_Gent._ He eats not, drinks not, sleeps not, has no use Of any thing, 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 lip, 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." _Vent._ Just, just his nature. Virtue's 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 fault, 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. [ALEXAS _and the Priests come forward._ _Alex._ You have your full instructions, now advance; Proclaim your orders loudly. _Serap._ 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, Antony; and Cleopatra live! Be this the general voice sent up to heaven, And every public place repeat this echo. _Vent._ Fine pageantry! [_Aside._ _Serap._ Set before your doors The images of all your sleeping fathers, With laurels crowned; with laurels wreath your posts, And strew with flowers the pavement; let the priests Do present sacrifice; pour out the wine, And call the gods to join with you in gladness. _Vent._ 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 grandsires' images, For fear their souls should animate their marbles, To blush at their degenerate progeny. _Alex._ A love, which knows no bounds to Antony, Would mark the day with honours, when all heaven Laboured for him, when each propitious star Stood wakeful in his orb, to watch that hour, And shed his better influence. Her own birth-day Our queen neglected, like a vulgar fate, That passed obscurely by. _Vent._ 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! _Alex._ Your emperor, Though grown unkind, would be more gentle, than To upbraid my queen for loving him too well.