank  among  the  great  acting 
plays.  ...  As  re-arranged  by  Andrew  Halliday,  the  piece  was  produced  at  Druiy 
Lane  in  1873.  At  the  Standard  it  was  also  given;  and  in  Manchester  there  was  a 
noteworthy  revival.  The  experiment  of  Mrs  Langtry  ;  that  of  Madame  Bernhardt, 
which,  however,  was  in  Sardou,  not  Shakespeare ;  and  that,  sadly  misjudged,  of 
Signora  Duse,  belong  to  days  comparatively  modem.  Irving,  urged  to  present  the 
play  at  the  Lyceum,  was  discouraged  by  its  record  of  indifferent  success.  Among 
these  efforts,  that  of  Mr  Tree  is  the  most  serious, — it  might  almost  be  said  the  sole 
serious  attempt.  That  in  1873  at  Drury  Lane  came  nearest  to  it  in  splendour  and 
had  a  certain  amount  of  imaginative  grace.  ...  In  the  case  oi  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
it  is  impossible  to  regard  with  favour  the  restrictions  upon  scenic  display  which  some 

38 


594 


APPENDIX 


sticklers  for  the  text,  and  nothing  but  the  text,  would  have  us  obsorre.  Here,  if  any- 
where, is  to  be  shown  the  full  splendour  of  a  court  in  which  Egypt  strove,  if  not  with 
Assyria,  with  Rome  in  wealth  and  luxury,  when  Cleopatra  wore,  as  now  she  wean 
the  garb  of  Isis  and  accepted  her  worship,  and  her  regal  lover  took  on  him  the  state 
and  splendour  of  his  ancestor,  Hercules.  Nowise  burdensome  is  the  enTironment 
Mr  Tree  provides.  It  is  on  the  contrary  splendidly  helpful  and  serviceable,  as  well 
as  pleasurable  to  the  spectator.  As  regards  the  mounting,  it  is  not  only  the  best  that 
has  been  given  to  this  play — it  may  be  regarded  as  the  best  that  has  been  bestowed 
upon  any  work  of  the  author.  ...  A  splendid  effect  is  realized  in  the  scene  at  the 
portals  of  Qeopatra's  Palace  where  the  royal  lovers  arrive  at  the  river  front  and 
disembark.  Still  more  superb  is  that  in  which,  apparelled  like  Isis,  the  queen  greets 
her  returning  warrior.  As  an  example  of  scenic  decoration  and  pageantry  this  is 
unequalled.  More  sedate  in  beauty,  but  still  unsurpassable,  is  that  in  the  Palace  in 
which  Qeopatra  receives  the  unfortimate  messenger  who  brings  her  intelligence  of 
the  marriage  of  Antony  and  Octavia.  Very  fine,  too,  is  the  picture  of  debanch  on 
the  galley  of  Pompey.  A  word  of  special  praise  is  deserved  by  the  costomes  of  the 
Roman  warriors,  which  are  perfect.  Those  of  Qeopatra  and  her  hand-maidens 
*  beggared  all  description.' 

The  general  interpretation  is  admirable.     Looking  Antony  to  the  life,  Mr  Tree 
shows  something  more  than  the  inspired  sensualist  who  for  Cleopatra's  sake  counted 
the  world  well  lost.     With  him  are  well  contrasted  the  forceful,  passionate,  resolute 
Caesar  of  Mr  Basil  Gill,  and  the  weak,  bibulous  Lepidus  of  Mr  Norman  Forbes. 
Enobarbus,  Sextus  Pompeius,  Eros,  the  Soothsayer,  and  other  prominent  characters 
find  effective  exponents.     Miss  Constance  Collier  is  a  splendid  Cleopatra,  and  shows 
well  the  forcible  passions  that  underlie  the  sensual  charm  and  allurement  of  the 
queen.     The  most  dramatic   scene  in  the  play — her  onslaught  on  the  messei^er 
bringing  her  the  unwelcome  news  of  Antony's  marriage — is  thrilling  in  savage,  pas- 
sionate intensity  and  energy,  and  was  greeted  with  rapture  by  the  audience.     Ins 
and  Charmian  have  delightful  exponents,  the  latter,  in  the  person  of  Miss  Alice 
Crawford,  displaying  dramatic  power  as  well  as  charm.     For  the  first  time  the  play 
has  been  adequately  set  before  the  public,  by  which  it  was  received  with  ecstasy. 
Whether  the  magnificence  of  the  production  will  break  the  spell  under  which  Antony 
and  Cleopatra  supposedly  labours  remains  to  be  seen.     It  can  hardly,  however,  be 
otherwise,  since  as  spectacle  and  as  intellectual  entertainment  the  whole  is  equally 
noteworthy. 

In  1878  there  was  a  Revival  by  Miss  Rose  Eytinge,  which  had,  as  it  was 
reported,  a  successful  *  run '  of  many  weeks  in  New  York,  and  throughout  the 
country.     Mr  G.  C.  Boniface  was  Marc  Antony ;  Mr  C.  Rockwell,  Octavius. 

There  was  another  Revival  in  New  York  in  1889,  with  a  version  •  arranged  for 
•acting'  by  Mr  Kyrle  Bellew,  who  took  the  part  of  Anthony ;  Mrs  Potter  was 
Cleopatra ;  Mr  Ian  Robertson,  Octavius,  and  Mr  Henry  Edwards,  Enobarbus. 

A  Version  by  M.  Sardou  (never  published,  I  believe)  was  produced  by  Miss 
Fanny  Davenport,  and  by  Mad.  Sara  Bernhardt. 


COSTUME— GOD  WIN 


COSTUME 


595 


In  Cumberland's  British  Theatre,  edited  by  D. G.  [Gkorgs  Daniel]  the 

following  directions  are  given  for  the  Costumes  : 

Marc  Antony. — Splendid  buff  shirt  and  robe — fleshings — sandals — bracelets — 
white  riband  tied  round  his  brows.  Second  dress :  Roman  shirt — breastplate  and 
lambeskean  shield — sword  and  helmet. 

OcTA  vius  CiESAR. — Roman  toga— fleshings — sandals,  &c.  Second  dress  :  Breast- 
plate, helmet,  lambeskean — red  robe — sword,  chain,  &c. 

Enobarbus. — White  shirt  and  red  robe — fleshings — sandals,  &c.  Second  dress  : 
Breastplate — lambeskean — sword,  helmet,  &c. 

Lepidus. — Roman  toga — fleshings — sandals,  &c. 

Sextus  Pompeius. — Ibid. 

Eros. — Roman  shirt — breastplate — ^lambeskean — helmet— 6word — robe — arm  and 
leg  fleshings. 

Philo  and  MECiCNUS. — Ibid. 

Agrippa. — Roman  toga.     Second  dress  :  Armour  ibid. 

Thyreus. — Roman  shirt — robe — fleshings,  arms  and  legs.  Second  dress  :  Armour 
ibid. 

DoLABELLA. — White  shirt  and  robe.     Second  dress  :  Armour  ibid. 

Callus  and  Menas. — Ibid. 

Alexas. — Blue  shirt,  with  gold  binding — blue  robe — fleshings,  &c 

DiOMEDS. — Roman  shirt  and  robe.     Second  dress  :  Armour  ibid. 

Canidius. — Roman  toga — fleshings — sandals,  &c. 

EuPHRONius. — Blue  robe — white  beard — sandals  and  fleshings. 

pROCULEius. — Shirt — ^breastplate — fleshings — helmet,  &c. 

Cleopatra. — Egyptian  merino  white  dress — tiara  of  jewels  in  hair — dress  richly 
ornamented  with  pearls  and  jewels — robe  of  tissue,  richly  studded  with  stars,  &c. — 
sandals — robes  and  crown  for  last  scene. 

OCTAVIA. — White  Roman  dress — sandals,  &c  — riband  in  hair. 

Charmian. — Egyptian  blue  merino,  and  robe — fleshings,  sandals. 

Iras. — Buff  ibid-— ornaments  in  hair. 

[Unless  the  foregoing  '  lambeskean '  stands  for  lambskin,  it  is  unintelligible  to 
me;  it  is  faithfully  reprinted.] 

E.  W.  Godwin  (  The  Architect^  26th  June,  1875) :  The  Costume  of  this  play  may 
be  taken  to  be  somewhat  mixed.  That  the  Roman  fashions  were  for  the  most  part 
accepted  wherever  the  power  of  Rome  had  made  itself  a  reality  may  be  safely  assumed, 
but  then  these  fashions  were  themselves  moulded  on  those  of  other  nations.  .  .  .  But 
fashion,  in  old  as  in  modem  times,  belongs  to  the  upper  classes,  so  that  while  I  have 
little  hesitation  in  clothing  Kleopatra  and  her  court  in  the  habit,  or  some  slight  modi- 
fication of  the  habit,  prevalent  among  Greeks — more  or  less  adopted  also  by  the 
Roman  aristocracy — the  poor  people,  the  Clown  especially,  and  perhaps  the  Sooth- 
sayer, might  very  well  exhibit  in  their  dress  some  tradition  of  the  old  nation  to  which 
they  belonged.*  The  Ionic  chiton,  the  chlamys,  the  peplos,  the  transparent  fine 
linen  vest,  chemise,  or  under  tunic  were  dresses  which  obtained  throughout  the  shores 

♦  The  Queen,  according  to  the  Text,  which  follows  history  in  this  particular, 
appeared  often  *  in  the  habiliments  of  the  goddess,  Isis,' — the  goddess  of  the  Moon ; 
in  other  words,  in  a  long,  transparent,  fine  linen  tunic,  and  a  pallium  fastened  by  a 
knot  in  front,  a  crown  of  lotus  flowers  on  her  head,  and  a  sistrum  in  her  hand. 


596 


APPENDIX 


of  th«  Mediterranean  with  but  little  yariation  bcjrond  that  resulting  from 
decrease  in  length  or  breadth  of  materiaL  No  doabt,  too,  the  fashionable  ladies  of 
Alexandria  had  their  parasols,  or  umbracula,  just  the  same  as  the  ladies  of  Athens, 
Rome,  or  IVnnpeii.  Broad-brimmed  straw  hats,  with  low,  saocer-shaped  crowns,  were 
also  probably  worn.  OctaTia,  after  her  marriage,  might  appear  in  tiie  stola  and  die 
sqnare-cnt  white  pallium,  fastened  with  a  fibula,  or  brooch,  on  the  light  sibonlder, 
leaTing  the  right  arm  free. 

In  reference  to  the  Stags  Setting,  Godwin  has  the  following  (^.  cit,  26di 
June,  1875)  :  In  the  tragedy  before  as  we  hare  no  less  than  thirty-six  ymrs.  Of 
these,  twenty-five  are  architectnral,  including  the  one  on  board  Pompey's  galley, 
which  belongs  to  naval  architecture.  The  other  twenty-four  are  divided  bawcea 
Alexandria,  Rome,  Messina,  and  Athens,  or  the  re^Kctive  residenoes  of  Kleapatru^ 
Cmsar^  P&mpeius,  and  Aniamius,  but  by  far  the  most  inqxirtant  of  ^bese  are  those 
whidi  belong  to  the  Gty  of  the  PtoUmia,  It  is  next  to  in^x>ssible  to  reduce  this 
play  to  set  scenes,  for  the  unities  of  time  and  place  are  quite  disregarded  by  the 
anthor.  In  the  first  aiKi  last  Acts  a  very  slight  change  would  enable  ns  to  bring 
these  into  two  scenes,  if  the  fourth  Scene  of  the  first  Act  were  carried  00  to  the  second 
Act  and  the  first  Scene  of  the  fifth  Act  omitted,  but  the  second  Act  carries  ns  in  seven 
Scenes  from  Pampefs  house  at  Messina  to  the  house  of  Lepidta  at  Rome,  thence  into 
Citsars  palace,  thence  into  the  streets  of  Rome,  thence  Id  the  palace  at  Alexandria, 
therxx  to  Misenmn,  and  finally  leaves  us  floating  on  the  sea.  In  the  third  Act 
(eleven  Scenes)  we  are  in  Alexandria,  Rome,  and  Athens ;  ixnr  on  the  plains  of  Syria, 
and  xK>w  00  the  promontory  of  Actinm.  In  the  fourth  Act  of  thirteen  Scenes  we  are 
certainly  confined  to  Alexandria  and  its  ndghbourhood,  but  we  are  perpetually  moved 
aboot  from  the  inside  of  the  palace  to  the  outside,  from  within  to  witfaoot  the  walls, 
from  one  camp  to  the  other,  until  we  are  brought  to  rest  in  that  remazicahle  Scene — 
*  the  Monument.'  I  see  no  reason  why  the  Scene  in  the  house  of  JLepidus  (Act  iL, 
Scene  2 )  should  rK>t  be  laid  in  a  lesche  or  nxMier  a  colonnade  before  C^sarx  boose, 
and  thns  serve  also  for  the  two  Scenes  whi<^  follow  it.  Indeed,  by  die  exercise  of 
some  little  thought  and  care,  the  whole  number  of  the  ardiitectnxal  Scenes  may  be 
fairly  reduced,  and  it  is  possible  without  serious  mntilation  to  prevent  saooe  of  the 
abrapt  changes,  as  for  example  that  brought  about  by  the  introduction  of  Alexandria 
in  the  fifih  Scene  of  the  second  Act ;  for  there  does  not  exist,  as  it  seems  to  me,  any 
great  obstacle  to  this  Scene  forming  part  of  the  third  in  the  third  Act.  I  cannot  at 
present  see  that  we  can  do  with  less  architectnral  scenery  than  that  set  down  in  ^ 
following  list,  unless  the  Scenes  at  Athens  and  Messina  are  omitted  altogether  : 

1.  The  palace  at  Alexandria — ^interior. 

2.  A  Moxmment  at  Alexandria. 

3.  CUesof's  house  at  Rome — a  lesche  or  ookxmade. 

4.  Anttmrs  house  at  Athens — interior. 

5.  Pamper' s  house  at  Messina — interior. 

Of  the  interior  of  Klecpatras  palace  the  play  presents  ns  wiih  no  les  than  twelve 
Scenes,  and  vrith  one  laid  outside  or  before  the  palace  (Act  IV,  Sc  tii),  bat  all  thir- 
teen coold  reasonably  pass  in  one  hall  if  attention  were  ^ven  to  the  pJ^TiTt^T*^  gf  iL 
The  remains  of  the  temples  at  Philac,  Dendera,  and  Kalabsche,  the  relic  of  the  palace 
at  Medinei  Habon,  and  the  re^nesentaxions  of  domesbc  ardutectnre  in  the  fragmess 
of  wall  paintings  in  oar  mnseums,  are  tibe  only  anthonties  available  for  this  iiMjM*f  wt 


LIST  OF  EMEND  A  TJONS  IN  CAMBRIDGE  EDITION 


597 


Scene.  The  temples  and  palace,  howeTer,  that  I  have  just  mentioned  must  be  held 
to  be  far  inferior  to  the  temples  and  palaces  of  the  ro}ral  city.  .  .  . 

The  evidence  of  material  wealth — a  splendour  lavish  as  daylight — would  be  there 
[Alexandria].  Whatever  marble  and  basalt,  porphyry  and  serpentine,  bronze  or 
silver,  or  gold  or  any  other  precious  material  could  do,  we  may  be  quite  sure  was  not 
lacking.  Mechanics  would  shine  like  the  sun,  in  construction  ;  multitudes  of  pillars, 
and  miles  of  avenue,  and  corridor,  and  labyrinth  would  speak  of  the  mighty  mass  of 
labour  in  the  service  of  Egypt.  .  .  . 

The  '  Monument '  of  the  play  is  evidently  nothing  more  than  the  raised  stage  at 
the  back  of  the  main  stage,  so  common  in  the  theatres  of  Shakespeare's  time.  An 
Egyptian  monument  or  tomb  was  constructed  on  principles  which  could  not  possibly 
admit  the  poet's  idea.  But  the  Greek  monument  was  altogether  different.  In  the 
one  case  we  find  a  tomb,  an  architectural  grave,  a  sepulchre  ;  in  the  other  we  have  a 
house,  a  shrine,  a  temple.  The  little  memorial  of  Lysicrates  at  Athens,  and  the 
temple-like  Lydan  monument  discovered  at  Xanthus,  and  now  in  our  National 
Museum,  are  extreme  illustrations  of  one  principle  of  design.  In  both  the  structure 
consists  of  two  storeys :  the  ground  storey  solid  and  comparatively  plain,  the  upper 
storey  open  and  enriched  with  columns,  figure  sculpture,  and  other  ornamental  acces- 
sories. Now,  although  acting  on  a  higher  platform  than  the  stage  is  always  made  to 
look  more  or  less  ridiculous  by  modem  scenic  arrangements,  in  proof  of  which  asser- 
tion I  may  cite  Juliet* s  balcony  as  a  flagrant  example,  and  although  I  know  of  no 
instance  where  this  division  of  stage  level  has  been  well  carried  out,  yet  even  in  the 
Veronese  and  Venetian  plays  there  is  no  room  for  reasonable  excuse  if  the  Scene 
results  in  failure ;  still  less  in  the  play  under  consideration  should  the  acting  suffer, 
inasmuch  as  the  area  of  the  Monument  of  Egypt's  Queen  may  be  of  almost  any 
size. 

Antonys  house  at  Athens  might  be  one  of  the  old  Greek  houses  or  palaces,  with 
its  double  arrangement  of  Andronitis  and  Gynseconitis,  or  the  men's  and  women's 
quarters.  The  fourth  and  fifth  Scenes  of  the  third  Act  introduce  us  to  two  rooms 
in  this  house,  but  there  is  no  reason  why  one  interior  should  not  suffice  for  both 
Scenes,  if  the  proper  room  be  selected,  which  I  take  it  should  be  the  pillared  hall 
(avX^)  of  the  Andronitis,  which  in  a  Greek  house  occupies  the  place  of  the  Roman 
Atrium.  The  floor  might  be  of  mosaic,  whilst  both  the  ceiling  and  walls  might  be 
painted.  Pompeys  house  at  Messina  might  be  either  Roman  or  Greek,  or  half  and 
half.  ...  In  Antony  and  Cleopatra  there  is  not  one  word  about  architecture  or  build- 
ing, but  then  we  have  a  description  of  the  Queen*s  barge. 


LIST  OF  EMENDATIONS   ADOPTED   IN  THE  TEXT 
OF  THE  CAMBRIDGE  EDITION 

This  List  does  not  include  Stage  Directions ;  divisions  into  metrical  lines ;  mere 
punctuation,  such  as  changing  an  /  into  an  / ;  nor  changes  of  spelling,  such  as  /m- 
son'd  for  '  poisoned,'  therms  for  '  there  is,'  etc.  Nor  is  there  included  two  or  three 
changes  in  the  distribution  of  speeches,  which  were  self-evident ;  nor  such  changes 
as  M alone' s  Servants  for  the  Folio's  <Omnes.'  These  hardly  rise  to  the  dignity 
of  emendations.  The  Four  Folios  are  considered  as  one  text  The  lines  are  num- 
bered according  to  the  Folio  Text,  as  given  on  the  preceding  pages  of  the  present 
volume. 


598 


APPENDIX 


In  the  First  Scene  of  the  First  Act,  no 

emendation  has  been  admitted.     In  the 

following  passage 

S— 

Theobald          amends 

<  change ' 

to 

charge 

I. 

u» 

7 

It 

(( 

« foretell  * 

« 

fertUe 

u 

M 

40 

Warburton 

<( 

*  windes ' 

«< 

minds 

«• 

U 

12* 

Dycc 

M 

'how' 

K 

ho 

u 

« 

128 

Rowe 

« 

*  compelling  an ' 

<( 

a  compelling 

<4 

M 

160 

Pope 

<( 

Moue* 

« 

leave 

<« 

M 

203 

Rowe 

M 

•  heire ' 

44 

hair 

«< 

«f 

217 

Heath 

« 

*one* 

a 

our 

«C 

"▼l 

^ 

Johnson 

«( 

*  vouchsafe  * 

44 

vouchsafed 

« 

44 

10 

Malone 

M 

« foyles' 

u. 

soils 

M 

<4 

*7 

Theobald 

«< 

*  fear'd ' 

44 

dear'd 

M 

M 

51 

(( 

a 

*  lacking ' 

44 

lackeying 

«4 

« 

53 

Pope 

« 

<  vassailes ' 

4( 

wassails 

M 

44 

65 

Steevens 

(« 

'Was' 

44 

Wast 

M 

« 

66 

Theobald 

« 

<dumbe' 

44 

dumb'd 

«C 

V, 

5« 

Pope  (Ed.  ii) 

u 

*  neere ' 

44 

ne'er 

n. 

«» 

4S 

Rowe 

M 

*  not,  say  * 

44 

not  sOf 

M 

•  • 

141 

Warburton 

M 

*proofe* 

44 

reproof 

« 

« 

142 

Rowe 

«< 

*  gloue ' 

44 

glow 

II. 

ii. 

239 

Pope 

<« 

*  alway  'tis  * 

44 

away,  */is 

t 

•  •  • 

I". 

34 

Theobald 

«< 

*  Tawny  fine  * 

44 

Tawney-finn^d 

«< 

▼, 

16 

Tyrwhitt 

« 

*'Us* 

44 

• 

%s 

« 

C( 

54 

Heath 

4< 

'  meaning ' 

44 

meanings 

«4 

▼i. 

«♦ 

Capell 

<C 

*  Hue ' 

44 

luf 

<« 

•  • 

14 

Rowe 

<« 

« then  he  is  * 

44 

then  is 

« 

44 

109 

Theobald 

(« 

*  bcate ' 

44 

bear 

M 

•4 

130 

Hanmer 

M 

'figure* 

44 

figures 

III. 

ii. 

18 

Theobald 

l< 

*  weepc  * 

44 

wept 

M 

M 

70 

Thirlby 

M 

Mook't* 

M 

tookU 

«< 

iv. 

10 

Capell 

<« 

*  the  other ' 

44 

the  one  the  other 

«4 

V. 

15 

Johnson 

(4 

'  hither ' 

44 

he  there 

U. 

▼i. 

14 

Theobald 

M 

*  abstract ' 

44 

obstruct 

M 

M 

67 

Capell 

<( 

*  makes  his ' 

44 

make  them 

U 

« 

96 

Theobald 

M 

<  Leaders  leade ' 

a 

leader's  led 

4C 

85 

Pope 

« 

•Ven.' 

44 

Can. 

«< 

M 

«9 

Capell 

«< 

'  Thantoniad ' 

4( 

The  Antoniad 

4C 

X, 

6 

t( 

i( 

« them ' 

44 

that 

III, 

», 

21 

Rowe 

l( 

*  stowe  * 

41 

tow 

M 

u 

64 

Theobald 

44 

•The' 

41 

Thy 

U 

M 

65 

(« 

<4 

« Thidias ' 

14 

Thyreus 

M 

•  • 

xu. 

3« 

Pope 

« 

•the' 

M 

this 

44 

•  •• 

sill, 

127 

Hanmer 

« 

•Caesarian  smile' 

44 

CasarioH  smite 

•< 

44 

194 

Thirlby 

<( 

•  discandering ' 

14 

discandyimg 

M 

u 

«97 

Rowe 

« 

•in' 

« 

on 

« 

M 

235 

Hanmer 

M 

•  thine ' 

44 

mine 

XV, 

iv. 

6 

Theobald 

« 

•guests' 

a 

gests 

M 

viii, 

4 

u 

M 

•BaTouriiig' 

44 

favouring 

« 

« 

30 

PLAN  OF  THE  WORK 


599 


Capell 

amends 

'  auguries  * 

to 

augerers 

IV, 

•  • 

7 

Hanmer 

(( 

<  pannelled ' 

«( 

spanieVd 

«« 

«i 

26 

Thirlby 

i< 

« dolu ' 

M 

doits 

« 

«l 

44 

Rowe 

<i 

*  toward ' 

(« 

tower' d 

« 

xiv, 

6 

Theobald 

K 

'  dislimes ' 

<« 

diilimns 

M 

« 

H 

Pope 

«« 

*  when  * 

<l 

where 

l( 

XT, 

51 

Johnson 

«< 

•in' 

(« 

e'en 

«( 

<c 

93 

Rowe 

<« 

'leave* 

l( 

live 

V, 

• 

1. 

7a 

Warburton 

<i 

*  dung  * 

M 

dug 

«« 

•  • 

8 

Theobald 

«< 

*  Anthony ' 

«l 

autumn 

« 

14 

in6 

Capell 

t« 

*  suites ' 

41 

smites 

(« 

M 

126 

ti 

« 

« wilde  * 

l( 

vile 

M 

<t 

369 

Pope 

M 

*  away  * 

M 

awry 

« 

« 

373 

PLAN  OF  THE  WORK,  etc. 

In  this  Edition  the  attempt  is  made  to  give,  in  the  shape  of  Textual  Notes, 
on  the  same  page  with  the  Text,  all  the  Various  Readings  of  The  Tragedie  of 
Anthony  and  Cleopatra^  from  the  Second  Folio  down  to  the  latest  critical  Edition  of 
the  play ;  then,  as  Commentary,  follow  the  Notes  which  the  Editor  has  thought 
worthy  of  insertion,  not  only  for  the  purpose  of  elucidating  the  text,  but  at  times  as 
illustrations  of  the  History  of  Shakespearian  criticism.  In  the  Appendix  will  be 
found  criticisms  and  discussions  which,  on  the  score  of  length,  oould  not  be  con- 
veniently included  in  the  Commentary. 


LIST  OF  EDITIONS  COLLATED  IN  THE  TEXTUAL  NOTES 


The  Second  Folio [F,] .  . 

The  Third  Folio [F,] .  . 

The  Fourth  Fouo [FJ .  . 

N.  Rowe  (First  Edition) [Rowe] 

N.  Rowe  (Second  Edition) [Rowe  ii] 

A.  Pope  (First  EdiUon)  [Popc] 

A.  Pope  (Second  Edition) [Pope  ii] 


[Theob.] 
[Theob.  ii] 
[Han.] 
[Han.  ii] 
[Warb.] 
[Cap.] 


L.  Theobald  (First  Edition)  

L.  Theobald  (Second  Edition)        

Sir  T.  Hanmer  (First  Edition)        

Sir  T.  Hanmer  (Second  Edition) 

W.  Warburton  

E.  Capell        

Dr  Johnson [Johns.] 

Johnson  and  Steevens  [Var.  '73] 

Johnson  and  Steevens         [Var.  '78] 

Johnson  and  Steevens         [Var.  '85] 

J.  Rann  [Ran.] 

E.  Malonb [Mai.] 

Geo.  Steevens [Steev.] 

Reed*s  Steevens        [Var.  '03] 

Rbbd's  Steevens       [Var.  '13] 


1632 
1664 
1685 
1709 
1714 

1723 
1728 

1733 
1740 

1744 
1745 

1747 
(?)  1761 

1765 

1773 
1778 
1785 

1787 
1790 

1793 
1803 

1813 


gQQ  APPENDIX 

Boswux's  Maloxi C^"-] 

C  K:«GHT        [K^] 

J.  P.  COLUE&  (Fust  Editioii, [^<^] 

Sw  W.  Since*  (Second  Ediboa)         [^Mag.  ii] 

A.  I>YCE  i^ First  Editioo)  [^«] 

H.  Staunton L^] 

J.  P.  CoLUDi  (Second  Editioaj         [ColL  n] 

R.  G.  White  (First  Editioa) [^T*-] 

Cambkjdge  (First  Editioo,  W.  G.  Claee  mmI  W.  A. 

Weight) [C««-] 

T.  KncHTixY [^^yl 

Gu»E  EDiTioif  (CiAEK  and  Weight)  .  -  [Gio.] 

J.  O- Haijjwell  (Folk)  lUfitJoo) P^*^^_ 

A.  Dtce  (Sccood  Editioo) \Pl^  «] 

A.  Dyce  ^Tbird  Edition)        [Dyce  iix] 

J.  P.  COLLISE  (Third  Edition)  [CdL  m] 

R.  G.  White  ^Second  Edition)         [Wli.  ii] 

Cambeidge  (SccDod  Editioo,  W.  A.  Weight)         .  .  [Cam.  n] 

Ret.  John  Hcxtee  (Loognnns'  Series)     .  .  [Hnnter] 

N.  Deuts        [P«^] 

W.  J.  ROLJE [Rtf«] 

H.  N.  Hudson  [Hods.] 

F.  A.  BiAESHALL  {Hinry  Irving  EiHtidm)  .  . 

K.  Deichton  P^] 

C  H.  Heefoed  

C  WOEDSWOETH  [Wofds.] 


•    •                    •     • 

1S2Z 

(?) 

I&4D 

I&^ 

iS>6 

1S57 

1857 

iS0 

idoo 

uc»5 

iSq4 

1S64 

1S65 

1866 

1S75 

1877 

iJiS^ 

1892 

London, 

,  1870 

Elbcdeki, 

1S72 

New  YoA, 

1904 

Boston^  i88z 

London, 

.  iffl9 

• 

iQor 

New  Yo«k,  IOCS 
1893 


These  last  eight 


I  hare  not  ooHjued  beyood  irfniing  to  then  in  «T;*^m*<t 


Within  the  Ust  twentj-fiTe  years* — indeed,  since  dfee  appearance,  in  l9G4.  ci 
Tie  Globe  EJinam^ — the  text  of  Shakespeaee  is  became  so  settled  that  to  collatt; 
wofd  for  word,  the  text  of  ecfitions  whsch  hare  Appcjtred  within  &is  fma,  would 
be  a  oeecfless  tmsk.  When,  howrver,  an  E(&Dr  rrvises  his  text  in  a  Secmid  cr  a 
Third  y^twn  the  case  is  different;  it  then  becomes  interesting  to  mnk  die  cfisct 
of  BBtBier  judgement. 

The  present  Text  is  thxt  of  the  FiEsr  Folio  of  1623.     Every  word,  I  migte 
ay  afamxt  every  letter,  has  been  collated  with  the  original ;  yet  I  am  not  s>  BKxpe- 
as  to  betieve  that  it  is  absoloteiy  perfect. 

In  die  Textual  Notes  the  symbol  Ff  'm^He^tw^  the  agreement  e£  the  Secwmd^ 
iy  and  Famrth  Fatios. 

I  have  not  called  attention  to  every  littfe  miyint  in  die  FoGo.  The  Textmxi 
Nates  win  show,  if  need  be,  dut  titey  are  mispiints  by  die  agiujuuit  of  all  the 
EfStors  in  their  corrections. 

Nor  is  notice  taken  of  the  first  E<fitor  who  adopted  the  modem  spdEag,  cr  sdb> 
ttitnted  commas  fisr  a  parenthesis,  or  changed  ?  to  L 

The  sgn  -  indicates  the  agreement  of  RowE,  PoFS,  Theoeatti,  Hanxix, 
WAEBtniTON,  and  Johnson. 


LIST  OF  BOOKS 


60I 


When  Wakbuktoh  precedes  Hanheb  in  the  Ttxttml  Nalis,  it  iadicUei  Ihat 
Hanmeb  bM  ToUowed  a  niggesUoo  of  Warburton's. 

Tbe  words  it  at.  after  an;  reading  indicate  that  it  ii  the  reading  of  all  olier 
editions. 

The  words  el  teg.  indicate  the  agreement  of  all  Hibsequent  editions. 

The  abbreiiatioii  {^lubj.)  indicates  that  the  reading  is  ix^iAin/iditf)' given,  and  that 
itnmaieria]  vaiiatioos  in  spelliog,  punctuation,  or  stage-directions  are  disregarded. 

When  yarr.  precedes  Steev.  or  Afal.  it  includes  the  Variarumi  of  1773,  1778,  and 
17S5  >  wlKn  it  follows  Sttcv.  or  Mai.  it  includes  the  Varionma  of  1803,  1813,  and 
1831. 

An  Emendation  or  Correction  given  in  the  Graunentary  is  not  repeated  in  the 
Ttxttml  Note],  unless  it  has  been  adopted  hj  an  Editor  in  his  Text ;  nor  is  cbhJ. 
added  in  the  Textual  Nota  to  the  name  of  him  who  has  proposed  the  conjecture, 
unless  the  coojecture  happens  to  be  that  of  an  Editor,  in  which  case  omission  of 
MS;,  would  lead  to  the  inference  that  such  was  the  reading  of  his  teiL 

Coll.  MS  refers  to  Collier's  copy  of  the  Second  Folio  bearing  in  its  margin 
manuscript  annotations.  When  Collier  adopted  its  readings  in  his  Text,  it  is  placed 
in  parenthesis  (MS).  Coll.  '53  stands  for  a  monovolume  which  Colurk  issued  in 
1853,  wherein  these  MS  readings  are  incorporMed  in  the  Text 


LIST  OF  BOOKS 


%  in  the  foregoing  pages,  as  a  general  mle  merely  the  name 
of  an  author  has  been  given,  fallowed,  in  parenthesis,  by  tbe  number  of  rolumc 
and  page. 

Id  the  following  List,  artanged  alphabetically,  enough  of  the  full  titles  is  set 
forth  to  serve  the  purposes  of  either  identification  or  reference. 

Be  it  understood  that  this  List  contains  only  those  books  wherefrom  quotations 
have  been  taken  at  first  hand.  It  does  not  include  those  which  have  been  consulted 
or  used  in  verifying  references ;  were  these  included  the  list  would  be  very  many 
times  longer. 

E.  A.  Abbott  :  Skakapearuai  Grammar         London,  1870 

A.  A.  Adie  :  LUerary  World,  21  April           Boston,  1883 

V,  ALnERt :  Anlmio  e  CUspatra  (Bohn's  Edition)    .  .  London,  1876 

C  At-LEN  :   Notts  m  lit  Bacim-Shaittptari  QutsHim  .  .          .  .  Boston,  I9OO 

Anon.  [R.  Cartwright]  SonHeti  of  Shakitptan.  etc.          .  .  London,  1859 

E.  Arber  !  Transcript  of  the  StaHontr's  Rtgisttrt  ....  "  1877 
W.  R.  AnKOWSMrrH  :  Skaittptar^ s  Editors  and  Ominenlators  "  1865 
C.  TON  AvrBNHOFF:   Klttpatra  und  AntBHtm             .  .          .  •  Wien,  1808 

S.  Bailw  :  Rtetivtd  Text  of  SAaieifitart        London,  i86« 

C  Bathhrst  :  Differtnces  of  Skuteipeare's  VertificaHon,  etc.  "         1857 

Batman  vitok  Bartbolome:  Dt  Proprietatihus  fltrum,  etc.  "         1581 

T,  S.  BaTHKs  :  SMaktsftart  Sttiditt "          '896 

Beaumont  and  I' LtTCHiR :   Thi  False  Ont  (ed.  Dyce)         .  .  "         '844 

W.  BlacKsTCiVR  :   Skaketpeari  Society's  Paptrs            ....  "          1844 

W.  Blades  :  Shake^tart  and  Typograpky "         187a 

K.  B1.UMHOFF  :  AMotty  mJ  Cleopatra.     Brklirt  tmt           .  .  Celle,  1868 

F.  S.  Boas  :  Shattiptart  amd  kit  Prtdtetsiors. London,  1896 


6o2 


APPEKDIX 


J.  B.  R.  BoiSTEL:  Aniaimt  ei  Cliopairt            Vwc&^  1743 

R,  W.  Bond:    Works  of  John  Lyly Oxford,  J  902 

A.  C  BCADLE)'  :  Shakespearian  Tragedy         .  .         .  .         .  .  IjWMinn,  1905 

•*                    Quarterly  Krvieu\  April *•          2906 

F.  B&ADNACX  :  Medical  Record^  I  Februaij New  York,  1S79 

J.  BbaND:  Popular  Antiquities              Tjnndfm,  1873 

£.  C  B&EWER :  Reader's  Handbook **          1888 

Sir  Thomas  Browne  :  Vulgar  Errors            **■        ibj2 

J.  C  Bdccniix:  Medical  Knowledge  of  Shakespeare  ....  ^          i860 

J.  Bulloch:  Studies  of  the  Text  of  Shakespeare          ....  "          X87S 

K.  Burton  :  Anatomy'  of  Metancholy                 .  .          .  .          .  .  Oicfard,  1651 

JcttiK,  Lord  CAMPBiax :  Shakespeare" s  Legal  Acquirements ,  .  Nrw  York,  1859 

T.  Campbell  :  Shakespeare  s  Dramatic  Works            .  .  L.ondoxi,  1S66 

A.  S.  G.  Canning  :  Shakespeare  Studies  in  Eight  Plays        .  .  ^         1 003 

E.  Capell  :  A  «to,  etc "         rjjy 

**            Version  for  Garrick            .  .          .  ,          ,  .         .  ,  **          1758 

R.  Cartwright  [Anon.]  Sonnets  of  Shakespeare  Re-arranged  «          1B59 

**                New  Readings  in  Shake^eare           ....  "          x886 

Daniel  Casper  ton  Lohenstein  :  Cleopatra fireskn,  i66x 

•••*••                          **             (and  Ed.)    ..  ^         16S0 

G.  Chalmers:  Sa^rplemental Apo2og}\  etc London,  1799 

"W.  &  R.  Chambers  :  Book  of  Days Edmbnz^  1863 

I>£  LA  Chapet.I.F  :   Cleapatre Fazk,  idSs 

F.  CoHN :    Punfundsechzigster  Jahresberichi  d    Schlesxschen 

GeseOschafi  f.  vaterBndische  Cultur          Bxeslan,  18S8 

H/OiTUT  CoLmiDGE  :  Essays  and  Mtxrginalia                       .  .  Lopndan,  1851 

S.  T.  CoLEBlDGE :  JLectures  and  Notes  on  Shake^aere  ....  ^          1%7 

J.  P.  CoLUER ;  Nates  and  Emendations^  etc *»         1^3 

J.  Chltlton  Collins  :  Essays  and  Studies «*          iSgg 

**  Studies  in  Shakespeare  Wettmmster,  1904 

*•                      Pinner  of  Wakefield  hy  R.  Greene    .  .  Qxfionl,  1905 

G.  Conrad  :   Cleopatra^  Trauerspiel  in  einem  Anfamge           .  .  Beriixv,  1S77 

H.  Corson  :  Jntmduction  to  Shakespeare          ^^^^^^^^^  1SS9 

"W.  1.  CoURTHOPF. :  History-  ef  English  Poetry  T.n«>i^or|    iqog 

G,  L.  Craie  :  Enghsh  of  Shakespeare              *         1S57 

J.  Crchtt:  Annotations  on  Shakespeare's  Plays  York,  iSxo 
}.  Crosby  :  Shakespearusna^  Fefaruoxy                                                niDadelpiua,  28S4 

P.  A.  Daniel  :  Notes  and  Conjectural  Emendations  .  .  ''-'*'*'^^m^  Z870 

S.  Daniel:   71u  Tragedie  of  Clecpatra  (ed.  Gniaal)  ....  «•         1594 

T.  DaVIB  :  DramatL-  Miscellanies        ••         1785 

K.  DEtOHTOK:   Old  Dramatisti.   C on fectural  Readings  Calcantu,  1898 

G.  Dklfino:  La  Cleopatra         I^dovm,  1733 

F.  DrNRKlSTBtiT :  Antmuus  umd  Cleopatra Wie&,  1879 

F.  DonCR  :  JliustTUtism;  of  Shnkespeart,  etc ^--*^'Ti^  1807 

T^  Wc^i^Kweaii  SUtak^err :  His  Mmd  atuj  Art              ....  *          1875 

y^X^hXM.',  SkmketpeareemdBis  Times           *-         1817 

A.  Dvcv :  Remarks  on  Colher's  and  Knigkl's  Editiom         .  .  «         1844 

*•           Pnt'  Notes,  etc           • 

*«           Slmauru  on  C^Oer's  New  Edition             ....  «• 


LiST  OF  BOOKS 


603 

J.  EabLE  :  PkiUltgy  aflhe  English  Tongme Oxroid,  1S79 

T.  Edwards  :  Cdiuiu  ^  CriAVutn^ LondoD,  1765 

H.  N.  ElXACOMBK:  PlaiU  Lore  ff  Skakisptare           .  .          .  .  Exeter,  1878 

/l.}.^\.1.\%:  Early  English  rronuncialwn LondoQ,  1G69 

C.  I.  ELTON!   Shaksspfart     Jlis  l-„mi!y and Fritmis             ..  "          1904 

K.  ElzEi  JValeian  Etizabithan JiramaUstt HsUe,  1889 

W.  Everett;  Six  Cleopairas  (Atlantic  Montbly,  Feb.)       .  .  Boslun,  1905 

F.  W.  Fairholt:  DramatU  Weris  of  John  Lyly  London,  1858 

Y.G.S\SJCi:   Shak.sfiart  Mmual "         1876 

John  Florio:  Sc^md FrvUs                "         159' 

A.TSJ^KCS.:  yi/Lillirairr    Qualriinu  Sirit) Paris,  n.  d, 

W.  Franz:   Shahsfiarf-Grammatik Halle,  1898 

K.  FrENIEL     £crlinir  Dramaturgie BeiUn,  1871 

H.  VON  Triesen     SAai»fiKrf-StudUn             Wien,  1876 

F.  J   FuKNiVAU,    InlrvJuciiBH  /i7The  Leopold  Shakipete  ,  .  London,  1877 

R,  Garhett  :  £nglish  Ziliraturt          "          I9<»3 

R.  Garnier  :  M.  Anieint.     Tragnlit Rooen,  1616 

R.  Gen&e  j  Gtuhiekit  der  Siaitipearii^hm  Dramm  in  Deutsih- 

land Leipzig,  (870 

J.  Gbnest:   The  F.nglish  Siagt,  1660-1830 Baib,  1831 

J.  Gerarde:   Thi  He^all,  nr  GtntraH  Histori4  of  Planus  .  .  London,  1633 

G.  G.  Gervinus;  Shaiespean  (jte  Aufl.) Leipzig,  1861 

II.  Giles  :   Iluman  Lift  in  Shake.pearf            Boston,  1868 

Saint-Marc  GiraRDIN  :    Vours  d/  Liltirattire  Dramaliqtu  .  .  Parii,  1S60 

Mad.  EuiLR  HE  Gikardi>      (Eui'm  Complilts           ....  "       1S60 

J.  W.  VON  GOETJIE     Shakfipcare  und  A'ein  EnJr,  1813        .  .  StDttgait,  1840 

A.  GoLDiNO     The  XK  Booki  of  P.  Ouiditu  Nasa,  etc         .  .  London,  1567 

G.  Gould  :  Carrigmda,  etc "         1884 

H.  Green;  Shaktsptan  and Ikt  Embltm  Writers  ....  "  1870 
Z.    Grey  :     Critical,    Histerieal,   and  Explanatory   Nefes   on 

Shaitspiart -          17S4 

')\Xi^^\rrv\^&:  Morality  of  Skaii^<are's  Drama     ....  "          177S 

L.  H.  GrindoN  1   Shoinptare  Flora                   MancheUer,  1883 

yi,.G\i\ZQ!7:  (EuvraCompUlisdeShaktspfarf                          ..  Paris,  1868 

H.  IlALLAH      Zileralurt  ef  Europe London,  1839 

J.  O.  HftLiJWELL  Sftfittd Notts  on  Antony  and  CUopatra  .  .  "  1868 
W,   Harrison     Discriplion  of  England  (Prelized  to  Holins- 

]ied*5  Chroniilts)                     "          1587 

J.  E.  Hartinu     Omilhehsy  of  Skaktsftare "         1871 

W.  HailitT;    CharacUrs  of  Skakesptitt,-    Plays         ....  -          1817 

Mlitabetkan  Litiralun "          1 869 

B.  Heath  :   Rniisal  tf  Skakriptarf- s  Text "         1765 

H.  Heine:  ^mmllitkt  mrkf,  stcrBand Philadelphia,  iSS* 

J.  A.  Heraud    Skaiipert:  lUs  Inner  Lift London,  1865 

P.  Hctsr     Anionim  and  KUopatra  (ed.  Bodeostedt)           .  .  Leipsg,  1867 

E.  A.  Hitchcock     Ftmarks  on  tkt  Sonntts  of  Skaktsptart .  .  New  York,  1S66 

P.  Holland     Pliniis  Naturall  Hitierit         London,  163s 

Fran(;»[s- Victor  Hugo     (Euvrts  Com^itts  de  Skaktsptart ,  .  Paris,  1868 

Joseph  Hunter:  Nen  nittstralioms  of  Skaktsptart    .  .        .  .  Londoo,  1845 


6o4  APPENDIX 

C  M.  Ingleby  :  Shakespeare  Hermtnemtici •* 

"                Shakespeare^  the  Man             " 

Z.  JaocSOK  :  Shakespeare's  Genius  Justified ** 

Mrs  Jameson  :  Characteristics  of  Womem         .  .         .  .         .  .  ** 

E.  JoDELLE :   Cleopatre  Captive Paris, 

T.  Keightley  :  Shakespeare  Expositor            LoDdon, 

A.  K.E&CKHOFFS  :   Casper  von,  Lohensiein''s  Trauerspiele        .  .  Paderbom, 

W-  Kelxy:  Notices  of  Leicester^  etc Londoin, 

A.  VON  KoTZEBUE :   Octavia Leipzig, 

F.  K&EYSSIG :  Vorlesungen  ueber  Shakespeare Berlin, 

W.  S.  Lakdor  :  Antony  and  Octavius London, 

F.  A.  Leo  :  Antonius  und  Cleopatra.     Neubearbeitet  von       .  .  Halle, 

««           Four  Chapters  of  North's  Plutarch^  etc     Photo- 
lithographed  from  the  Edition  of  IS9S       -  •                     -  •  Loodan, 
W.  \V.  Lloyd  :   Critical  Essay  (cd.  Singer,  1856)      ....  « 
T.  R.  LouNSBURY :  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist           .  .  New  York, 

J.  R.  Lowell  :  Among  my  Books          Boston, 

T.  LCFTON  :   Tkonsamd  Notable  Takings,  etc London, 

H.  Lyte  :  A  Nieue  Herball  or  Historie  of  Plantes  by  D.  R. 

Dodoens          « 

H.  W.  Mabie  :  Shakespeare  :  Poet^  Dramatist^  and  Man     .  .  New  York, 

D.  H.  Madden  :  Diary  of  Master  IVH&am  Silence    .  .         .  .  London, 

M.  Marmontel  :   CUcpatre        Paris, 

J.  MoNCK  Mason  :  Comments  on  [  Variorum,  17781  .  .         .  .  London, 

"               "                  "               Beaumont  and  Fletcher^  etc  « 

G.  Massey  :   The  Secret  Drama  of  Shakespeare' s  Sonnets      .  .  ** 
T.  May  :    The  Tragedie  of  Cleopatra,  Queen  of  Egypt            .  •  « 

G.  H.  Mocller  :  Auffassung  der  KJeepatra,  etc Ufan, 

J.  MoYES  :  Medicine,  etc  in  Shakespeenr*s  Plays                     .  .  Glasgow, 

S.  D.  M[oRGUEs]  :  Anioine  et  CUopatre           Paris, 

J.  Nichols  :   Literary  Illustrations,  etc   (Theobald's  and 

Warburton's  Correspondence) Irfmdon, 

J,  Nichols  :  Notes  on  Shakespeare         " 

North's  Plutarch  {Photolithographed  byT,  A.  Leo)            ,  .  •* 

J.  G.  Orger  :  Notes  on  Shakespeare's  Histories  and  Tragedies  *» 

B.  Pascal  :  Pens^es         Puis, 

C  E.  Pascoe  :  Dramatic  List l<nndan, 

F.  Peck  :  New  Memoirs  of  Milton         •• 

Sir  P,  Perring  :  Hard  Knots  in  Shakespeare « 

C  Phiuts  :  Lokalf&rbung  in  Shakespeare's  Dramen  (Jahres- 

beridit  der  h^eren  Bfizgerschule) K2ln, 

W.  PoEL  :  New  Shak^>ere  Society,      Transactions,  S  Nov.     .  .  T^w^Am^^ 

J«  P.  QUTNCY  :  Corrections  in  a  Ccpy  of  tie  Fourth  Folio       .  .  Boston, 

J.  RiTSON  :   C-ursory  Criticisms,  etc       ,  .         ,  ,         .  .         .  .  London, 

Vi*.  R,  Rye  :  England  as  Seen  by  Foreigners   .  .          •  .         -  .  •• 
A.  "W,  SCHLEGEL  :    Ueber  dramatische  Kunst  und  Literatur .  .       Heid^bo^, 
A.  ScHMTDT :  Antonius  und  Cleopatra  (ed.  Dentsche  Sfaake- 

«p(?arr-Ge!i^schaft') Bcifin, 

Sir  Walter  Scott  :  Works  efDrydm         Edtaboisfa, 


«7S 
881 

819 

833 

583 
867 

877 
865 

801 

862 

8s6 

870 

878 
856 
901 
870 
627 

578 
904 
897 
750 
785 
79S 
888 

654 
888 

896 
803 


817 

862 

878 
1890 

846 


740 
886 

887 
8S9 

854 

1702 

86s 
Sit 


870 

808 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  60$ 

H.  W.  Seager  :  Natural  History  in  Shakespeare's  Time       .  .  London,  1896 

Sir  C.  Sedlky  :  Antony  and  Cleopatra            "         1 677 

T.Seward:   Works  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher           ..         ..  «         1750 
Mary  Sidney,  Countess  of  Pembroke :   Tragedie  of  Antonie^ 

ijg2  (ed.  Alice  Luce)          Weimar,  1S97 

Sir  Philip  Sidney  :   The  Defence  of  Poesie London,  1598 

S.  W.  Singer  :   Text  of  Shakespeare  Vindicated^  etc '♦         1853 

A.  Skottowe:  Life  of  Shakespeare **         1824 

J.  Smith  :  Accidence  for  Young  Seamen  (Arber's  Reprint)  .  ,  "         1626 
Juuus,  Reichsgraf  von  Soden  :  Kleopatra  .  .        .  .       Locality  not  given,  1793 

A.  SoUMET :  Cliopatre Paris,  1825 

R.  Sprenger  :  Bemerkungen  zu  Dramen  Shakespearis        .  .  Northeim,  189I 

A.  Stahr  :  Cleopatra Berlin,  1864 

P.  Stapfer  :  Shakespeare  and  Classical  Antiquity       .  .         .  .  London,  1880 

A.  C.  Swinburne  :  A  Study  of  Shakespeare "         1880 

H.  A.  Taine  :  History  of  English  Literature Edinburgh,  1874 

B.  Ten  Brink  :  Five  Lectures  on  Shakespeare            .  .         .  .  New  York,  1895 

L.  Theobald  :  Shakespeare  Restored^  etc London,  1726 

A.  E.  Thiselton  :  Sotne  Textual  Notes  on  Antony  and  Cleopatra  **         1899 

R.  C.  Trench  :  Flutarch,  etc «*        1873 

T.  Tyrwhitt:   Observations  and  Conjecturest  etc Oxford,  1766 

J.  Upton  :  Critical  Observations  on  Shakespeare         .  .         .  .  London,  1746 

G.  C.  Verplanck  :  Shakespeare^ s  Flays          New  York,  1847 

F.  T.  VISCHER  :  Shakespeare-  Vortrage Stuttgart,  1905 

W.  S.  Walker  :  Versification    .  .         .  . , London,  1854 

**                Critical  Examination  of  Shakespeare's  Text  •*         i860 

A.  W.  Ward  :  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature        .  .  •*         1875 

T.  Warton  :  History  of  English  Poetry           "         1 778 

P.  Wh  alley  :  Enquiry  into  the  Learning  of  Shakespeare    .  .  "         1 748 

R.  G.  White  :  Shakespeare's  Scholar New  York,  1854 

<*              Studies  in  Shakespeare Boston,  1 886 

W.  Whiter  :  Specimen  of  a  Commentary  on  Shakespeare      .  .  London,  1 794 

G.  Wilkes  :  Shakespeare  from  an  American  Point  of  Viev  .  .  New  York,  1882 
W.  Winter:  Old  Shrines  and  Ivy «*         1892 

C.  Wordsworth  :  Shakespeare's  Knowledge  and  Use  of  the  Bible  London,  1864 


DICTIONARIES 

Prompiorium  Panmlorum^  etc.  (ed.  Albert  Way,  1865)  .  . 
Jehan  Palsgraue  :  Lesclarcissement  de  le  langue  Francoyse^ 

etc.  (Reprint,  1852) 

T.  Cooper  :    Thesaurus  Lingua  Pomana  et  Britannica,  etc. 

J.  Florio  :  His  firste  Fruites 

J.  Baret  :  An  Alvearie  or  Quadruple  Dictionaries  etc.         .  . 

J.  Florio  :  Second  Frvtes  

Claudius  Hollyband  ;  A  Dictionarie  French  and  English 

J.  Florio  :    Worlde  of  Wordes 

R.  Cotgrave  :  Dictionarie  of  the  French  and  English  Tongues 
J.  Florio  :  Queen  Annans  New  World  of  Words 


area. 

1440 

Paris, 

1530 

ndon. 

1573 

(4 

1578 

« 

1^80 

<l 

I  591 

« 

1593 

M 

1598 

« 

161 1 

M 

161 1 

6o6  APPENDIX 

M.  WlTHAU :  A  Diditmarit  tf  EmgSsk  amd  Latime^  etc      .  .  l^ominn,  1616 

Jom  lilHSHED :   The  Guide  imio  Tmffmes        ^         1617 

JOHK  BDLLOKAm :  Am  Enffhsk  ExpQsUar        ••         1621 

R.  PXKCZTALE  :  A  DiOumary  m  ^kmisk  and  Emg^&sA  (ed.  Mm  Am)     *         1623 

EdwaU)  Philups  :   Tir  New  World  of  Em^hsk  Word^  etc  «         1662 

Stkpbak  Skimnkr  :  Eiywiolt^com  LimguK  Anghcam^  dtc  *         167 1 

R.  K4JLES :  Gloomy  (ed.  Halliwell  and  Wn|^  1867)         .  .  «         ifta 
Wtuaam  Smith  :  Diaiamary  of  Greek  amd  Homam  Biogrt^y 

mmd  Mythology           *^         1844 

J.  BouviEft  :  Ztfap  Dictiouary FhiladdlplQa,  185S 

W.  H.  Smtth  :  Sailor's  Word-Booi London,  1S67 

J.  O.  Halliwell  :  Diaiomary  of  Archaic  Words       ....  "         1S6S 

J.  TBOiftAS  :  Dicdomary  of  Biography^  etc FhiladfTphia,  1S70 

A.  Schmidt  :  Shakespeare' Lexicon Beriin,  1874 

F.  H.  Stkatmann  :  DicHomary  of  the  Old  English  Lamgmage  Krefeld,  187S 

W.  W.  Skeat  :  Etymologiad  Dictionary          Osfdrd,  iSSit 

J.  A.  H.  MUREAT  :  New  English  Dictiamary "         188S 

J.  Wugbt  :  English  Dialect  DicOammry         London,  i%6 


AbhomitwIioD 206 

Abiliments 198 

Abrarption  of « 173 

of  /  .   .    .   54,  107,  1x7,  180 
Abstract  for  the  concrete  .    ...   20,  94 

Abstract  tr  obstmct 303 

Abstracts,  tfinai 59 

Abturd  or  »s»ured 359 

Action  grows  not  in  the  power    .   .  313 

Acts,  divisiOD  of S9 

Adjeclivfs  used  for  sdverbs  ,    ,    .    .  100 

Admitted  07- omitted 351 

Adoption  by  testunent 197 

A^ppa,  kit  kiilery 5 

Alarum 393 

Alfieri,  Vtrtiim 542 

Alms-diink IS3 

All-obeying  breath 246 

Alone      biyend  all  elhiTi 377 

Ani,  feiuliar  MSt 168 

Anon,    AthcDEuin    on  atlori  ...  $85 

Answer  other  merits 354 

Anthony,  my  oblivion  is  a  very   .   .  55 

Anthony  er  Autumn 344 

Appeal-accuse I94 

Approve 23 

Aiafaian  bird 175 

Armegaunt  steed 75 

Art  not  whsi  Ihou'rl  tare  of  .   .    .  139 
As-'inasmHih  di.simt  ....    61,  95 

As  she  would  wish 187 

Aspect,  ils  accent       73 

Assemble  me  or  assemUe  we  .   .    .  68 

Attraction  (him  /or  be) 173 

Attraction,  pluiaj  by 49 

Anguriea 392 

Away  or  awry 370 

Ayreuhoff,  Vtrsum 547 


Banquet      IJJ 

Bathurst,  m  Cltopaira yai 

en  tht  Dalt 384 

tMthtPlay 479 

Battaile 315 

Battery  from  my  heart 306 

Beaumont  &  Fletcher,  7'<U/a/ifO>M  516 

Beantious 144 

Becomings 57 

Beggar'*  nunc 334 

Beggary  in  love,  faraUil  fassaga  .  1$ 

liclng      it  inn f  or  ieing  10  .    ...  93 

Bends  adomings Ill 

Beqneath 106 

Besi- ten  Hue 51 

Best  you 277 

Billiards 138 

Birthday 356 

Black,  with  j^nchet 73 

Blood,  in 355 

Blown,  well 270 

hloyra—ftiffeJ 374 

Blows  my  heart 177 

Boas,  BH  Cliofaira 504 

"    M  Ike  Play 487 

Bochtu,  King  of  LyUa,  etc    .    ■   .  304 

Boggier 349 

Boistel,  Venim 53S 

Bool,  make 360 

Bourne 16 

Boy  Oesar 236 

Boy  my  greatness 358 

Boys,  as  we  rate 63 

Bradford,  on  Cltofalra 505 

Bradley,  on  Ikt  Plg^        490 

Breathless  pomre  breath  forth  .    .   .  119 

Breeie  — ofoi^ 219 

Brief  of  money 350 

Broad-fronted  Qesar 73 


6o8 


INDEX 


TAam 

Brooke,  Version 547 

Burgooet 72 

But      226 

But  ^nn/Aoia 291 

But  yet  is  as  a  jailor 135 

Called  into  a  huge  sphere    ....  155 

Call  on  him 62 

Campbell,  en  Dryden 475 

on  the  Play 478 

Canidius,  his  history 4 

Cantle 217 

Capell,  Vernon 585 

Carbnncled 283 

Carries  beyond  belief 213 

Cartwright,  on  the  Play 480 

Casper,  Version 527 

Q^A^  compute 176 

Catch  at  =  eager  attempt 358 

Caves  or  Canes 374 

Cement,  accent 177 

Chance,  ashes  of  my 353 

Chance  of  Anthony 221 

Change  his  horns 24 

Chapelle,  Version 535 

Chares 323 

Chariots,  plural  use 172 

Charm 293 

Child  o'  th'  time 164 

Gnthio,  Version 514 

Oeave  my  sides 306 

Cle<^>atra,  her  history   ......  7 

Clip 281,375 

Qoth  of  gold  of  tissue no 

Oond  in*s  face 180 

Coleridge,  ^n  M^ /Vtfr 11 

Coleridge,  Hartley,  on  the  Play  .    .  479 

Collins,  J.  C,  on  Drydm      ....  476 

Colour  in  thy  cheek       309 

Comparisons  or  caparisons    ....  237 

Competitor 58,  161,  331 

Compose 90 

O^mposition 90 

Concluf^ions  infinite 375 

Conclusion,  still 317 

Condition  =  iM/tofr 103 

Conditional  sentences 274 

Confound  —  waste 22,  63 


Confusion  of  final  d  and  e   .   .    .   .  130 

Conlord 153 

Conrad,   Version 578 

Considerate  stone 102 

Continent 306 

Contriving  =  j^loMmiiv^    .....  42 

Conversation  <=  jn^<r  ^ /{/^  .    .    .    .  151 

Convey  my  shame 227 

Qjorn^tA^ '^  corrected 310 

Corson,  on  the  Play 483 

(jOK\6.  =  inclincUion ^ 

Courser's  hair 43 

Conrthope,  on  the  Play 489 

Court  of  guard 284 

Crack,  a  greater 327 

Crested 343 

Cup  us 167 

QQn<ya&^  scrupulous 178 

Cnistness 91 

Daemon 123 

Daft 268 

Ty^JDH  —  doom 18 

Daniel,  G.  Costume 595 

Daniel,  P.  A.,  <m  Duration  of  Action  387 

Daniel,  S.,  Version 514 

Darting  Parthya 171 

Date  of  Composition 381 

Davies,  on  Actors 583 

on  Play 586 

Decorum,  in  Italics 31 

Defects  in  dramatic  construction  .  215 

Defects  of  judgement 96 

Delfino,   Version 524 

Demurely  wake  the  sleepers    .    .    .  288 

Demuring 318 

DenouncM  or  denounce 207 

DetenninM  things  to  destiny   .    .    .  205 

Determine,  in  legal  sense 271 

Detest 308 

Dido  and  her  iEneas 307 

Diminutives 297 

Dingelstedt,  Version 580 

Dion  Cassius 376 

Disaster  the  cheeks 155 

Discandering  or  discand3ring  .    .    .  253 

Disgested 106 

Disguise » disorder  by  drink    ,    .    .  168 


INDEX 


609 


PACB 

Dispatch  Enobarbus 272 

Disposed 313 

Dispunge 286 

Disputation  or  dq>atation     ....  244 

Distractions 214 

Dolabella,  his  history 6 

Dolphin-like 345 

Dolts  or  doits 297 

Double  comparative 204 

Dowden,  on  the  Play 481 

"         on  Cleopatra 503 

Drink  their  vapour 358 

Droven,  hapax  legemenon    ....  279 

Drums  demurely  wake 288 

Dryden,  All  for  Love 409 

Dumb  or  dumb'd 78 

Dung  or  dug 334 

Dungy  earth 19 

Duration  of  Action 386 

YMi^' plough 66 

Elements,  the 159,  178,  365 

Ellipsis 149 

Em/<?r  them 141 

Embossed 300 

Employ  me  to  him 342 

Enobarbus,  a  trisyllable  f 233 

"         his  history 3 

Enow 60 

Enter  .    .  * 312 

Entertainment 276 

Envy 353 

Epicurean,  its  Greek  accent ....  86 

Estridge 257 

Euphrates,  its  accent 34 

Everett,  on  Alfieri 542 

''       on  Mad,  de  Girardin  .    .    .  569 

Every  =■  every  one 28 

Evidence  or  credence 53 

Expedience 41 

Extended -^^ 

Eyne,  pink 166 

Faiery 281 

Fall  not  a  tear 329, 344 

Falliable 363 

False  One,  The 516 

False  Soul  of  Egypt 295 

39 


Fast  and  loose 

Fear,  becomes  a 

Fear  us 

Feared  by  being  lack' d 

Feature 

Feeders 

Fever,  used  causatively 

Fie  upon  •  but  yet ' 

Fishing,  as  a  fault 

Flaw 

Fleet-/iw/ 

Flower-soft • 

Fly  forth  of 

Foils  or  soils 

Foizon 

Fool,  a  strumpet's 

Yox^  in  the  quality  of 

For  or  'fore 

Forehead  as  low 

Forespoke 

Formall 

Forth  the  haven 

Frenzel,  on  the  Play 

Freytag,  on  the  banquet  scene  .    .    . 

YTOVEi=^  away  from 

From  and  of,  distinction  in  their  use . 

Fronted 

Frustrate 

Fulvia,  her  history 

Fumivall,  on  the  Play 


rAGB 

296 
124 

144 

141 
249 

251 

135 

58 

233 

254 

"7 

71 
62 

157 

IS 
29 

160 

186 

207 

134 
290 

495 
152 

MS 
124 

97 
32s 

17 
481 


Garboils      97 

Gamett,  on  the  Play 488 

Gamier,  Version 510 

Gaudy  night 256 

Gautier,    Criticism    on    Mad,    de 

Girardin 569 

Generals,  needless  genitive  ....  13 

Genest,  on  Brookes  Version   .   .    .  547 

"       on  CapelVs  Version    ...  586 

Gervinus,  on  the  Date 384 

"         on  the  Play 491 

Ghosted 143 

Giles,  on  Cleopatra 502 

Gipsies  lust 14 

Mad.  de  Girardin,  Version  ....  564 

Give  me  to  drink 70 

GOf  peculiar  significatiom 31 


6io 


INDEX 


PAGE 

Go  to,  go  Xq=^  nonsense^  namense  .  183 

Gole  for  golc 283 

Godwin,  on  Costume 595 

«        Stage  Setting 596 

Goetbe,  on  the  Play 491 

Good  sin 324 

Grand  sea,  his 230 

Grates  me 17 

Greed  (the  verb) 146 

Greek  accent 86 

Greet  together 88 

Griefs  ^grievances loi 

Grind  the  other 195 

Guests  or  gests 280 

Guizot,  on  the  Play 495 

H'^ache 279 

H,  'tis  made  an 279 

Hallam,  on  the  Play 478 

Halliwell-Phillipps,  on  the  Date     .  385 

Hard,  phonetic  spelling 119 

Harried 187 

Hart-royal 373 

Have  or  hate 169 

Hazlitt,  on  the  Play 477 

He  was,  monosyllabic 181 

Heart  of  loss 296 

Heaviness 319 

Heine,  on  Cleopatra 501 

Heraud,  on  the  Play 480 

Here's  sport  indeed  .......  318 

Hereditary  opposed  to  purchased  .    .  61 

Herod  of  Jewry 27,  183 

Heyse,  on  the  Play 492 

Hill  of  Basan 251 

His=iV:r 331 

Hither-^M^-^ 198 

Ho,  ho,  ho 263 

Holding,  the      166 

Honour  is  sacred 99 

Hoop  should  hold  us  staunch  ...  103 

Ho^,  its  peculiar  meaning  ,    ...  87 

How  =  ^<> 38,312 

How  the  news 36 

Hudson,  on  the  Play 483 

Hugo,  on  the  Play 496 

Huswife  Fortune 320 


/  in  t/>%  dropped  in  pronunciation 
die  talk  will  once  be  necessary  . 

mportune       

mpress 

n  hoopt 

ngram,  on  Metrical  Tests   .    .    . 

nnocents 

ntrinsecate 

nversion  =  conditional  sentence  . 

ron,  put  thine 

t,  referring  to  plural  substantive 


t  owne 


PACK 

86 

340 
3"6 
211 
126 

384 
136 

367 
274 

267 

83 
159 


247 

174 
500 

475 
505 


ack 

aded       , 

Mrs  Jameson,  on  Cleopatra  .    .    . 
"  on  Dryden     .    .    . 

"  on   Octavia    .    .    . 

Jodelle,   Version 507 

Johnson,  on  the  Play 477 

Jump 215 

Juvenal,  read  by  Shakespeare  ...      82 


Kemble,  Version  of  i8ij    ....  587 

"          Version 5S8 

Knew  £»r  Know 69 

Knight,  on  Actors 583 

on  CapeWs  Version    .    .    .  587 

on  the  Date 382 

Kotzebue,   Version 557 


u 


« 


La  and  lo 268 

Labour  mars *    •    .    .  307 

Lack  nobility 137 

Lacking  =»  lackeying 66 

Lamprius 24 

Lamdor .« 569 

Lated 221 

Launch  = /tfffr^ 330 

Laurel  victory 57 

Leave  =  /iW 332 

Length 306 

Lepidus,  his  history      i 

Leprosy 219 

Less  noble  mind 30S 

Lessons,  a  verb 221 

Lethied  dulness 86 

Libertine  in  a  field  of  Feasts   ...  85 


INDEX 


6ll 


PACS 

Lichas 299 

Lieutenantiy 225 

Light 62 

Live  confoanded  with  lie 41 

Liver 27 

Lloyd,  on  the  Play 479 

Look't  <;rtook't 189 

Lottery 120 

LouDsbury,  on  Dryden 476 

"          on  the  Play 487 

Love  or  leave  to  part 42 

Lowell,  on  Dryden 476 

Lufft 219 

Luxuriously 250 

Mabie,  on  the  Play 4S9 

Mad  Brutus 225 

Mecsenas,  his  history 5 

Made  his  will 188 

Main 43 

Make  boot 260 

Malone,  on  the  Date 381 

Mandragora 70 

Mankind,  its  accent 283 

Many  other  ways  to  die 259 

Marmontel,  Version 540 

Massey,  on  Cleopatra 503 

Matter  whole  you  have  to  make  it  with  95 

May,  Version 521 

Med'cine 74 

Meered  question 235 

Melvil,  Sir  James 141,  184 

Menas,  his  history 6 

Menecrates,  his  history 6 

Mens  judgements     ..**...  238 

Merely 208 

Messenger  or  messger 200 

Mingle 79,  284 

Mirth,  a 61 

'M\i&\vt'=  messenger 98 

Mocks  the  pauses 325 

Modem 353 

Modesty      136 

Moody 128 

M[orgues],  Version 558 

Morsel 250 

Most  ^'^  greatest 108 

Motion  or  notion 122 


PACK 

Muliters 3lo 

Music  .  .  .  under  the  Stage  ....  265 

Muss 247 

Nak'd 341 

Natture's  piece 347 

Needless  genitive 13 

Neere  =  «^^r 87 

Negligent  danger 204 

Next  Csesarion 253 

Nice 255 

Nickt 334 

Noble  spoken loo 

Noise  of  a  sea-fight 216 

Noises  it 206 

None,  a  pronoun 48 

Nor  you  thither 123 

Nothing  of  our  strife 99 

'SMUxhtt  ^  to  make  verses 1 76 

Oblivion  is  a  very  Anthony  ....  55 

Occasion » n^^^ 151 

Octavia,  her  history 9 

Octavius,  his  relation  to  Julius  Cixsar  i 

Odds 126 

Odds  is  gone 323 

0*re-count 145 

Of,  separating  action  from  verb  .    .  33 
Of  and  from,  distinction   in  their 

use 124, 199 

0{=  concerning^  about      .    .    .    .68,333 

Of,  after  verbal  nouns 83 

Of=^^ 107,124 

Oh 243 

Oily  palm 30 

Olive,  shall  bear  the 275 

Omission  of  prepositions 61 

*«       of  so  after  if 263 

On  =»  causal  after  verbs  of  motion     .  276 

Onc^=' sometimes 340 

One  great  or  Our  great 58 

Onion-eyed 263 

On  my  guard,  came 276 

On  or  upon,  certain  usage  of  .    .    .  127 

O  o'  th'  earth 343 

Orbs 352 

Ordinary II9 

Orient,  adjective 75 


6l2 


INDEX 


PAGB 

Ostentation  or  ostent 201 

Other  ways  to  die 259 

Packt  cards  with  Caesars 303 

Pageant 302 

Painted  one  way 142 

Pales,  a  verb 161 

PkUed 162 

Pannelled 293 

Pkrcel  the  sum 353 

Participle  expressing  a  condition  .    .  231 

Participles,  inflected 64 

Particular 237 

"        thine  own 286 

"        unusual  use  of 50 

Paitizan 155 

Pascal,  Aphorism 495 

Pauses,  mocks  the 325 

Philips,  on  Local  Colour 494 

Piece  of  virtue 177 

Photinus  or  Pothinus 208 

Pinch  one  another  by  the  disposition  154 

Pink  eyne 166 

Pitifully  disaster  the  cheeks  ....  155 

Rant-/w/ 153 

VUkits  —  silver  money 346 

Pleached 310 

Plebeian,  its  accent 297 

Pledge,  French  description  of  Eng- 
lish custom  162 

Plumpy 166 

Plutarch 388 

Points  »m^/a/  tags 253 

Pole,  the  soldiers 322 

Pompeius,  Sextus,  his  history  ...  2 

Vott^gate 269 

Ports  or  Fleets 64 

Possess  or  profess 165 

Posture  —  ^/'i^iVMwr 359 

Practise 92 

Pray  in  aid 336 

Pr^^nant 88 

Trcsently  ^  immediately 190 

**        "Shortly 194 

Primal  state 64 

Prison  or  poison 356 

Process 19 

Proculeius,  his  history 6 


PACK 

Project  =  term  of  perspective     .    .    .  349 

Prorogue 86 

Provided 356 

Put  colour  in  thy  cheeks 309 

Put  thine  iron  on 267 

Pyramid I57»34^ 

Pyramisis 158 

Quail '«  causative  verb    ....  229,  344 

Quick  comedians 358 

Quick  winds  or  quick  minds    ...  34 

Race  of  Heaven 48 

Rack  dislimns 303 

Ram  or  rain 132 

Ranged 19 

Ranges 234 

Rarely  base 352 

Raught 288 

Redundant  object 331 

Reeles  =  rrt/^i!f 59>i63»35S 

'Kt^mtni'=^  government 206 

Register      286 

Relative  pronouns 49 

Remarkable 322 

Reneages 13 

"Rc^rts^  reporters 94 

Reputation 227 

Requires 231 

Respective  construction 176 

Revel,  as  a  monosyllable  .    .  59,  163, 358 

Revels 358 

Revolution  lowring 38 

Ribaudred  nag 217 

Riggish 120 

Right  royal 242 

Rivality      194 

River  of  Sidnis 109 

Rome,  pronunciation 42 

Royal      373 

S  final,  its  omission  and  interpola' 

i*^ 59.  304*  358 

S  substituted  for  st 52 

Safe,  a  verb 50 

Salad  days 80 

SzXx.^  wanton 84 

Salt  fish 131 


S«y  not,  say  Agrippa 104 

Scald 358 

SuDtly l8« 

ScaiuM,  iii  Ais/ory 4 

Sch\tgti,  OK  tie  J'/ay I  a 

Scott,  on  Drydeit 473 

ScmpalouE  —  eaftiau 49 

Sea-<igfat 392 

Sealing >7S.307 

Sedlqr,  VrrsUm 531 

See  it  done 260 

Seel  our  eyes  or  lips 249>35' 

SeK-hwid 3*8 

Sennet 156 

Sequence  of  tenses 44 

Shall  and  wlW 81,  373 

Shards 177 

Sbt  iniltad  <i/\itt 148 

Shewes  lo  nun 40 

Shirt  of  Nessus 399 

Should      118,338 

Sfasnld'M  «Knr 338 

Shover  of  gold 134 

Shrewd .^.   ...    385 

Shrodenease   ....    T^'i   ...      98 

Shrond 344 . 

Sidney,  Maiy,  Tram,  cf  Gamier  .    513 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  Svmtut      .   .    .    176 

Signs  well 365 

Since  — i^uW- 44 

Sin,  good 334 

Site  o(  sorrow 314 

Skotlowe,  m  tit  Ptay 478 

"  tm  Cltepatra 500 

Sle^,  was  never  yet  Tor 287 

So -^  cenJiiiana/ conJuKctieH     .    .    .    236 

Ton  Soden,  rertiim 553 

Soldiers  pole 332 

Sooth-law 368 

So  tart  a  favoar  To  tnimpet ....    134 

Sonmet,  Vrrsum 560 

Source  of  the  Plot 387 

Spaniel'd 393 

Sptak^lo/gM 107. '45 

Sphere ISS.3'S.344 

Spirit    .  37,  97,  133,  179,  338,  343,  370 
3»i.  330.  354 


EX  613 

SplteU-i/JiU 168 

Spon  indeed 318 

Square  — fMurr// 88,339 

Square... bj  th' mle 131 

Squares  of  war 335 

Square  lo  her 109 

Stain  or  sbain I9I 

Stands  upon 89 

Stand  up 43 

SUpfer,  w«  lit  Play 496 

"      BH  Ottttviiu 506 

StaUon 18s 

Stomaching go 

Stomach  —  r«m< 189 

Strike  the  vessels 164 

Stroy'd 337 

SubjuncliTe  used  impeiatiTely  .    .   .  105 

Substitution  of  words 104 

SaKn-'lofiuHisk 339 

Suits  w  smites  or  shoots 347 

Supper 118 

Swan's  down  feather 179 

Swell  with  the  touches 1 17 

Swinburne,  on  l/u  Play 483 

Sword  Phillipan I3I 

Swoond, /muin«'a/(Dn 387 

Taine,  off  tit  Play 495 

Take  io 18, 309, 346 

Tall 143 

Targes 146 

Taurus,  his  kitlory 7 

Tawny  finn'd  fishes I30 

Tawny  front 13 

Teeth,  from  his 189 

Ttftapa  —  Umfitrament 13 

Tended  her  i' tb' eyes Ill 

Terrene  moon 353 

Testamentaiy  adoption 197 

Thee-f'lBV 380 

The  full  0r  Thy  full 338 

The  or  ye 353 

Then  er  thence      3oS 

llieme  for  yon 93 

ThidiM 133 

Thine  iron  on 36? 

Think  and  die 333 

Tbitber  or  hither 315 


6c4 


INDEX 


ik  d  -awcrid 274. 

i»- V^IP^ 

TifiiK  » kamdy 260 

Tune,  chud  1  di'  .    .    .    .           .    .  1(14. 

Tnirmrrf  y^riTmrr 2x7 

Too  &c  £.  &v  too-or            ...  J.3 

in .       -  Jji 

.   •       ...  jQ'' 

Tiade  in  lorre 12$ 

TnBBpaHtxon  n£  advcrbi  .....  26c 

'*            oi  prepGsitiaiii  127 

TrcBclL.  ^m  Antkemy 499 

4X2  :ta^e  perform- 

591 

Tripie  pillar 14. 

I'-i ....  393 

303 

Troth  ifaouid  be  silent zci 


JOXBC 


Wa^ed  jr 
Wand  '.13    .    . 
Wash  'Jie  -yes 


C  pHl  indicative  fonm  in   ...    .  13X 

ITnanne  Ena 305 

Uncmtabie 97 

Undid  did izi 

Unkiwd 201 

CTnpoiicxcd 367 

Upy  the  poor  cbird  is 194 

Upon +7 

UpOB^tKoAiifff  <» 36 

Upon  ^r  an,  cotain  use  of    ...    .  t27 

Vnuh 296 

Vanins,  ^m.  Vaxhis  CoCyU  ?  .    .    .    .  7 

Vaiynig  ihoie 3x5 

VmhuIs  0r  waauils ^ 

Vat.  «  Vemmmrd  ? 213 

Vcmidnu«  kit  huiory 3 

Veria  ending  in  -tt^  -i,  and  -d  ,   .   .  326 

Vefpianck»  M  iiir  i7tf^ 3^3 

Vi»     346 


Waat- 
WTai  dioa  rt 
Wlieei,  ireaic 
White  hand 
Wilde  jTTiie 
Wni  —  .-uvr9/>  ^uimrttr 
Will  ^zjKtf  :3iail  . 
Winter,  -m  the  Pfay 
Widow    ,    .    .    .    ' 

Witch 

Widi-w    -        .    . 


•« 


•• 


j^rral  itrmts 


Sits  nf^anis  . 

Won't 

WOf'.l  ^^  ^ootcaiscont 
Ward  31  war  .  .  . 
Work 

Wonn  of  Nilns 
Woithieat  self 
Wonid  =  rtriiktd 
Wrack  rt^aHmw* 
Wyndham.,  on  the  Flay 


LSI 


£za 


Yare 

Yarriy  .  ,  .  . 
Ye  for  yon  .  .  . 
Yield  yon  .  .  . 
Yon  reconciler  . 
Your,  eikicai  use 
Yanr  proof  .    .    . 


2CX 


i8« 


^3 

-J 


9*' 

■  xrs 
362 


too 

4^ 


211,  251,  304 

"7 
M9 


[92 
104 


Zielunkiy  am  CkanmoJiifi  wisJk 


3"'.. 


^    299^ 


3  bios  Dig  Ui  lU 


■TK 


'.IS 


a<f 


,3 


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