Classic Audiobook Collection - All for Love; or, The World Well Lost by John Dryden ~ Full Audiobook [tragedy]

Episode Date: October 30, 2023

All for Love; or, The World Well Lost by John Dryden audiobook. Genre: tragedy All for Love is widely considered to be John Dryden's finest work, dramatic or otherwise. A tragedy written in blank verse, it retells the story of Roman general Marc Antony's love affair with the alluring Egyptian queen Cleopatra and their eventual double-suicide. Compared to the more famous rendition of the tale by William Shakespeare, however, which is grand and hectic in terms of setting, Dryden chooses instead to focus in on the lovers' last days in Alexandria as the threat of their defeat looms and their legacies are contested. The result is a swelling, elegant, emotional drama that perceptively considers such themes as loyalty and love, fidelity in marriage, the lasting endurance of friendship, and even the tenuous construct of masculinity. In short, it's truly a gem of the Restoration repertoire. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 1 (00:33:10) Chapter 2 (01:01:15) Chapter 3 (01:31:31) Chapter 4 (02:06:57) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

All for Love, or The World Well Lost, a tragedy by John Dryden. Prologue What flocks of critics hover here today, as vultures wait on armies for their prey, all gaping for the carcass of a play. With croaking notes they bowed some dire event, and follow dying poets by the scent. Ars gives himself for gone. You've watched your time, he fights this day, unarmed, without his rhyme, and brings a tale which often has been told, as sad as

didos and almost as old. His hero, whom you wits his bully call, bates of his metal and scarce rants at all. He's somewhat lewd, but a well-meaning mind, weeps much, fights little, but is wondrous kind. In short, a pattern and companion fit, for all the keeping tonies of the pit. I could name more. A wife and mistress too, both to be plain, too good for most of you. The wife well-natured 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 hector's in at every petty fray. Let those find fault whose wits so very small they need to show that they can think at all. Errors like straws upon the surface flow. He who would search for pearls must dive below.

Phops may have leave to level all they can, as pygmies would be glad to lop a man. Half-wits are fleas, so little and so light, We scarce could know they live, but that they bite. But, as the rich, when tired with daily feasts, For change, become their next poor tenant's guests, Drink hearty draughts of ale from plain brown bowls, And snatch the homely russia from the coals. So you, retiring from much better cheer,

for once may venture to do penance here. And since that plenteous autumn now is past, whose grapes and peaches have indulged your taste, take in good part from our poor poets' board such rivaled fruits as winter can afford. Scene Alexandria. Act 1, the Temple of Isis. Enter Serapian, Mieris, priest.

of ISIS. Portents and prodigies have grown so frequent that they have lost their name. Our fruitful Nile flowed ere the wonted season, with a torrent so unexpected, and so wondrous fierce, that the wild deluge or took the haste, even of the hinds that watched it.

Men and beasts were born above the tops of the tops of, of trees that grew on the utmost margin of the watermark then with so swift an ebb the flood drove backward it slipped from underneath the scaly herd here monstrous foci panted on the shore forsaken dolphin there with their broad tails lay lashing the departing waves hard by them sea-horses floundering in the slimy mud tossed up their heads and dashed the ooze about them. Enter Alexis behind them. Avert these omens heaven. Last night, between the hours of twelve and one, in a lone isle of the temple while I walked,

a whirlwind rose that with a violent blast shook all the dome. The doors around me clapped. The iron wicket that defends the vault, where the long race of Ptolemies is laid, burst open and disclosed the mighty dead. From out each monument in order placed, an armid ghost starts up. The boy king last reared his inglorious head.

A peal of groans then followed, and a lamentable voice cried, Egypt is no more. My blood ran back, my shaking knees against each other, other not on the cold pavement down I fell entranced and so unfinished left the horrid scene Alexis showing himself and dreamed you this or did invent the story to frighten our Egyptian boys withal and train them up at times in fear of priesthood my lord I saw you not nor meant my word should reach your ears but what I uttered

was most true. A foolish dream, bred from the fumes of indigested feasts and holy luxury. I know my duty. This goes no further. This is not fit it should, nor would the times now bear it were it true. All southern from young hills, the Roman camp,

hung sore as black and threatening like a storm, just breaking on our heads. Our faint Egyptians pray for Antony, but in their servile hearts they own Octavius. Why then does Antony dream out his hours, and tempts not fortune for a noble day, which might redeem what Actium lost? He thinks his past recovery.

Yet the foe seems not to press the siege. Oh, there's the wonder. My kines and Agrippa, who can most with Caesar are his foes. His wife Octavia, driven from his house, solicits her revenge. And Dolabella, who was once his friend, upon some private grads, now seeks his ruin. Yet still war seems on either side to sleep. Tis strange that Antony, for some days past, has not beheld the face of Cleopatra. But here in Isis temple lives retired, and makes his heart a prey,

a black despair. Tis true, and we must fear he hopes by absence to cure his mind of love. If he be vanquished, or make his peace, Egypt is doomed to be a Roman province, and our plenteous harvests must then redeem the scarceness of their soil.

While Anthony stood firm, our Alexandria rivaled proud Rome, dominion's other seat, and fortune striding like a vast colossus could fix an equal foot of empire here had i might wist these tyrants of all nature who lord it our mankind would perish perish eats by the other sort but since our will is lamely followed by our power we must depend on one with him to rise or fall how stands the queen affected O, see doads, she dotes, Herapion, on this vanguest man, and wince herself about his mighty ruins, whom would she yet forsake, yet yield him up, this handed prey to his pursuer's hands, she might preserve us all, but is in vain, this changes my designs, this plasped my counsels,

and makes me use all means to keep him here, whom I could wish divided from her arms, far as the earth deep centre. Well, you know the state of things. No more of your illowments and black prognostics. Labour to confirm the people's hearts. Enter Ventidius, talking aside with a gentleman of Antony's. These Romans will all hear us. But who's that stranger?

By his warlike port, his fierce demeanour and erected look, He's of no vulgar a note. Ode is Vendatius, our emberos great lieutenant in the East, who first saw Rome that Parthia would be conquered. When Anthony returned from Syria last, he left this man to guard the Roman frontiers. You seem to know him well. Too well. I saw him at Sicilia first,

when Cleopatra there met Anthony. A mortal foe was to us and Egypt. but let me witness to the worth i hate a braver roman never drew a sword filmed to his prince but as a friend not slave he ne'er was of his pleasures but presides o'er all his cooler hours and morning counsels in sort the plainness fierceness ragged virtue of an old true stamp robin lives in him his coming boats i know not what avail to our affairs withdraw to mark him better, and I'll acquaint you why I sought you here, and what's our present work?' They withdraw to a corner of the stage, and, Ventidious, with the other, comes forward to the front. "'Not see him, say you? I say I must, and will.' He has commanded, on pain of death, none should approach his presence.

I bring him news that will raise his drooping spirits, give him new life. He sees not Cleopatra. Would he had never seen her? He eats not, drinks not, sleeps not, has no use of anything but thought. Or if he talks, tis to himself, and then tis perfect raving. Then he defies the world and bids it pass. Sometimes he gnaws his lips and curses loud the boy Octavius. Then he draws his mouth into a scornful smile, and cries,

Take all! The world's not worth my care. just just his nature virtues his path but sometimes tis too narrow for his vast soul and then he starts out wide and bounds into a vice that bears him far from his first course and plunges him in ills But when his danger makes him find his faults, quick to observe and full of sharp remorse, 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. He must not thus be lost. Alexis and the priests come forward. You have your full instructions, now advance.

proclaim your orders loudly. Romans, Egyptians, hear the Queen's command. Thus Cleopatra bids. Let labour cease. To pomp and triumphs give this happy day that gave the world a lord. Tis Antony's.

Live Anthony and Cleopatra live. Be this, the general voice sent up to heaven, and every public place repeat this echo. Fantidious aside. Fine pageantry. Set out before your doors the images of all your sleeping fathers, with laurels crowned. With laurels, wreaths, wreath your posts, and strew with flowers the pavement. Let the priests do present sacrament.

sacrifice, pour out the wine and call the gods to join with you in gladness. Curse on the tongue that bids this general joy! Can they be friends of Antony who revel when Antony's in danger? Hide for shame, you Romans, your great-grandsire's images, for fear their souls should animate their marbles to blush at their degenerate progeny. A love which knows no bounds to Andoni Would mark the day with honours When all heaven laboured for him When its propitious star

Stood wakeful in his orb Towards that hour and said his better influence Her own birthday, our queen neglected Like a vulgar fate That passed obscurely by Would it had slept Divided far from his till some remote and future age

had called it out to ruin some other prince, not him. Your emberer, though grown unkind, would be more gentle than to abrade, my queen, for loving him too well. Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the priest? He knows him not his executioner. Oh, she has decked his ruin with her love, led him in golden bands to gaudy,

daughter, and made perdition pleasing. She has left him the blank of what he was. I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him. Can any Roman see and know him now, thus altered from the lord of half-mankind, unbent, unsinued, made a woman's toy, shrunk from the vast extent of all his honours and cramped within a corner of the world. Oh, Anthony, thou bravest soldier and thou best of friends. Bounteous as nature, next to nature's God, couldst thou but make new worlds, so wouldst thou give them, as bounty were thy being,

rough in battle as the first Romans when they went to war, yet after victory more pitiful than all their praying virgins left at home. Would you could add to those more sign in virtues, his truth to her who loves him. Would I could not! But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee? Thou art her darling mischief, her chief engine, Antony's other fate.

Go tell thy queen, Ventidius is arrived, to end her charms. Let your Egyptian timbrels play alone, nor mix effeminate sounds with Roman trumpets. You dare not fight for Antony, go pray and keep your coward's holiday in temples. Exorned Alexis Serapian re-enter the gentleman of Mark Anthony. The Emperor approaches and commands on pain of death that none presume to stay.

I dare not disobey him. Going out with the other. Well, I dare, but I'll observe him first unseen and find which way his humour drives. The rest I'll venture. Withdraws. Enter Anthony, walking with a disturbed motion before he speaks. They tell me, tis my birthday, and I'll keep it with double pomp of sadness. Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath. Why was I raised the meteor of the world, hung in the skies, and blazing as I travelled till all my fires were spent, and then cast downward to be trod out by Caesar?

Vantidious aside. On my soul, tis mournful, wondrous mournful. Count thy gains. Now, Antony, wouldst thou be born for this? Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth astarve thy wanting age. Vantidious aside. Our sorrow shakes him. So now the tempest tears him up by the roots,

and on the ground extends the noble. ruin. Anthony having thrown himself down. Lie 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 it will be too large, when thou are contracted in thy narrow and shrunk to a few ashes. Then Octavia, for Cleopatra will not live to see it. Octavia then will have thee all her own. and bear thee in her widowed hand to Caesar. Caesar will weep, the crocodile will weep,

to see his rival of the universe lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no morot. Give me some music. Look that it'd be sad. I'll soothe my melancholy till I swell and burst myself with sighing. Soft music. It is somewhat to my humour. Stay, I fancy. I'm now turned wild.

a common of nature, of all forsaken and forsaking all, live in a shady forest sylvan scene, stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak, I leaned my head upon the mossy bark, and look just of a piece as I grew from it. My unconed locks, matted like mistletoe, hang over my hoary face, a murmuring brook runs at my foot.

Me thinks I fancy myself there, too. the herd come jumping by me and fearless quench their thirst will i look on and take me for their fellow citizen more of this image more it loves my thoughts soft music again i must disturb him i can hold no longer stands before him antony starting up art thou ventidious "'Are you, Anthony? "'I'm likeer what I was, "'than you to him I left you last. "'I'm angry. "'So am I.

"'I will be private. "'Leave me. "'Sir? "'I love you, "'and therefore will not leave you. "'Will not leave me? "'Where have you learnt that answer? "'Who am I?

"'My emperor, "'the man I love next heaven. "'If I said more, I think to a scare a sin. You're all that's good and godlike. Oh, that's wretched. You will not leave me, then. It was too presuming to say I would not,

but I dare not leave you. And it is unkind in you to chide me hence so soon when I so far have come to see you. Now thou hast seen me, art thou satisfied? For if a friend thou hast beheld enough, and of a foe too much. Look, Emperor, this is no common dew.

Vantidious weeping I have not wept this forty years, but now my mother comes fresh into my eyes. I cannot help her softness. By heavens he weeps, poor good old man he weeps. The big round drops course one another down, the furrows of his cheeks. Stop them ventidious, or I shall blush to death.

They set my shame that calls them full before me. I'll do my best. 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. Emperor. Emberer.

Why, that's the style of victory. The conquering soldier. red with unfelt wounds, salutes his general so, but nevermore shall that sound reach my ears. I warrant you. Actium. Actium! It sits too near you.

Here, here it lies the lump of lead-pike day, and in my short, distracted nightly slumbers, the hag that rides my dreams. Out with it! Give it vent! urge not my shame I lost a battle So has Julius done Thou favourst me

And speaks not have thou think'st For Julius fought it out and lost it fairly But Antony Nay stop not Antony Well thou wilt have it Like a coward fled Fled while a soldier's fought

Fled first Ventidius There longs to curse me And I give thee leave I know thou camp's prepared to rail I did I'll help thee I have been a man

Vintidious Yes And a brave one But I know thy meaning But I have lost my reason Have disgraced the name of soldier With inglorious ease

In the full vintage of my flowing Honours Sat still and sought still and saw it pressed by other hands. Fortune came smiling to my youth and wooed it, and purple greatness met my ripened years. When first I came to empire, I was born on tides of people, crowding to my triumphs, the wish of nations,

and the willing world received me as its pledge of future peace. I was so great, so happy, so beloved, fate could not ruin me, till I took pains and worked against my fortune, childed her from me and returned her loose. Yet still she came again. My careless days and my luxurious nights at length have wearied her and now she's gone.

Gone, gone, divorced forever. Help me soldier to curse this madman, this industrious fool who laboured to be wretched. Pretty curse me. No. Why? You were too sensible already of what you've done, too conscious of your failings, and like a scorpion whipped by others first to fury, sting yourself in mad revenge,

I would bring balm and pour it in your wounds, cure your distempered mind, and heal your fortunes. I know thou wouldst. I will. You laugh? I do. see of vicious love, give cordials to the dead. You would be lost, then? I am.

I say you are not. Try your fortune. I have to the utmost. Dost thou think me desperate without just cause? No. When I found all lost beyond repair, I hid me from the world, and learned to scorn it here. But now I do so heartily,

I think it is not worth the cause. of keeping. Caesar thinks not so. He'll thank you for the gift he could not take. You would be killed like Tully, would you? Do hold out your throat to Caesar and die tamely. No, I can kill myself and so resolve. I can die with you too when time shall serve.

But fortune calls upon us now to live, to fight, to conquer. Sure thou dreams, Ventilius. No, tis you dream. You sleep away your hours in desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy. Up, up, for honor's sake! Twelve legions wait you and long to call you chief. By painful journeys I led them, patient both of heat and hunger, down from the Parthian marches to the Nile.

It will do you good to see their sunburned faces, their scarred cheeks and chopped hands, there's virtue in them. They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates than yon-trim bands can buy. Where left you, then? I said in Lower Syria. Bring them hither. There may be life in these. They will not come. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids to double my despair?

They're mutinous. Most firm and loyal. Yet they will not march to succour me. O trifler! They petition you would make haste to head them. I am besieged. It's but one way shut up. How came I hither?

I will not stir. They would perhaps desire a better reason. I have never used my soldiers to demand a reason of my actions. Why did they refuse to march? They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. What was they said? 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'll 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. Ventidious, I allow your tongue-free license on all my other fault. But on your life, no word of Cleopatra. She deserves more worlds than I can lose. Behold you powers!

To whom you have entrusted humankind. See Europe, Africa, Asia, put in balance, and all weighed down by one light, worthless woman. I think the gods are Antony's, and give, like prodigals, this nether world away to none, but wasteful hands. You grew presumptuous. I take the privilege of plain love to speak.

Plain love, plain arrogance, plain insolence. Thy men are cowards. Thou an envious traitor, who, under seeming honesty, hast vented the burden of thy rank, o'er flowing gall. O that thou would my equal, great in arms as the first Caesar was,

that I might kill thee without a stain to honour. You may kill me. You have done more already. Called me traitor. Are thou not one? For showing you yourself, which none else durst have done, but had I been that name which I disdain to speak again, I needed not have sought your abject fortunes,

come to partake your fate to die with you. What hindered me to have led my conquering eagles to fill Octavius as bans? I could have been a traitor then, a glorious, happy traitor, and not have been so called. Forgive me, Socha. I have been too passionate. You thought me false, thought my old age betrayed you. Kill me, sir, pray, kill me. Yet you need not. Your unkindness has left your sword no work. I did not think so. I said it in my rage. Pray thee, forgive me.

Why didst thou tempt my anger by discovery of what I would not hear? No prince but you could merit that sincerity I used, nor durst another man have ventured it. But you, ere love misled your wandering eyes, were sure the chief and best of human race, framed in the very pride and boast of nature, so perfect that the gods who formed you, wondered at their own skill and cried. A lucky hit has mended our design. Their envy hindered, else you had been immortal, and a pattern when heaven would work for ostentation's sake to copy out again. But Cleopatra, go on, for I can bear it now. No more. Thou darest not trust my passion, but thou mayst. Thou only loves the rest have flattened me.

Heaven's blessing on your heart for that kind word. may i believe you love me speak again indeed i do speak this and this and this hugging him thy praises were unjust but i'll deserve them and yet mend all do with me what thou wilt lead me to victory thou knowest the way and will you leave this Prithee, do not curse her, and I will leave her, though heaven knows I love beyond life, conquest, empire, all but honour. But I will leave her. That's my royal master, and shall we fight? I warrant the old soldier, thou shalt beheld me once again in Ireland,

and at the head of our old troops that beat the Parthians cry aloud. Come follow me. Oh, now I hear my emperor, in that word Octavius' face. God's let me see that day, and if I have ten years behind, take all. I'll thank you for the exchange. Oh, Cleopatra! Again? I've done.

In that last sight she went. Caesar shall know what it is to force the lover from all he holds most dear. Methinks you breathe another soul, your looks are more divine. You speak a hero, and you move a God. Oh, thou hast fired me. My soul's up in arms And manned each part about me Once again that noble eagerness of fighters

Thieves me That eagerness with which I darted upward To Cassius's camp In vain the steepy hill opposed my way In vain a war of spears Sung round my head And planted on my shield I won the trenches

While my foremost men lagged on the plain below Ye gods For such another honour 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 them, mow them out of passage, and entering where the former squadrons yield, begin the noble harvest of the field.

End of Act 1. Act 2 of All for Love or the World Well Lost. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. All for Love or the World Well Lost by John Dryden. Act 2. Enter Cleopatra, Iris and Alexis. What shall I do, or whither shall I turn? Ventidius has all come, and he will go.

He goes to fight for you. Then he would see me ere he went to fight. Flatter me not. Once he goes, he's lost, and all my hopes destroyed. Does this weak passion become a mighty queen? I am no queen. Is this to be a queen, to be besieged 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 bans i'm fit to be a captive antony has taught my mind the fortune of a slave call reason to assist you 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 loved with such transcendent passion i soared at first quite out of reasons view, and now am lost above it. No, I am 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-natured, and bears a tender heart. I know him well. Ah, no, I know him not. I knew him once, but now

tis past. Let it be passed with you. Forget him, madam. Never, never, Iris. He once was mine, and once, though now tis gone, leaves a faint image of possession still. Think him in constant, cruel and ungrateful. I cannot. If I could, those thoughts were vain,

faithless, ungrateful, cruel though he be, I still must love him. Enter Carmian. Now, what news, my Carmian? Will he be kind, and will he not forsake me? Am I to live or die? Nay, do I live, or am I dead? For when he gave his answer, fate took the word, and then I lived or died.

I found him, madam. A long speech preparing, if thou bring's comfort, haste and give it to me, for never was more need. I know he loves you. Had he been kind, her eyes had told me so before her tongue could. could speak it, now she studies, to soften what he said, but give me death, just as he sent it, Kami, and undisguised, and in the words he spoke. I found him, then, encompassed around, I think, with iron statues. So mute, so motionless, his soldier stood, while awfully he cast his eyes about, and every leader's hopes or fears surveyed. Me thought he looked resolved,

and yet not pleased. When he beheld me, struggled, in the crowd, he blushed, and bade make way. There's comfort yet. Ventidious fixed his eyes upon my passage, severely, as he meant to frown me back, and sullenly gave place. I told my message, just as you gave it, broken and disordered. I numbered in it all your sighs and tears. And while I moved your pitiful request, that you but only begged a last farewell,

he fetched an inward groan, and every time I named you, sighed. as if his heart were breaking but shone my eyes and guiltily looked down he seemed not now that awful antony who shook an armed assembly with his nod but making sure as he would rub his eyes disguised and blotted out a falling tear 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 die contented he bid me say he knew himself so well he He could deny you nothing if he saw you, and therefore— Thou would say he would not see me? And therefore begged you not to use the power, which he could ill resist, yet he should ever respect you as he ought. Is that a word for Antony to use to Cleopatra?

Oh, that faint word, respect how I disdain it. Disdain myself for loving after it. He should have kept that word for cold Octavia. respect is for a wife am I that thing that dull incipid lump without desires and without power to give them you misjudge you see through love and that deludes your sight as what is straight seems crooked through the water but I who bear my reason undisturbed can see this Antony this dreaded man a fearful slave who fain would run away and sounds his master's eyes. If you pursue him, my life on it, he still drags a chain along

that needs must clock his flight. Could I believe thee? By every circumstance I know he loves. True, he's hard pressed by interest and by honour, yet he but doubts and parlies and casts out many a long look for shacker. He sins word, he feels, to see my face and would you more he saws his weakness who declines the

combat and you must urge your fortune could he speak more plainly to my ears the message sounds come to my rescue Cleopatra come come free me from ventitus 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, then he may bent more easy. You shall rule me, but all I fear in vain. Exit with Carmion and Iris. I fear so too, though I concealed my thoughts to make her bold, but is our utmost means

and fate befriended it. Withdraws. Enter Lictors with Faces, one bearing the eagle, then enter Anthony with Ventidius, followed by other commanders. Octavius is the minion of blind chance, but holds from virtue nothing. Has he courage? But just enough to season him from coward. Tis the colisties upon a charge, the most deliberate fighter.

If he ventures, as in Illyria once, they say he did to storm a town, tis when he cannot choose, when all the world have fixed their eyes upon him, and then he lives on that for seven years after. but at a close revenge he never fails. I heard you challenged him. I did, Vintidious. What think that was his answer? It was so tame.

He said he had more ways than one to die. I had not. Poor. He is more ways than one, but he would choose them all before that one. He first would choose an ague or a fever. No, it must be an ague, not a fever. He is not warmth enough to die by that.

or old age and a bed I there's his choice He would live like a lamp To the last wink And crawl the utmost verge of life O Hercules Why should a man like this Who dares not trust his fate

For one great action Be all the care of heaven Why should he lord it over fourscore thousand men Of whom each one is braver than himself You conquered for him Philippine knows it There you shared with him that empire which your sword made all your own.

Fool that I was, upon my eagle's wings I bore this wren, till I was tired of was soaring, and now he mounts above me. Good heavens, is this? Is this the man who braves me? Who bids my age make way? Drives me before him to the world's ridge, and sweeps me off like rubbish?

Sir, we lose time. The troops were mounted all. Then give the word to march. I long to leave this prison of a town, to join thy legions, and, in open field once more to show my face. Lead my deliverer. Enter Alexis. Great Emperor, in mighty arms, reowned above mankind,

but in soft pity to the oppressed a god, this message sends the mournful Cleopatra to her departing lord. Smooth sycophant! A thousand whises and ten thousand prayers millions of blessings wager to the wars, millions of sighs and tears he sent 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 wearied you already. Vantidious aside.

False crocodile! And yet, she begs not now, you would not leave her, that were a wish too mighty for her too presuming for her low fortune and your ebb in love, that were a wist for her more prosperous days, her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness. Anthony aside, Well, I must man it out. What would the queen?

First, to these noble warriors who attend your daring courage in the chase of fame, too daring and too dangers for her quiet, She humbly recommends all she holds dear, all her own cares and fears, the care of you. Yes, witness actium. Let him speak ventidious. You, when this mudsless valor bears him forward, with ardor too heroic on his foes, fall down as he would do before his feet, lie in his way and stop the paths of death. Tell him this God is not invulnerable. That absolutely, and Cleopatra bleeds in him, and that you may remember her petition, she begs you

where the stryphles as a pawn, which at your west returns he will redeem. Gives jewels to the commanders. With all the wealth of Egypt, this to the great Vendaitus she presents, whom she can never count her enemy because he loves her lord. Tell her I'll not, I'm not ashamed of honest poverty. not all the diamonds of the east can bribe ventidious from his faith i hope to see these and the rest of all her sparkling store where they shall more deservingly be placed and who must wear them then the wronged octavia you might have spared that word and he that bribe but have i no remembrance yes a dear one your slave the queen My mistress.

Then your mistress, your mistress would, she says, 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. Me, bind your arm. Presenting a bracelet. Now, my best lord, in honor's name, I ask you, for manhood's sake and for your own dear safety. touch not these poisoned gifts infected by the sender touch them not myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them and more than aconite has dipped the silk nay now you grow too cynical ventidious a lady's favours may be worn with honour what to refuse a bracelet oh my soul when i lie pensive in my tent alone twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights to tell these pretty beaies upon my arm to count for everyone a soft embrace a melting kiss at such and such a time and now and then the fury of her love when and what harms in this

known known my lord but what's to her that's now despised forever antony going to tie it we soldiers are so awkward help me tie it in faith my lord we courteers too are awkward in these affairs So are all men indeed. Even I, who am I not one? But shall I speak? Yes, freely. Then, my lord, fair hands alone are feet to tie it. See who send it can.

Hell, death! This eunuch panda ruins you. You will not see her. Alexis whispers an attendant, who goes out? But to take my leave. Then I have washed any... Ethiopia. You're undone. You're in the toils. You're taken. You're destroyed. Her eyes do Caesar's work. You fear too soon. I'm constant to myself. I know my strength. And yet she shall not think me Barbara's

neither, born in the depths of Africa. I am a Roman, bred in the rules of soft humanity. A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell. You do not know how weak you. you are to her how much an infant. You are not proof against a smile or glass. A sigh will quite disarm you. See, she comes.

Now you shall find your error. Gods, I thank you. I form the danger greater than it was. And now tis near, tis lessened. Mark the end yet. Enter Cleopatra, Carmian and Iris. Well, madam,

we are met. Is this a meeting? Then we must part? We must. Who says we must? Our own hard fates. We make those fates ourselves. Yes, we have made them. We have loved each other into our mutual ruin.

The gods have seen my joys with envious eyes. I have no friends in heaven, and all the world, as to where the business of mankind to part us, is armed against my love. Even you yourself join with the rest. You, you are armed against me. I will be justified in all I do to late posterity, and therefore hear me.

If I mix the lie with any truth, reproach me freely with it, else favour me with silence. You command me, and I am dumb. I like this well. He shows authority. That I derive my ruin from you alone. Oh heavens, I!

"'Ruin you!' "'You promised me your silence, "'and you break it ere I have scarce begun.' "'Well, I obey you.' "'When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt. "'Eer Caesar saw your eyes. "'You gave me love, and were too young to know it. "'That I settled your father in his throne,

"'was for your sake. "'I left the acknowledgement for time to ripen. "'Cesar stepped in, and with a greedy hand, "'plucked the green fruit, ere the first. blush of red, yet cleaving to the bow. He was my lord, and was beside too great for me to rival. But I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you. When after I beheld you in Cilicia, an enemy to Rome, I pardoned you.

I cleared myself. Again you break your promise. I loved you still, and took your weak excuses, took you into my bosom, stained by Caesar. and not half mine. I went to Egypt with you, and hid me from the business of the world, shut out inquiring nations from my sight, to give whole years to you. Vantidious aside. Yes, to your shame be spoken. How I loved. Witness your days and nights and all your hours that danced away with down upon your feet, as all your business were to count my passion. One day passed by

And nothing saw but love Another came And still twas only love The sons were wearied out with looking on And I untired with loving I saw you every day And all the day And every day was still

But as the first So eager was I still to see you more It is all too true Fulvia My wife grew jealous As she indeed had reason raised a war in Italy to call me back. But yet you went not.

While within your arms I lay. The world fell mouldering from my hands each hour and left me scarce a grasp. I thank your love for it. Well pushed. That last was home. Yet, may I speak? If I have urged a force of, yes, else not.

Your silence says I have not. "'Fulvia died, pardon your gods with my unkindness, died. "'To set the world at peace, I took Octavia, "'this Caesar's sister and her pride of youth, "'and flower of beauty, did I wed that lady, "'whom blushing I must praise, because I left her. "'You called, 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 hindered it Yet when I fought at sea Forsook me fighting and O stain to honour O lasting shame I knew not that I fled but fled to follow you

What haste she made to hoist her purple sails And to appear magnificent in flight Drew half-hour strength away All this you cost And would you multiply more ruins on me This honest man my best, my only friend, has gathered up the shipwreck of my fortunes. Twelve legions I have left, my last recruits.

And you have watched the news, and bring your eyes to see them too. If you have ought to answer, now speak. You have free leave. Alexis aside. She stands confounded. Despair is in her eyes. Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his passage. prepare a tear and bid it for his legions.

It is like they shall be sold. How shall I plead my cause when you, my judge, have already condemned me? Shall I bring the love you bore me for my advocate? That now is turned against me, that destroys me. For love, once passed, is at the best forgotten, but oftener sows to hate. T'will please my lord to ruin me, and therefore, I'll be guilty. But could I once have thought it would have pleased 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 deserved this usage. Was it like you to give it? Oh, you wrong me. To think I sought this parting or desired to accuse you more than what will clear

myself justify this breach. Thus lo, I thank you, and since my innocence will not offend, I shall not blush to own it. After this I think she'll blush at nothing. You seem grieved, and therein you are kind, that Caesar first enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better. I grieve for that, my lord, much more than you, for, had I first been yours, it would have saved my second choice. I never had been his, and ne'er had been but yours. But Caesar first, you say, possessed my love? Not so, my lord. He first possessed my person, you my love.

Caesar loved me, but I loved Antony. If I endured him after, t'was because I judged it due to the first name of men, and half constrained, I gave as to a tyrant what he would take by force. Oh, siren! Siren! Yet granted that all the love she boasts were true, has she not ruined you? I still urge that, the fatal consequence. The consequence indeed, for I dare challenge him, my greatest foe, to say it was designed. Tis true, I loved you, and kept you far from an uneasy wife.

Such Fulvia was. Yes, but he'll say, you left Octavia for me. and can you blame me to receive that love which quitted such dessert for worthless me? How often have I wished some other Caesar, great as the first and as the second young, would court my love to be refused for you? Words, words! But actium, sir, remember actium! Even there, I dare his malice. True, I counseled to fight at sea, but I betrayed you not.

I fled, but not to the enemy. T'was fear. Would I had been a man not to have feared? For none would then have envied me your friendship, who envy me your love. We are both unhappy. If nothing else yet our ill fortune passes. Speak, would you have me perish by my stay?

If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go. If as a lover, stay. If you must perish. is a hard word, but stay. See now the effects of her so boasted love. She strives to drag you down to ruin with her. But could she escape without you, or how soon would she let go her hold, and haste to shore, and never look behind? Then, judge my love by this. Giving Anthony a writing. Could I have born a life or death, a half, Happiness or woe from yours divided, this had given me means.

By Hercules the writing of Octavius. I know it well. Tis that prescribing hand, young as it was, that led the way to mine, and left me but the second place in murder. See, see, Vintidious, here he offers Egypt, and joins all Syria to it as a present, so in requital she forsake my fortunes and join her arms with his. And yet, you leave me.

You leave me, Anthony, and yet I love you. Indeed I do. I have refused a kingdom. That is a trifle, for I could part with life, with anything, but only you. Oh, let me but die with you. Is that a hard request? Next living with you, tis all that heaven can give. Alexis aside.

He melts. We conquer. No, you shall go. Your interest calls you hence. Yes, your dear interest pulls too strong For these weak arms 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 bosom. And, when your march begins, Let one run after, Breathless, almost for joy and cry, She's dead. The soldiers shout.

You then, perhaps. may sigh and muster all your Roman gravity, Ventidious chides, and straight your brow clears up, As I had never been. God's, jeez too much, too much for man to bear. What is it for me then, a weak, forsaken woman and a lover? Here let me breathe my last. Envy me not this minute in your arms.

I'll die a pace as fast as air I can, and end your trouble. Die. Ratha, let me perish. Looser nature leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven, and fall the skies to crush the netherworld. My eyes, my soul, my all,

embraces her. And what's this toy, in balance with your fortune, honour, fame? What is ventidious? It had weighs them all. Why? We have more than conquered Caesar now. My queen's not only innocent, but loves me. This, this is she who drags me down to ruin. But could she escape without me? With what haste would she let slip her hold and make to shore and never look behind? Down on thy knees, blaspheme as thou art, and ask forgiveness of wronged innocence. I'll rather die than take it. Will you go? Go, with her, go from all that's excellent, faith, honour, virtue, all good things forbid,

that I should go from her, who sets my love above the price of kingdoms. Give ye gods, give to your boy, your Caesar, this rattle of a globe to play with all, this Gugar world, and put him cheaply off, and not be pleased with less than Cleopatra. She's wholly yours, my heart's so full of joy, that I shall do some wild extravagance of love in public, and the foolish world, which knows not tenderness, will think me mad. Oh, women, women, women, all the gods have not such power of doing good to man as you, of doing harm. Exit.

Our men are armed. Unbar the gate that looks to Caesar's camp. I would revenge the treachery he meant me, and long security makes conquest easy. I am eager to return before I go, for all the pleasures I have known beat thick on my remembrance. How I long for night, that both the sweets of mutual love may try, and triumph once o'er as Caesar, ere we die. End of Act 2. Act 3 of All for Love, All the World Well Lost. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain.

or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. All for Love or the World Well Lost by John Dryden. Act 3. At one door enter Cleopatra, Carmean, Iris and Alexis, a train of Egyptians. At the other, Antony and Romans. The entrance on both sides is prepared by music. The trumpet's first sounding on Anthony's part, then answered by Tim. cymbrials, etc. on Cleopatra's. Carmean and Iris hold a laurel wreath betwixt them, a dance of Egyptians. After the ceremony, Cleopatra crowns Antony.

I thought how those white arms would fold me in and strain me close and melt me into love. So please, without sweet image, I sprung forwards and added all my strengths to every blow. Come to me, come my soldier to my arms, You've been away too long from my embraces, But when I have you fast and all my own, With broken murmurs and with amorous sighs, I'll say you were unkind and punish you, And mark you red with many an eager kiss.

My brighter Venus! O my greater Mars! Thou joins us well, my love. Suppose we come from the Fleggarian plains, where gasping giants lay, cleft by my sword, and mountaintops paired off each other blow to bury those I slew.

Receive me, goddess. Let seize the spread his subtle nets, like Vulcan in thy embraces I would be beheld by heaven 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 gods. There's no satiety of love in thee. Enjoyed thou still art new. Perpetual spring is in thy arms. The ripened fruit but falls. And blossoms rise to fill its empty place, And I grow rich by giving. Enter Ventidius and stands apart.

Oh, now the dangers past, your general comes. He joins not in your joys, nor minds your triumphs, but with contracted brows, looks frowning on, ascending your success. Now on my soul he loves me, truly loves me. He never flattered me in any vice, but awes me with his virtue. Even this minute, me thinks he has the right of chiding me. Lead to the temple. I'll avoid his presence. It checks too strong upon me.

Exaunt the rest. As Antony is going, Ventidius pulls him by the robe. Emperor? Antony, looking back. Tis the old argument. I prithee spare me. But this one hearing, Emperor. Let go my robe, or by my father, Hercules.

By Hercules' father, that's yet greater, I bring you somewhat you would wish to know. Though see as we are observed, attend me here and I return. Exit. I am waning in his favour. Yet I love him. I love this man who runs. to meet his ruin, and sure the gods like me are fond of him. His virtues lie so mingled with his crimes, as would confound their choice to punish one and not reward the other.

We can conquer, you see, without your aid. We have dislodged their troops. They look on us at distance, and like curves escaped from the lion's paws, they bay far off and lick their wounds and faintly threatened more. Five thousand Romans with their faces upward lie breathless on the plain. "'Tis well. And he, who lost them,

could have spared ten thousand more. Yet if, by this advantage, you could gain an easier peace whilst Caesar doubts the chance of arms.' Oh, think not aunt ventidious. The boy pursues my ruin. He'll no peace. His malice is considerable in advantage.

oh he's the coolest murderer so stonch she kills and keeps his temper have you no friend in all his army who has power to move him making us or a gripper might do much they're both too deep in caesar's interests we'll work it out by dint of sword or perish fain i would find some other thank thy love some four or five such victories as this will save thy further pains expect no more caesar is on his guard i know sir you have conquered against odds but still you draw supplies from one poor town and of egyptians he has all the world and at his beck nations come pouring in to fill the gaps you make pray think again why dost thou drive me from myself to search for foreign aids to hunt my memory and range all over a waste and barren place to find a friend the wretch should have no friends yet i had one the bravest youth of rome whom caesar loves beyond the love of women he could resolve his mind as fired as wax from that hard rugged image melt him down and mulled him in what softer for me pleased him would i see that man of all the world just such a one we want he loved me too i was his soul he lived not but in me we were so close within each other's breasts the rivets were so close within each other's breasts the rivets were were not found that joined us first. Let us not reach us yet. We were so mixed as meeting streams both to ourselves were lost. We were one mass. We could not give or take, but from the same.

For he was I, I, he. Ventidius aside. He moves as I would wish him. After this, I need not tell his name. T'was Dolabella. He's now in Caesar's camp. no matter where since he is no longer mine he took unkindly that i forbade him cleopatra's sight because i feared he loved her he confessed he had a warmth which for my sake he stifled for to be impossible that two so one should not have loved the same when he departed he took no leave and that confirmed my thoughts it argues that he loved you more than her else he had stayed but he perceived you jealous and would not grieve his friend. I know he loves you. I should have seen him then, ere now. Perhaps he has thus long been laboring for your peace. Would he were here?

Would you believe he loved you? I read your answer in your eyes. You would! Not to conceal it longer. He has sent a messenger from Caesar's camp with letters. Let him appear. I'll bring him instantly. Exit Ventidious and reenters immediately with Dolabella. Anthony runs to embrace him. Tis himself! Himself, my holy friendship! Are there returned at last,

my better half? Come, give me all myself. Let me not live if the young bridegroom, longing for his knight was ever half so fond. I must be silent, for my soul is busy about a nobler work. She's new come home like a long absent man and wanders o'er each room, a stranger to her. A stranger to her. own to look if all be safe. Thou hast what's left of me, for I am now so sunk from what I was, thou find's me at my lowest watermark. The rivers that ran in and raised my fortunes are all dried up, or take another course. What I have left is from my native spring. I've still a heart that swells and scorn of fate, and lifts me to my banks. Still you are the lord of all the world to me. Why, then I get him so, for thou art all.

If I had any joy when thou wert absent, I grudged to myself, Me thought I robbed thee of thy part. But, oh, my dear de Bella, thou hast beheld me other than I am? Hast thou not seen my morning chambers filled with sceptred 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 yard, stood silent in my presence, watched my eyes, and, at my least command, all started out like races to the go. Slaves to your fortune. Fortune is Caesar's now, and what am I?

What you have made yourself. I will not flatter. Is this friendly done? 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? Take heed, young man, how thou upbraithed my love. The queen has eyes, and thou too hast a soul. Canst thou remember, when swelled with hatred, thou behelts to first as accessory to thy brother's death. Spare my remembrance. T'was a guilty day, and still the blush hangs here. To clear herself, for sending him no aid, she came from Egypt.

her galley down the silver Sidness Road, the tackling silk, the streamers weighed with gold, the gentle winds were lodged in purple sails, her nymphs like nereids round her couch were placed, where she, another seaborn Venus, lay. No more. I would not hear it. Oh, you must! She lay, and lent her cheek upon her hand, and cast a look so languishingly sweet, as if, secure of all beholder's hearts, neglecting she could take them. Boys, like cupids, stood fanning with their painted wings, the winds that played about her face.

But if she smiled, a darting glory seemed to blaze abroad, that men's desiring eyes were never wearied, but hung upon the object. To soft flutes, the silver oars kept time, and while they played, their hearing gave new pleasure to the sight. and both the thought. To us heaven or somewhat more, for she so charmed all hearts, that gazing crowds stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath to give their welcome voice. Then, dolebella, where was then thy soul?

Was not thy fury quite disarmed with wonder? Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes and whispered my ear? Oh, tell her not that I accused her with my brother's death? and should my weakness be a plea for yours mine was an age when love might be excused when kindly warmth and when my springing youth made it a debt to nature yours speak boldly yours he would say in your declining age when no more heat was left but what you forced when all the sap was needful for the trunk when it went down then you constrained the course and robbed from nature to supply desire in you i would not use so harsh a word tis but plain dotage ha ha twas urge to home but yet the lost was private that i made twas but myself i lost i lost no legions i had no world to lose no people's love this from a friend yes antony 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 caesar i excuse you

o ye gods have i then lived to be excused to caesar as to your equal well he is but my equal while i wear this he never shall be more i bring conditions from him are they noble methinks thou shouldst not bring them else yet he is full of deep dissembling knows no honour divided from his interest fate mistook him for nature meant him for usurer he is fit indeed to buy not conquer kingdoms Then granting this, what power was theirs, who wrought so hard a temper to honourable terms? I was my Dolabella of some god. Nor I, nor yet, Messina's nor Agrippa. They were your enemies, and I, a friend, too weak alone, yet twas a Roman's deed. It was like a Roman done. Show me that man who has preserved my life, my love, my honour.

Let me but see his face. That task is mine. and heaven thou knowest how pleasing. Exit van Tidius. You'll remember to whom you stand obliged? When I forget it, be thou unkind, and that's my greatest curse. My queen shall thank him too.

I fear she will not. But she shall do it. The queen, my dolebella, has there not steal some grudgings of thy fever? I would not see her lost. When I forsake her, leave me my better stature. for she has truth beyond her beauty. Caesar tempted her at no less price than kingdoms to betray me.

But she resisted all. Yet thou chidedst me for loving her too well. Could I do so? Yes, there's my reason. Re-enter Ventidius with Octavia, leading Antony's two little daughters. Anthony, starting back, Where?

Octavia there! what is she poison 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 there yours for shame my lord if not for love receive them with kinder eyes if you confess a man meet them embrace them bid them welcome to you your arms should open even without your knowledge to clasp them in your feet should open even without your knowledge to clasp them in your feet should turn to wings to bear you to them, and your eyes dart out, and aim a kiss ere you could reach the lips. I stood amazed to think how they came hither. I sent for them. I brought them in unknown to Cleopatra's guards.

Yet, are you cold? Thus long I have attended for my welcome, which, as a stranger, sure I might expect. Who am I? Caesar's sister. That's unkind. had i been nothing more than caesar's sister no i had still remained in caesar's camp but your octavia your much injured wife though banished from your bed driven from your house in spite of caesar'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 ownness and prompt 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 own, to show my duty first, to ask, nay, beg your kindness. Your hand, my lord, tis mine, and I will

have it. Taking his hand. Do, take it, thou deservest it. On my soul, and so she does, she's neither too submissive, nor yet too haughty, but so just a mean shows, as it ought, a wife and Roman too. I fear, Octavia, you have begged my life. Begged it, my lord? Yes, begged it, my ambassadress. Poorly and basely begged it of your brother. Poorly and basely I could never beg, nor could my brother grant.

Shall I, who to my kneeling slave could say, rise up and be a king? Shall I fall down and cry? Forgive me, Caesar. 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. You shall not need it. I will not need it. Come, you've all betrayed 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 My heart 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 this mine It never shall be said Octavia's husband was her brother's slave

Sir, you are free Free even from her you loathe for though 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 arms, nor beg what I deserve. I'll tell my brother we are reconciled.

He shall draw back his troops, and you shall march to rule the east. I may be dropped at Athens, no matter where. I never will complain, but only keep the barren name of wife, and rid you of the doth. trouble. Was ever such a strife of sullen honour?

Both scorn to be obliged. Oh, she has touched him in the tenderest part. See how he reddens with despite and shame to be outdone in generosity. See how he winks, how he dries up a tear that fain would fall. Octavia, I've heard you and must praise the greatness of your soul. but cannot yield to what you have proposed, for I can never be conquered but by love, and you do all for duty.

You would free me, and would be dropped at Athens. What's not so? It was, my lord. Then I must be obliged to one who loves me not, who to herself may call me thankless and ungrateful man. I'll not endure it, no. Vantidious aside.

Glad it pinches there. Would you triumph over poor Octavia's virtue? That pride was all I had to bear me up, that you might think you owed me for your life, and owed it to my duty, not my love. I have been injured, and my haughty soul could brook but ill the man who slights my bed. Therefore you love me not.

Therefore, my lord, I should not love you. Therefore you would leave me. and therefore i should leave you if i could her soul's too great after such injuries to say she loves and yet she lets you see it her modesty and silence plead her cause oh d'a bennan which way shall i turn i find a secret yielding in my soul but cleopatra who would die with me must she be left pity pleads for octavia but does it not plead more for cleopatra justice and pity both plead for octavia for cleopatra neither one would be ruined with you but she first had ruined you the other you have ruined and yet she would preserve you in everything their merits are unequal oh my distracted so sweet heaven 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 and pull him to yourselves from that bad woman. You Agrippina, hang upon his arms, and you, Antonia, clasp about his waist. If he will shake you off, if he will dash you against the pavement, you must bury, children, for you are mine, and I was born to suffer. Here the children go to him, etc. Was ever sight so moving? Emperor Friend

Husband I am vanquished Take me Octavia Take me children Share me all Embracing them I've been a thriftless debt to your lance And run up much in riot from your stock

But all shall be amended O blessed hour Oh happy change My joy stops at my tongue but it is found two channels here for one and bubbles out above. Anthony to Octavia. This is thy triumph. Lead me with our wilt, even to their brother's camp.

All there are yours. Enter Alexis hastily. The queen, my mistress, sir, and yours. It is passed. Octavia, you shall stay this night. Tomorrow, Caesar and we, are one. Exit leading Octavia. Dolabella and the children follow.

There's news for you. Run, my officious eunuch, be sure to be the first. Haste forward. Haste, my dear eunuch, haste. Exit. This downright fighting fool, this thick-scald hero, this blunt and thinking instrument of death, with plain dull virtue has outgone my soul. wit. Pleasure forsook my earliest infancy. The luxury of others robbed my cradle, and ravish

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 followed my advice, then he had been betrayed, who now forsakes. She dies. for love, but she has known it joys. God's, is this just that I, who know no joys, must die because she loves? Enter Cleopatra, Carmian, Iris, and Train. Oh, madam, I have seen what blasts my eyes.

Octavia's here. Peace with that raven's note. I know it too, and now I'm in the pangs of death. You are no more a queen. Egypt is lost. What tellest thou me of Egypt? My life, my soul is lost. Octavia has him. Oh, fatal name to Cleopatra's love. My kisses, my embraces, now are hers, while I... But thou hast seen my rival. Speak. Does she deserve this blessing? Is she fair, bright as a goddess? and is all perfection confined to her?

It is. Poor I was made of that coarse matter, which, when she was finished, the gods threw by for rubbish. Sees indeed a very miracle. Death to my hopes. A miracle. Alexis, bowing.

A miracle. I mean of goodness, for in beauty, madam, you make all wonder cease. I was too rash. Take this in part of recompense. But oh... Giving a ring. I fear thou flatterest me. She comes. She's here.

Fly, madam. Caesar's sister. Were she the sister of the thunderer Jove, and bore her brother's lightning in her eyes, thus would I face my rival? Meets Octavia with Ventidius. Octavia bears up to her. their trains come up on either side. I need not ask if you are Cleopatra, your haughty carriage. Shows I am a queen, nor need I ask you who you are.

A Roman, a name that makes and can unmake a queen. Your lord, the man who serves me, is a Roman. He was a Roman, till he lost that name to be a slave in Egypt. But I come to free him then. Peace, peace, my lovers, Juno. When he grew weary of that household clog, he chose my easier bonds. I wonder not your bonds are easy. You have long been practised in that lascivious art.

He is not the first for whom you spread your snares. Let Caesar witness. I loved not Caesar. T'was but gratitude I paid his love. The worst your malice can is but to say the great of mankind has been my slave. The next, but far above him in my esteem, is he whom law calls yours, but whom his love made mine. Octavia, coming up close to her. I would view nearer that face which has so long usurped my right, to find the inevitable charms

that catch mankind so sure that ruined my dear Lord. Oh, you do well to search, for had you known but half these charms, you had not lost his heart. Far be their knowledge from a Roman lady, far from a modest wife. Shame of our sex, dost thou not blush to own those black endearments that make sin pleasing? You may blush who want them. If bounteous nature, if indulgent heaven have given me charms to please the bravest man, should I not thank them? Should I be ashamed and not proud? I am, that he has loved me, and, when I love not him, heaven change this face for one like that.

Thou loves him not so well. I love him better, and deserve him more. You do not, cannot, you have been his ruin. Who made him cheap at Rome, but Cleopatra? who made him scorned abroad but cleopatra at actium who betrayed him cleopatra who made his children orphans and poor me a wretched widow only cleopatra yet she who loves him best is cleopatra if you have suffered i have suffered more you bear the specious title of a wife to gild your cause and draw the pitying world to favor it. The world condemns poor me, for I have lost my honor, lost my fame, and stained the glory of my royal house, and all to bear the branded name of mistress. There once but life, and that too I would lose for him I love. Be it so, then, take thy wish. Exit with her train. And tis my wish. Now he is lost, for whom alone

I lived. My sight grows dim, and every object dances and swims before me in the maze of death. My spirits, while they were opposed, kept up. They could not sink beneath a rival scorn. But now she's gone. They faint. Mine have had leisure to recollect their strength and furnace counsel, to ruin her. Who else must ruin you? Vain promisor. Lead me, my Carmian. Nay, your hand too, Iris.

My grief has weight enough to sink you both. Conduct me to some solitary chamber, and draw the curtains round. Then leave me to myself, to take alone my fill of grief. There, I till death, will his unkindness weep as harmless infants moan themselves asleep.

End of Act 3. Act 4 of All for Love or the World Well Lost. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. All for Love or the World Well Lost by John Dryden. Act 4. Enter Anthony and Dolabella. Why would you shift it from yourself on?

me. Can you not tell her? You must part. I cannot. I could put out an eye and bid it go, and Tothera should not weep. Oh, D'Urba, how many deaths are in this word depart? I did not trust my tongue to tell her so. One look of hers would thorn me into tears, and I should melt till I were lost again. Then let Vintidious, he's rough by nature. Oh, he'll speak too harshly. He'll kill her with the news. Thou, only thou. Nature has cast me in so soft a mould that, but to hear a story

feigned for pleasure, of some sad lover's 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. Therefore, therefore thou only, thou art fit, think thyself

me, and when thou speak'st, but let it first belong, take off the edge from every sharper sound, and let our parting be as gently made as other loves begin. Will thou do this? What you have said so sinks into my soul, that if I must speak, I shall speak just so. I leave you then to your sad task.

Farewell, I sent a word to meet you. Goes to the door and comes back. I forgot. Let her be told, I'll make a peace with mine. Her crown and dignity shall be preserved, if I have power with Caesar. Oh, be sure to think on that. Fear not. I will remember. Anthony goes again to the door and comes back.

And tell her too how much I was constrained. I did not this, but with extremist force. Desire not to hate my memory, for I still cherish hers. Insist on that. Trust me, I'll not forget it. Then that's all. Goes out and returns again. Will thou forgive my fondness this once more?

Tell her, though 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 returned I feel my soul more tender, and my next command would be to better stay and ruin both. Exit. Men are but children of a larger growth.

Our appetites are apt to change as theirs, and full as craving too, and full as vain. and yet the soul shut up in her dark room, viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing. But like a mole in earth, busy and blind, works all her folly up and casts it outward to the world's open view. Thus I discovered, and blamed the love of ruin Antony, yet wish that I were he to be so ruined. Enter Ventidius above. Alone and talking to himself, concerned too, Perhaps my guess is right. He loved her once and may pursue it still.

Oh, friendship, friendship, ill canst thou answer this, and reason worse. Unfaithful in the attempt, hopeless to win, and if I win, undone, mere madness all. And yet the occasions fair, what injury to him to wear the robe which he throws by? None, none at all. This happens as I wish. to ruin her yet more with Anthony. Enter Cleopatra talking with Alexis, Carmian Iris on the other side. She comes, what charms have sorrow on that face.

Sorrow seems pleased 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 moment's day. If she should love him, too, A eunuch there? That porpoise bodes ill weather. Draw near a sweet devil that I may hear. Dolabella goes over to Carmian and Iris,

Seems to talk with them. Believe me, try to make him jealous. Jealousy is like a polished glass, held to the lips when life's in doubt. If there be breath, twill cuts the damp and show it. i grant you jealousy is a proof of love but tis a weak and unavailing medicine it puts out the disease and makes it show but has no power to cure tis your last remedy and strongest too and then this dolabella who's so fit to practise on he's handsome valiant young and looks as he were laid for nature's bait to cut weak woman's eyes his stance already more than half suspected of love love in you the least kind word or glance you give this youth will kindle him with love then like a burning vessel set a drip you'll send him down a mane before the wing to fire the heart of jealous antony

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 has thrust me out to the wide world unfurnished of falsehood to be happy. Force yourself. The event will be. Your lover will return.

Doubly desires to possess the good which one he feared to lose. I must attempt it. But oh, with what regret. Exit Alexis. Cleopatra comes up to Dolabella. So now the scene draws near They're in my reach

Cleopatra to Dolabella Discoursing with my women Might not I share in your entertainment You have been the subject of it, madam How and how? Such praises of your beauty Mere poetry Your Roman wits, your Gullus and Tbilis

Have taught you this from Cythyrus and Delia Those Roman wits have never been in Egypt. Cytherus and Delia else had been unsung. I, who have seen, had I been born a poet, should choose a nobler name. You flatter me, but tis your nation's vice. All of your country are flatterers, and all false. Your friends like you. I'm sure he sent you not to speak these words.

No, madam, yet he sent me. Well, he sent you? of a less pleasing errand how less pleasing less to yourself or me madam to both for you must mourn and i must grieve to cause it cleopatra aside you carmian and your fellow stand at a distance hold up my spirits aloud well now your mournful matter for i'm prepared perhaps can guess it too i wish you would for tis a thankless office to tell ill news And I, of all your sex, most fear displeasing you. Of all your sex, I soonest could forgive you, if you should. Most delicate advances. Women, women!

Dear, damned, inconstance sex! In the first place, I am to be forsaken. Is not so? I wish I could not answer to that question. Then pass it o'er, because it troubles you. I should have been more grieved another time. Next, I'm to lose my kingdom. Farewell, Egypt.

Yet, is there any more? Madam, I fear, your too deep sense of grief has turned your reason. No, no, I'm not run mad. I can bear fortune, and love may be expelled by other love, as poisons are by poisons. You o'erjoy me, madam, to find your griefs so moderately born. You've heard the worst. All are not false like him.

No, heaven forbid they should. Some men are constant. And constancy deserves reward. That's certain. Deserves it not, but give it leave to hope. I'll swear thou hast my leave. I have enough. But how to manage this?

Well, I'll consider. Exit. I came prepared to tell you heavy news, news, which I thought would fright the blood from your pale cheeks to hear. But you have met it with a cheerfulness that makes my task more easy, and my tongue, which on another's message was employed, would gladly speak its own. Hold, Dola Bella.

First, tell me, were you chosen by my lord, or sought you this employment? He picked me out, as his bosom friend. He charged me with these words. The message then I know was tender, and each accent smooth, to mollify that rugged word, depart. Oh, you mistake. He chose the harshest word. with fiery eyes and contracted brows. He coined his face in the severest stamp, and fury shook his

fabric like an earthquake. He heaved for vent and burst like bellowing Etna, hidden sound scarce human. Hence away forever, let her be gone, the blot of my renown and bane of all my hopes. Let her be driven, as far as men can think from man's commerce. She'll poison to the center. At the time of this speech, Cleopatra seems more and more concerned, till she sinks quite down. Oh, I can bear no more. Help, help, oh wretch, oh, cursed, cursed wretch, what have I done? Help, chafer tempers, eras.

Bend, bend her forward quickly. Heaven be praised, she comes again. Oh, let him not approach me. Why have you brought me back to this loathed being? The abode of falsehood, violated vows, and injured 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! Dola Bella, kneeling. Believe me, tis against myself I speak. that sure desires belief, I injured 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 farewells, how almost vanquished by his love he parted, and leaned to what unwillingly

he left. I, traitor that I was, for love of you, but what can you not do who made me false? I forged that lie, for whose forgiveness kneels this self-accused, self-punished criminal. With how much ease believe we what we wish? Rise, Dolabella. If you have been guilty, I have contributed, and too much love has made me guilty, too. The advance of kindness which I made was feigned, to call back fleeting love by jealousy. But t'would not last. Oh, rather let me lose than so ignobly trifle with his heart.

i find your breast fenced round from human reach transparent as a rock of solid crystal seen through but never pierced 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 Could you not beg an hour's admittance to his private ear? Like one, who wanders through long barren wilds, and yet forenows no hospitable inn is near to suck a hunger, eats his fill before his painful march. So would I feed a while my famished eyes before we part, for I have far to go, if death be far, and never must return. Van Tidious with Octavia behind.

From hence you may discover, oh sweet sweet would you indeed the pretty hand in earnest i will for this reward takes her hand draw it not back tis all i air will beg they turn upon us what quick eyes has guilt seem not to have observed them and go on they enter saw you the emperor ventidious no i sought him but i heard that he was private None with him but Hipparchus, his freedman. Know you his business? Giving him instructions and letters to his brother Caesar. Well, he must be found. Exaunt, Dolabella and Cleopatra.

Most glorious impudence. She looked me, thought, as she would say. Take your old man, Octavia, thank you, I'm better here. Well, but what use make we of this discovery? Let it die. "'I pity, Dola Bella. "'But she's dangerous. "'Her eyes have power beyond Thessalian charms

"'to draw the moon from heaven. "'For eloquence, the sea-green sirens "'taught her voice there flattery, "'and while she speaks, "'night steals upon the day, "'unmarked 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 heaved hands, "'forgeting gravity, they blest, her wanton eyes. Even I who hate her with the malignant joy behold such beauty. And while I curse, desire it. Antony must needs have some remains of passion still, which may ferment into a worse relapse, if now not fully cured. I know this minute with Caesar he's endeavouring her peace. You have prevailed. She walks away.

But for a further purpose, I'll prove how he will relish this discurs. What, make a strumpet's peace? It swells my heart. It must not, shall not be. His guards appear. Let me begin, and you shall second me. Enter Antony. Octavia, I was looking you, my love. What? I will let us ready. I have given my last instructions. Mine, my lord, are written. Ventidious. Drawing him aside. my lord a word in private when saw you dolebella now my lord he parted hence and cleopatra with him speak softly twas by my command he went to bear my last farewell van tidesus aloud it looked indeed like your farewell more softly my farewell what secret meaning have you in those words of my farewell he did it by my order Vantidious, aloud.

Then he obeyed your order. I suppose you bid him do it with all gentleness, all kindness, and all love. How she mourned the poor forsaken creature. She took it as she ought. She bore your parting as she did Caesar's, as she would and others, were a new love to come. Antony, aloud. Thou dost belie her, most basely and maliciously her.

I thought not to displease you. you. I have done. Octavia, coming up. You seem disturbed, my lord. A very trifle. Retire, my love. It was indeed a trifle. He sent... Anthony, angrily. No more. Look how thou disabased me.

Thy life shall answer it. Dentis, no trifle. Ventidious to Octavia. It is less, a very nothing. You too saw it as well as I, and they. therefore tis no secret. She saw it? Yes.

She saw young Dolabella. Young Dolabella? Young. I think him young, and handsome too. And so do others think him. But what of that? He went by your command. Indeed, tis probable, with some kind message.

For she received it graciously. She smiled, and then he grew familiar with her hand, squeezed it and worried it with ravenous kisses. she blushed and sighed and smiled and blushed again at last she took occasion to talk softly and brought her cheek up close and leaned on his at which he whispered kisses back on hers and then she cried aloud that constancy should be rewarded this i saw and heard what woman was it whom you heard and saw so playful with my friend not Not Cleopatra. Even she, my lord. My Cleopatra.

Your Cleopatra. Dola Bella's Cleopatra. Every man's Cleopatra. Thou liest. I do not lie, my lord. Is this so strange? Should mistresses be left and not provide against a time of change? You know, she's not much use to lonely nights?

I think no morent. I notice false and see the plot between Stuart. You needed not have gone this way, Octavia. What harms it you that Cleopatra's just? She's mine or more. I see, and I forgive. Urge it no further love. Are you concerned that she's found false?

I should be, were it so. For though tis past, I were not that the world should tax my former choice, that I loved one of so light note. But I forgive you both. What is my age deserved, that you should think I would abuse your ears with perjury. If heaven be true, she's false. Though heaven and earth should witness it,

I'll not believe her tainted. I'll bring you then a witness from hell to prove her so. Seeing Alexis just entering and starting back. Nay, go not back. For stay you must and shall. What means, my lord? To make you do what most you hate, speak truth. You are of Cleopatra's private counsel, of her bed counsel, her lascivious hours. A conscious of each nightly change she makes, and watch her as Chaldeans do the moon, can tell what signs she passes through, what day. My noble lord. My most illustrious, panda.

No fine-set speech, no cadence, no turned periods, but a plain, homespun truth is what I ask. I did myself, or hear your queen make love to Dolebella. Speak, for I will know by your confession what more passed betwixt them. How near the business draws to your employment. And when the happy hour? Speak truth, Alexis. Whether it offend or please Vintidious, care not. Justify thy injured queen from malice.

Dare his worst. Octavia, aside. See how he gives him courage. how he fears to find her faults and shuts his eyes to truth willing to be misled as far as love may plead for woman's friolty urged by desert and greatness of the lover so far divine octavia may my queen's tant even excuse to you for loving him who is your lord so far from brave venditius may her past actions hope a fair report It is well and truly spoken. Mark Ventidius. To you, most noble emperor,

her strong passion stands not excused, but wholly justified. Her beauty charms alone, without her crown, from ink and marrow drew the distant vows of sighing kings. At her feet were played the Scepters of the earth, exposed on hips,

to choose where she would reign. She thought a Roman only could deserve her, and of all Romans only Anthony, and to be less than wife to you disdained their lawful passion. It is but truth. And yet thou love, and your unmatched desert, have drawn her from her due regard of honor. At last heaven opened her unwilling eyes to sin the wrong she offered fair Octavia, whose holy bed she lowlessly usurped. The sad effects of this imposterous war confirmed those pious thoughts. Vantidious aside. Oh, will you there?

Observe him now, the man begins to mend and talk substantial reason. Fear not, eunuch, the emperor has given thee leave to speak. Else had I never dared to offend his ears, with what the last necessity has urged on my forsaken mistress. yet I must not presume to say her heart is wholly altered. No, dare not for thy life. I charge thee dare not pronounce that fatal word. Octavia, aside.

Must I bear this? Good heaven afford me patience. On, sweet eunuch, my dear half-man, proceed. Yet Dolabella has loved her long, he, next my god, like Lord, deserves her best, and should she meet his passion, rejected as she is, by him she loved. Hence from my sight, for I can bear no more. Let furious drag thee quick to hell. Let all the longer damned have rest. Each torturing hand do thou employ till Cleopatra comes. Then join thou too, and help to torture her. Exit Alexis, thrust out by Antony.

"'Tis not well. Indeed, my lord, this much unkind to me to show this passion, this extreme concernment for an abandoned, faithless prostitute.' Octavia, leave me. I am much disordered. Leave me, I say.

My lord— I bid you leave me. Obey him, madam. Best withdraw a while and see how this will work. Wherein have I offended you, my lord, that I am bid to leave me. leave you. Am I false or infamous? Am I a Cleopatra? Where I is she, base as she is, you would not bid me leave you, but hang upon my neck, take slight excuses, and fawn upon my falsehood.

Tees too much. Too much, Octavia. I am pressed with sorrows too heavy to be born, and you add more. I would retire and recollect what's left of man within to aid me. You would mourn in private for your love who has betrayed you. You did but have returned to me. Your kindness lingered behind with her. I hear, my lord, you make conditions for her, and would include her treaty. Wanderous proofs of love to me.

Are you, my friend, Vintidious? Or are you turned O'Donabella, too, and let this theory loose? Oh, be advised, sweet madam, and retire. 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 urged with long unkindness and disdain take her again whom you prefer to me she stays but to be called poor cozened man let a feigned parting give her back your heart which a faint love first got for injured me though my just sense of wrongs forbid my day, 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 widowed knights. So, take my last farewell,

for I despair to have you whole, and scorn to take you half. Exit. I combat heaven which blasts my best designs. My last attempt must be to win her back. but all I fear in vain. Exit. Why was I framed 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 forced a smile at Cleopatra's falsehood. Octavia had believed it, and it stayed. But I am made a shallow fordage stream, seen to the bottom. All my clearness scorned. and all my faults exposed. Enter Dolabella. See where he comes,

who has profaned the sacred name of friend and worn it into vileness. With how secure a brow and specious form he gilds the secret villain. Sure, that face was meant for honesty, but heaven mismatched it and furnished treason out with nature's pomp to make its work more easy.

Oh, my friend. Well, Dolabella. You performed my message. I did, unwillingly. Unwillingly. Was it so hard for you to bear our parting? You should have wished it. Why?

Because you love me. And she received my message with as true, with as unfailing to sorrow as you brought it. She loves you, even to madness. Oh, I know it. You, Dola Bella, do not better know how much she loves me. And should I forsake this beauty? this all-perfect creature.

I could not, were she mine? And yet you first persuaded me. How come you altered sins? I said at first, I was not fit to go. I could not bear 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 farewell, and see, she comes to claim my word.

Enter Cleopatra. false Dolabella What's false, my lord? Why, Dolabella's false, and Cleopatra's false, both false and faithless. Drone here, you well-joined wickedness, you serpents, whom I have in my kindly bosomwam till I am stung to death.

My lord, have I deserved to be thus used? Can heaven prepare a newer torment? Can it find a curse beyond our separation? Yes, if fate be just, much greater. Heaven should be ingenious in punishing such crimes. The Rolling Stone and gnawing vulture were slight pains, invented when Job was young, and no examples known of mighty ills. But you have ripened sin to such a monstrous growth to oppose the gods to find an equal torture. Too, to such! Oh, there's no further name. Too such! To me! To me who locked my soul within your breasts, had no desires, no joys, no life but you, when half the globe was mine, I gave it you and dowry with my heart. I had no use, no fruit of all but you.

A friend and mistress was what the world could give. O Cleopatra, O Dola Bella, how could you betray this tender heart, which with an infant fondness lay lulled betwixt your bosoms, and there slept, is a cure of injured faith. If she has wronged you, heaven, hell, and you revenge it. If she has wronged me, thou wouldst evade thy part of guilt,

but swear thou loves not her. Not so as I love you. Not so? Swear, swear, I say, thou dost not love her. No more than friendship will allow. No more. Friendship allows thee nothing.

Thou art perjured. And yet thou didst not swear thou lov'st her not, but not so much, no more. Oh, trifling hypocrite, who dares not own to her, thou dost not love, no own to me, thou dost. Vintidius heard it, Octavia saw it. They are enemies. Alexis is not so. He, he confessed it. He who next hell best knew it. He avowed it. To Dolabella. Why do I seek a proof beyond yourself? You, whom I sent to bear my last farewell, returned to pleader stay. What shall I answer?

If to have loved be guilt, then I have sinned. 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 suffer. She is innocent. Ah, what will a woman not do who loves? What means will she refuse to keep that heart where all her joys are placed? T'was I encouraged, twas I, blew up the fire that scorched his soul to make you jealous, and by that regain you.

But all in vain, I could not counterfeit. In spite of all the dams my love broke o'er, and drowned my heart again, fate took the occasion, and thus one minute's feigning has destroyed my whole life's truth. Thin copyrights of falsehood, seen and broke through it first. Forgive your mistress. forgive your friend you have convinced yourselves you plead each other's cause what witness have you that you but meant to raise my jealousy ourselves and heaven guilt witnesses for guilt hence love and friendship you have no longer place in human breasts these two have driven you out avoid my sight i will not kill the man whom i have loved 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 wronged, my justice and revenge will cry so loud within me

that my pity will not be heard for either. Heaven has but our sorrow for our sins, and then delights to pardonering men. Sweet mercy seems its darling attribute, which limits justice, and if there were degrees in infinite, an infinite would rather want perfection than punish to extent. I can forgive a foe,

but not a mistress and a friend. treason is there in its most horrid shape Where trust is greatest And the soul resigned Is stabbed by its own cards I'll hear no more Hence from my sight forever How forever

I cannot go one moment from your sight And must I go forever My joys My only joys are centred 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 are, A helpless banished woman, banished for love of you, banished from you? Aye, 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. I must not hear you.

I have a fool within me takes your part, But honour stops my ears. For pity, hear me. Would you cast off a slave who followed you, who crouched beneath your spurn? He has no pity. See if he gives one tear to my departure, one look, one kind farewell.

Oh, Ironheart, let the gods look down and judge betwixt us if he did ever love. No more. Alexis! A perjured villain. Anthony to Cleopatra. You're Alexis. You're Alexis. You're.

Oh, t'was his plot, his ruinous design, to engage you in my love by jealousy, hear him, confront him with me, let him speak. I have, I have. And if he clears me not— Your creature, one who hangs upon your smiles, what is your eye to say or to unsay, what are you please? I am not to be moved. Then must we part? Farewell, my cruel lord. The appearance is against me, and I go, unjustified, forever from your sight.

How I have loved, you know, how yet I love, my only comfort is. I know myself. I love you more, even how you are unkind, than when you loved me most. So well, so truly, I'll never strive against it, but die pleased to think you once were mine. Good heaven, they weep at parting. must I weep too That cause them innocent I must not weep

And yet I must To think that I must not forgive Live but live wretched It is but just you should Whom made me so Live from each other's sight Let me not hear you meet Sit all the earth

And all the seas Betwixt your sundered loves View nothing common But the sun and skies Now all take several ways and each your own sad fate with mind deplore that you were false and I could trust no more. End of Act 4.

Act 5 of All for Love, or the World Well Lost. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. All for Love or the World Well Lost by John Dryden. Act 5. Enter Cleopatra, Carmian and Iris. Be just to heaven. Such virtue punished thus. We'll make us think that chance rules all above, and shuffles, with a random hand, the lots,

which man is forced to draw. I could tear out these eyes that gained his heart and had not power to keep it. Oh, the curse of doting on, even when I find it dotage. Bear witness gods. You heard him bid me go. You, whom he mocked with imprecating vows of promised 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 choke this love. Enter Alexis. Help! Oh Alexis, help! The queen grows desperate. her soul struggles in her with all the agonies of love and rage and strives to force its passage let me go art thou there traitor oh oh for a little breath to vent my rage give give me way and let me loose upon him

yes i deserve it for my ill-time truth was it for me to prop the ruins of a fallen majesty to place myself beneath the mighty flaw thus to be crushed and pounded into atoms by its overwhelming weight. It is too presuming four subjects to preserve that willful power which courts its own distraction. I would reason more calmly with you. Did you not owe a rule and force my plain, direct and open love into these crooked paths of jealousy? Now what's the event? Octavia is removed. But Cleopatra's banished. Thou, thou villain, hast pushed my boat to open sea To prove at my sad cost if thou can't steer it back.

It cannot be, I'm lost too far, I'm ruined. 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. Suppose some Cypriot seamen 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 other's weight, would he look back and curse him from his pains? The case is yours, but one step more and you have gained the height. sunk, never more to rise. Octavia has gone and allabella banished. Believe me, madam, Anthony is yours. His heart was never lost, but started off to jealousy,

love's last retreat and covert, where it lies hid in siege, watchful in silence, and listening for the sound that calls it back. Some other, any man, this so advanced, may perfect this unfinished work, which I, unhappy only to myself, have left so easy to his hand. Look well there, do it, else... Else what your silence threatens, Antony is mounted up the pharos, whom whose turret his stance or vain or egyptian galleys, engaged with Caesar's fleet, now death or conquest.

If the first happen, fate acquits my promise. If we are come, the conqueror is yours. A distant shout within. Have comfort, madam. Did you mark that shout? Second shout nearer. Hark! They redouble it. It is from the port.

The loudness shows its near. Good news, kind heavens! Osiris make it so. Enter Serapian. Where? Where's the queen? How frightfully the holy coward stares As if not yet recovered of the assault When all his gods and what's more dear to him his offerings were at stake

O horror horror Egypt has been Our latest hour has come The queen of nations from our ancient seat Is sunk forever in the dark abyss Time has unrolled her glories to the last And now closed up the volume Be more plain, say whence thou comest,

Though fate is in thy face, Which from the haggard eyes looks wildly out And threatens, ere thou speakest. I came from Farros, From viewing, spare me and imagine it, Our land's last hope, your navy. Banquished?

No, they fought not. Then they fled. Nor that. I saw, with Anthony, your well-appointed fleet row out. And thrice he waved his hand on high, And thrice with cheerful cries they shouted back. T'was then false fortune, like a fawning strumpet, about to leave the bankrupt prodigal, with a dissembled smile with kiss at parting, and flatter to the last.

The well-timed auras now dipped from every bank, now smoothly run to meet the foe, and soon indeed they met, but not as foes. In few we saw their caps on either side thrown up. The Egyptian galleys received like friends, passed through, and fell back. behind the Roman rear. And now they all come forward and ride within the port. Enough, Sir Repian, I've heard my doom. This needed not, you gods. When I lost Antony, your work was done. Tis but superfluous malice. Where's my lord? How bears he this last blow? His fury cannot be expressed by words. Thrice he had, attempted headlong to have fallen full on his foes, and aimed at Caesar's galley.

Withheld, he raves on you, cries he's betrayed. Should he now find you? Shun him, seek your safety till you can clear your innocence. I'll stay. You must not. Haste you to your monument. Well, I make speed to Caesar. Caesar? No, I have no business with him.

I can work him to spare your life, and let this madman perish. Base, forning wretch, wouldst thou betray him too? Hence from my sight, I will not hear a traitor. Twas thy design brought all this ruin on us. Serapian, thou art honest, counsel me, but haste, each moment's precious. Retire. You must not yet see Anthony. He who began this mischief, tis just he tempt the danger. Let him clear you, and since he offered you his servile tongue to gain a poor precarious life from Caesar, let him expose that fawny eloquence and speak to Anthony.

Oh heavens, I dare not, I meet my certain death. slave thou deservest it not that i fear my lord will i avoid him i know him noble when he banished me and thought me false he scorned to take my life but i'll be justified and then die with him oh pity me and let me follow you to death if thou stir hence speak if thou canst now for thy life which basely thou would save while mine I prize at this, come good Serapian. Exaunt Cleopatra, Serapian, Carmion and Iris. O that I less could fear to lose this being, which, like a snowball in my coward hand, the more tis grasp the faster melts away. Poor reason, what a wretched aid art thou!

For still in spite of thee, these two, Long lovers, Soul embodied dread, their final separation. Let me think, what can I say to save myself from death, no matter what becomes of Cleopatra? Antony Within. Which way? Where? Vantidious Within. This leads to the monument. Ah, me, I hear him, yet I'm unprepared.

My gift of lines gone, and this court damn. which I so oft have raised forsakes me at my need. I dare not stay, yet cannot far go hence. Exit. Enter Antony and Ventidius. O happy Caesar, thou hast men to lead. Think not tis thou hast conquered Antony, but Rome has conquered Egypt.

I am betrayed. Curse on this treacherous train. Their soil and heaven infect them all with baseness, and their young souls come tainted to the world with the first breath they draw. The original villain sure know God created. He was a bastard of the sun, by Nile, eaped into man, with all his mother's mud crusted about his soul. The nation is one universal traitor, and their queen, the very spirit and extract of them all. Is there yet left a possibility of aid from valour, is there one

god unsworn to my destruction, the least unmortaged hope, for if there be, me thinks I cannot fall beneath the fate of such a boy as Caesar, the world's one half is yet in Antony, and from each limb of it that's hewed away, the soul comes back to me.

There yet remained three legions in the town. The last assault lopped 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. They are enough. We'll not divide our stars, but side by side fight emulous, and with malicious

eyes survey each other's axe, so every death thou gist I'll take on me, as a just debt, and pay thee back a soul. Now you shall see, I love you. Not a word of chiding more. By my few hours of life, I am so pleased with this brave Roman fate. that i would not be caesar to outlive you when we put off this flesh and mount together i shall be shown to all the ethereal crowd lo this is he who died with antony who knows but we may peer through all their troops and reach my veterans yet tis worth attempting to o'leap this gulf of fate and leave our wandering destinies behind enter alexus trembling See, see that villain! See Cleopatra stamped upon that face, with all her cunning, all her arts of falsehood. How she looks out through those dissembling eyes,

how he sets his countenance for deceit and promises a lie before he speaks. Let me dispatch him first. Drawing his sword. Oh, spare me, spare me! Hold! He's not worth your killing. On their life? which thou mayst keep, because I scorn to take it, no syllable to justify thy queen. Save thy base-tongate's office.

Sir, she's gone, where she shall never be molested more by love or you. Fled to her dolebella. Die traitor, I revoke my promise. Die! Going to kill him. Oh, hold! She's not fled. She is. My eyes are open to her falsehood. My whole life has been a golden dream of love and friendship. But now I wake. I'm like a merchant, roused from a soft repose to see his vessel sinking and all his wealth cast over. Ungrateful woman who followed me, but has the swallow summer, hatching her young ones in my kindly beams, singing her flat race to my morning wake. But now now, my winter comes. She spreads her wings and seeks the spring of Caesar.

Think not so. Her fortunes have in all things mixed with yours. Had she betrayed her naval force to Rome, how easily might she have gone to Caesar, secure by such a bribe? She sent it first to be more welcome after. Tis too plain, else would she have appeared to clear herself. Too fatally she has, she could not bear to be accused by you, but sat herself within her monument, looked down and sighed. While from her unchanged face, the silent tears dropped, as they have not lived but stole their parting. Some indistinguished words she only murmured. At last she raised her eyes and, with such look as dying Lucrecy cast. my heart forbodes all for the best go on she snots her porniard and ere we would prevent the fatal blow planked it within her breast then turn to me

go bare my lord said she my last farewell and ask him if he yet suspect my faith more she was saying but death rust betwixt she half pronounced your name with her last breath and bear it half within her. Heaven be praised! Then are thou innocent, my poor dear love, and art thou dead? Oh, these two words, their sound should be divided, had so been false and died,

or had so lived and had's been true, but innocence and death, there shows no well above. Then what am I, the murder of this truth, this innocence. Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid as can express my guilt. You've come to this?

The gods have been too gracious, and thus you thank them for it? Antony to Alexis. Why stayest thou here? Is it for thee to spy upon my soul and see its inward morning? Get thee hence, thou art not worthy to behold

what now becomes the Roman emperor to perform. Alexis aside. He loves her still. His grief betrays it. Good. The joy to find since yet alive completes the reconcillement. I've saved myself and her.

But oh, the Romans, fate comes too fast upon my wit, hunts me too hard and meets me at its dabble. He exits. Would you have died a little sooner, though? Before Octavia went, you might have treated. Not will look tame and would not be received. Come, rouse yourself and let's die warm together. I will not fight.

There's no more work for war. The business of my angry hours is done. Caesar is at your gates? Why? Let him enter. He's welcome now. What lethargy has crept into your soul? It is but a scorn of life. and just desire to free myself from bondage.

Do it bravely. I will, but not by fighting. Oh, Ventidious, what should I fight for now? My queen is dead. I was but great for her. My power, my empire, but my merchandise to buy her love, and conquered kings, my factors. Now she's dead.

Let Caesar take the way. world. An empty circle since the Jill's gone, which made it worth my strife. My being's nauseous, for all the bribes of life are gone away. Would you be taken? Yes, I would be taken, but as a Roman aunt, dead, my ventidious, for I'll convey my soul from Caesar's reach, and lay down life myself. Tis time the world should 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 dented inwards let him walk alone upon it i am weary of my part my torches are out and the world stands before me like a black desert at the approach of night i'll lay me down and stray no further on I could be grieved, but that I'll not outlive 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. It is scarce worth giving. I could wish, indeed, we threw it from us with a better grace, that like two lions taken in the toils, we might at last thrust out our pores

and wound the hunters that encloses. I have thought on it. Vintidious, you must live. I must not, sir. Will thou not live to speak some good of me, to stand by my fair fame, and guard the approaches from the ill tongues of man? Who shall guard mine for living after you?

Say, I command it. If we die well, our deaths will speak themselves and need no living witness. Thou hast loved me, and fain I would reward thee. I must die. Kill me, and take the merit of my death to make thee friends with Caesar.

Thank your kindness. You said I loved you, and in recompense you bid me turn a traitor. Did I think you would have used me thus, that I should die with a hard thought of you? Forgive me, Broman. since i have heard of cleopatra's 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 by heaven i will not let it not be to outlive you kill me first and then die thou for tis but just thou serve thy friend before thyself give me your hand we soon shall meet again

now farewell emperor they embrace methinks that words too cold to be my last since death sweeps all distinctions farewell friend that's all i will not make a business of a trifle and yet i cannot look on you and kill you pray turn your face i do strike home Be sure. Home as my sword will reach. He kills himself. Oh, thou mistakest. That wound was not of thine. Give it me back.

That robs me of my death. I do indeed. But think it is the first time I e'er deceived you. If that may plead my pardon. And you, gods, forgive me if you will. for I die perjured Rather than kill my friend Dies

Therwell Ever my leader Even in death My queen and thou have got the start of me And I'm the lag of honour Gone so soon Is death no more He used him carelessly

With a familiar kindness Eir he knocked Ran to the door And took him in his arms as who should say. You're welcome at all hours. A friend need give no warning. Books had spoiled him,

for all the learned are cowards by profession. Tis not worth my further thought. The death, for aught I know, is but to think no more. He is to be satisfied. Falls on his sword. I've missed my heart. Oh, unperforming hand. Thou never couldst have earth.

in a worse time. My fortune jays me to the last, and death, like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait for my admittance. Trumpling within. Some, perhaps, from Caesar. If he should find me living, and suspect that I played booty with my life, I amend my work, ere they can reach me. Rises upon his knees. Enter Cleopatra, Carmian and Iris Where is my lord? Where is he?

There he lies, and dead of Antidius by him. My tears were prophets, I am come too late. Oh, that accursed Alexis! Rons to him. Are thou living? Or am I dead before I knew, And thou the first kind ghost that meets me? Help me seat him. Send quickly. Send for help.

They place him in a chair. I am answered. We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra. I'll make the most I can of life to stay a moment more with thee. How is it with you? Tis is with a man removing in a hurry. All packed up, but one dear jewel that his haste for God. And he for that returns upon the spur.

So I come back for thee. Too long, ye heavens, you have been cruel to me. Now show your mended faith and give me back his fleeting life. It will not be my love. I keep my soul by force. Say but thou art not false. Tis now too late to say I'm true. I'll prove it and die with you.

unknown to me Alexis feigned my death, which, when I knew, I hasted to prevent this fatal consequence. My fleet betrayed both you and me. And Dolabella. Scarce esteemed before he loved, but hated now. Enough. My life's not long enough for more.

Those sayest thou wilt come after. I believe thee, for I can now believe you. whate'er thou say'st, that we may part more kindly. I will come, doubt not my life, I'll come and quickly too. Caesar shall triumph over no part of thee. But grieve not, while thou stayest my last disastrous times. Think we have had a clear and glorious day,

and heaven did kindly to delay the storm, just till our close of evening. ten years love not a moment lost but all improved to the utmost joys what ages have we lived and now to die each other's and so dying while hand in hand we walk in growth below whole troops of lover's ghosts shall flock about us and all that train be ours your words are like the notes of dying swans to sweet to last. Were there so many hours for your unkindness and not one for love? No. Not a minute. This one kiss. More worth than all I leave to Caesar. He dies. Oh, tell me so again, and take ten thousand kisses for that word. My lord, my lord, speak, if you

yet have been. Sign to me if you cannot speak. Or cast one look. Do anything that shows you live. He's gone too far to hear you, and this you see a lump of senseless clay, the leavings of a soul. Remember, madam, he charged you not to grieve. And I'll obey him. I have not loved a Roman, not to know what should become his wife. His wife, my carmion, for tis to that high title I aspire, and now I'll not die less. Let dull Octavia survive to mourn him dead. My noble of fate shall knit our spousals with a tie too strong for Roman laws to break. Will you then die? Why shouldst thou make that question? Caesar is merciful. Let him be so, to those that want his mercy. My poor.

poor lord made no such covenant with him, to spare me when he was dead. Yield me to Caesar's pride? What? To be led in triumph through the streets? A spectacle to base plebeian eyes? While some dejected friend of Antony's, close in a corner, shakes his head, and mutters a secret curse on her who ruined him? I'll none of that. Whatever you resolve, or fuller, even to death. i only feared for you but more should fear to live without you why now tis as it should be quick my friends despatch ere this the towns in caesar's hands my lord looks down concerned and fears my stay lest i should be surprised keep him not waiting for his love too long you come in bring my crown and richest jewels with them the wreath of victory i made vain augury for him who now lies dead You, Iris, bring the cure of all our ills. The Aspics, madam?

Must I bid you twice? Exit Carmian and Iris. Tis sweet to die when they would force life on me, To rush into the dark abode of death and seize him first. If he be like my love, he is not frightful, sure. We're now alone, in secrecy and silence. and is this not like lovers? I may kiss these pale, cold lips.

Octavia does not see me. And, oh, tis better far to have him thus than see him in her arms. Oh, welcome, welcome. Enter Carmion and Iris. What must be done? Short ceremony, friends, but yet it must be decent. First, this laurel shall crown my hero's head. he fell not basely nor left his shield behind him only thou couldst triumph o thyself and thou alone werethew so to triumph to triumph

to triumph and royalty to what end these and signs of your pomp and royalty dull that thou art why tis to meet my love as when i saw him first on sidness's bank all sparkling like a goddess so adorned i'll find him once again my second spousals shall match my first in glory. Haste, haste both, and dress the bride of Antony. Tis dawn. Now, seat me by my lord. I claim this place, for I must conquer Caesar too like him, and win my share of the world. Hail you dear relics of my immortal love. Oh, let no impious hand remove you hence, but rest for ever here. Let Egypt give his death that peace which it denied his life. Reach me the casket. Underneath the fruit, the Aspic lies.

Cleopatra, putting aside the leaves. Welcome, thou kind deceiver. Thou best of thieves, who with an easy key does open life, and, unperceived by us, even steal us from ourselves, discharging so, death's dreadful office, better than himself. Touching our limbs so gently into slumber that death stands by, deceived by his own image, and thinks himself but sleep. Serapian within.

The queen, where is she? The town is yielded. Caesar's at the gates. He comes too late to invade the rights of death. Haste, bear my arm, and rouse the serpent's fury. Holds out her arm and draws it back. Coward flesh, wouldst thou conspire with Caesar to betray me, as thou wert none of mine? I'll force thee to it and not be sent by him, but bring myself, my soul, to Antony.

Turns aside and then shows her arm bloody. Take hence, the work is done. Serapian within Break out the door And guard the traitor well The next is ours Now Carmian To be worthy of our great queen and mistress

They apply the aspects 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 numbness creeps through every limb, And now, tis at my head, My eyelids fall,

And my dear love is vanquished in a mist. Where shall I find him? Where? Oh, turn me to him, and lay me on his breast. Caesar, thy worst. Now, part us, if thou canst. Ah. Dyes.

Iris sinks down at her feet and dies. Carmian stands behind her chair as dressing her head. Enter Serapion to priests, Alexis bound, Egyptians. Behold, Serapion, what havoc death has made. T'was what I feared. Charmion, is this well done? Yes, tis well done. And like a queen, the last of a great race. I follow her. Sinks down, dies.

Tis true, she has done well, much better thus to die than live to make a holiday in Rome. See how the lovers sit in state together, as they were giving laws to half mankind. the impression of a smile left in her face shows she died pleased with him for whom she lived and went to charm him in another world caesar's just entering grief has now no leisure secure that villain as our pledge of safety to grace the imperial triumph sleep blessed pair secure from huge chance long ages out while all the storms of fate fly or your tomb and fame to late posterity shall tell no lovers live so great or died so well Exaunt. End of Act 5. Epilogue.

Poets, like disputants, when reasons fail, have one sure refuge left, and that's to rail. Fop, Coxcomb, Fool, are thundered through the pit, and this is all their equipage of wit. We wonder how the devil this difference grows, betwixt our fools in verse, and yours in prose. For faith, the quarrel rightly understood tis civil war with their own flesh and blood. The threadbare author hates the gaudy coat and swears at the guilt coach, but swears afoot.

For tis observed of every scribbling man, he grows a fop as fast as air he can, prunes up and asks his oracle, the glass, if pink or purple best become his face. For our poor wretch, he neither rails nor praise, Nor likes your wit, just as you like his plays. He has not yet so much of Mr. Bays. He does his best, and if he cannot please,

Would quietly sue out his writ of ease. Yet, if he might his own grand jury call, By the fair sex he begs to stand or fall, Let Caesar's power, men's ambition move, but grace you him who lost the world for love. Yet if some antiquated lady say the last age is not copied in his play, heaven help the man who for that face must drudge which only has the wrinkles of a judge. Let not the young and beauteous join with those, for should you raise such numerous hosts of foes, young wits and sparks he to

his aid must call. Tis more than one man's work to please you all. End of All for Love or the World Well Lost, a tragedy by John Dryden.