_Vent._ How sorrow shakes him! [_Aside._ So, now the tempest tears him up by the roots, And on the ground extends the noble ruin. [ANT. _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 'twill be too large. When thou'rt contracted in thy narrow urn, Shrunk to a few cold 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 more on't. _Ant._ Give me some music; look that it be sad: I'll sooth my melancholy, till I swell, And burst myself with sighing.-- [_Soft music._ 'Tis somewhat to my humour: stay, I fancy I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature; Of all forsaken, and forsaking all; Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene, Stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak, I lean my head upon the mossy bark, And look just of a piece as I grew from it; My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe, Hang o'er my hoary face; a murm'ring brook Runs at my foot. _Vent._ Methinks, I fancy Myself there too. _Ant._ The herd come jumping by me, And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on, And take me for their fellow-citizen. More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts. [_Soft music again._ _Vent._ I must disturb him; I can hold no longer. [_Stands before him._ _Ant._ [_Starting up._] Art thou Ventidius? _Vent._ Are you Antony? I'm liker what I was, than you to him I left you last. _Ant._ I'm angry. _Vent._ So am I. _Ant._ I would be private: leave me. _Vent._ Sir, I love you, And therefore will not leave you. _Ant._ Will not leave me! Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I? _Vent._ My emperor; the man I love next heaven: If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin: You're all that's good, and godlike. _Ant._ All that's wretched. You will not leave me then? _Vent._ 'Twas too presuming To say I would not; but I dare not leave you: And, 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence So soon, when I so far have come to see you. _Ant._ Now thou hast seen me, art thou satified? For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough; And, if a foe, too much. _Vent._ Look, emperor, this is no common dew, [_Weeping._ I have not wept this forty years; but now My mother comes afresh into my eyes; I cannot help her softness. _Ant._ By heaven, he weeps! poor good old man, he weeps! The big round drops course one another down The furrows of his cheeks.--Stop them, Ventidius, Or I shall blush to death: they set my shame, That caused them, full before me. _Vent._ I'll do my best.