_Alex._ You, when his matchless valour bears him forward, With ardour too heroic, on his foes, Fall down, as she would do, before his feet; Lie in his way, and stop the paths of death; Tell him, this god is not invulnerable; That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him; And, that you may remember her petition, She begs you wear these trifles, as a pawn, Which, at your wisht return, she will redeem [_Gives jewels to the Commanders._ With all the wealth of Egypt: This to the great Ventidius she presents, Whom she can never count her enemy, Because he loves her lord. _Vent._ Tell her, I'll none on't; I'm not ashamed of honest poverty; Not all the diamonds of the east can bribe Ventidius from his faith. I hope to see These, and the rest of all her sparkling store, Where they shall more deservingly be placed. _Ant._ And who must wear them then? _Vent._ The wronged Octavia. _Ant._ You might have spared that word. _Vent._ And he that bribe. _Ant._ But have I no remembrance? _Alex._ Yes, a dear one; Your slave, the queen-- _Ant._ My mistress. _Alex._ Then your mistress; Your mistress would, she 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, may bind your arm. [_Presenting a bracelet._ _Vent._ Now, my best lord,--in honour'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 dipt the silk. _Ant._ Nay, now you grow too cynical, Ventidius: A lady's favours may be worn with honour. What, to refuse her bracelet! on my soul, When I lie pensive in my tent alone, 'Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights, To tell these pretty beads upon my arm, To count for every one a soft embrace, A melting kiss at such and such a time; And now and then the fury of her love, When--And what harm's in this? _Alex._ None, none, my lord, But what's to her, that now 'tis past for ever. _Ant._ [_Going to tie it._] We soldiers are so awkward--help me tie it. _Alex._ In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are awkward In these affairs: so are all men indeed: Even I, who am not one. But shall I speak? _Ant._ Yes, freely. _Alex._ Then, my lord, fair hands alone Are fit to tie it; she, who sent it, can. _Vent._ Hell, death! this eunuch pandar ruins you. You will not see her? [ALEXAS _whispers an Attendant, who goes out._ _Ant._ But to take my leave. _Vent._ Then I have washed an AEthiop. You're undone; You're in the toils; you're taken; you're destroyed: Her eyes do Caesar's work. _Ant._ You fear too soon. I'm constant to myself: I know my strength; And yet she shall not think me barbarous neither, Born in the depths of Afric: I'm a Roman, Bred to the rules of soft humanity. A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell.