Though one most dear, when all his hopes are dead,
To drown him, set thy foot upon his head.
Achor. Most execrable counsel !

Achil. To be follow'd;

"Tis for the kingdom's safety.

Ptol. We give up

Our absolute power to thee: Dispose of it
As reason shall direct thee.

Pho. Good Achillas,

Seek out Septimius: Do you but sooth him;
He is already wrought. Leave the dispatch
To me, of Labienus: 'Tis determined

Already how you shall proceed. Nor fate
Shall alter it, since now the dye is cast,
But that this hour to Pompey is his last!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

An Apartment in the Palace of Cleopatra.

Enter APOLLODORUS, EROS, ARSINOE, and a Boy.

Apol. Is the queen stirring, Eros?

Eros. Yes; for in truth

She touch'd no bed to-night.

Apol. I am sorry for it,

And wish it were in me, with my hazard,

To give her ease.

Års. Sir, she accepts your will,

And does acknowledge she hath found you noble,

3 And wish it were in me, with my hazard.] Seward and Coleman read-with any hazard; but the original text, now restored, means, with the hazard of myself, and is better than the alteration.

So far, as if restraint of liberty

Could give admission to a thought of mirth,
She is your debtor for it.

Apol. Did you tell her

Of the sports I have prepared to entertain her? She was used to take delight,' with her fair hand To angle in the Nile, where the glad fish,

As if they knew who 'twas sought to deceive 'em, Contended to be taken: Other times,

To strike the stag, who, wounded by her arrows, Forgot his tears in death, and kneeling thanks her To his last gasp; then prouder of his fate,

9 She used to take delight, with her fair hand

To angle in the Nile, &c.] This description, particularly that of the stag enamoured with his death, is extremely poetical, and one may say of it what I have heard said by connoisseurs of the famous picture of Michael and Satan by Guido, it has vast beauties, and would be a capital piece, did it not put one in mind of one upon the same subject by Raphael. I freely own, that our authors are as far short of Shakspeare's description of Cleopatra sailing up the Cydnus.-Seward.

In the last edition, Mr Reed observes, that Shakspeare himself has been equalled, if not excelled, by Dryden in All for Love. Whether this observation is well-founded or not, no comparison can be instituted between the passages referred to in these great poets and the one in the text, which can never have been intended as a rival to Shakspeare's celebrated description. In fact, the lines are by no means in the best manner of our authors, being quite in the style of Marino, Donne, and Cowley. The very same conceit occurs in a black letter ballad of little value, entitled, "A most excellent Song of the Loves of young Palmus and fair Sheldra, and their unfortunate Love. To the tune of Shackley-hay."Evans's Ballads, 1810, vol. I. p. 52:

"And walking lazily to the strand,
We'll angle in the brook,

And fish with thy white lilly hand,
Thou need'st no other hook;

To which the fish will soon be brought,

And strive which shall the first be caught.

A thousand pleasures will we try

As we do row to Shackley-hay."

Than if, with garlands crown'd, he had been chosen To fall a sacrifice before the altar

Of the virgin huntress. The king, nor great Photinus,

Forbid her any pleasure; and the circuit
In which she is confined, gladly affords
Variety of pastimes, which I would
Increase with my best service.
Eros. Oh, but the thought

That she that was born free, and to dispense
Restraint or liberty to others, should be
At the devotion of her brother, (whom
She only knows her equal) makes this place
In which she lives, though stored with all delights,
A loathsome dungeon to her.

Apol. Yet, howe'er

She shall interpret it, I'll not be wanting
To do my best to serve her: I have prepared
Choice musick near her cabinet, and composed
Some few lines, set unto a solemn time,'
In the praise of imprisonment.-Begin, boy.

SONG, by the Boy.

Look out, bright eyes, and bless the air ::
Even in shadows you are fair.

Shut-up beauty is like fire,

That breaks out clearer still and higher.

Though your body be confined,

And soft love a prisoner bound,

Yet the beauty of your mind

Neither check nor chain hath found.

Look out nobly then, and dare

Eo'n the fetters that you wear.

* Set unto a solemn time.] That is, in a slow solemn measure of music.

1

Cleo. But that we are assured this tastes of duty And love in you, my guardian, and desire In you, my sister, and the rest, to please us, We should receive this as a saucy rudeness Offer'd our private thoughts. But your intents Are to delight us: Alas, you wash an Ethiop! Can Cleopatra, while she does remember Whose daughter she is, and whose sister (oh, I suffer in the name !) and that, in justice, There is no place in Egypt where I stand, But that the tributary earth is proud To kiss the foot of her that is her queen; Can she, I say, that is all this, e'er relish Of comfort or delight, while base Photinus, Bondman Achillas, and all other monsters That reign o'er Ptolemy, make that a court Where they reside; and this, where I, a prison? But there's a Rome, a Senate, and a Cæsar, Though the great Pompey lean to Ptolemy, May think of Cleopatra.

Apol. Pompey, madam

Cleo. What of him? Speak! If ill, Apollodorus, It is my happiness; and, for thy news,

Receive a favour kings have kneel'd in vain for, And kiss my hand.

Apol. He's lost.

Cleo. Speak it again!

Apol. His army routed, he fled, and pursued By the all-conquering Cæsar.

Cleo. Whither bends he?

Apol. To Egypt.

Cleo. Ha! In person?

...Apol. 'Tis received

For an undoubted truth.

Cleo. I live again;

And if assurance of my love and beauty
Deceive me not, I now shall find a judge
To do me right! But how to free myself,
And get access? The guards are strong upon me;
This door I must pass through.-Apollodorus,
Thou often hast profess'd, to do me service,
Thy life was not thine own.

Apol. I am not alter'd;

And let your excellency propound a means,
In which I may but give the least assistance
That may restore you to that you were born to,
Though it call on the anger of the king,
Or, what's more deadly, all his minion
Photinus can do to me, I, unmoved,

Offer my throat to serve you; ever provided,
It bear some probable show to be effected:
To lose myself upon no ground were madness,
Not loyal duty.

Cleo. [To ARSINOE and EROS.] Stand off!-To
thee alone,
[To APOLLODORUS..

I will discover what I dare not trust

My sister with. Cæsar is amorous,

And taken more with the title of a queen,
Than feature or proportion; he loved Eunoe,
A Moor, deform'd too, I have heard, that brought
No other object to inflame his blood,

But that her husband was a king; on both
He did bestow rich presents: Shall I then,
That, with a princely birth, bring beauty with me,
That know to prize myself at mine own rate,
Despair his favour? Art thou mine?

Apol. I am.

Cleo. I have found out a way shall bring me to him,

'Spite of Photinus' watches. If I prosper, As I am confident I shall, expect