_Vent._ Well pushed: that last was home. _Cleo._ Yet may I speak? _Ant._ If I have urged a falsehood, yes; else, not. Your silence says, I have not. Fulvia died; (Pardon, you gods, with my unkindness died.) To set the world at peace, I took Octavia, This Caesar's sister; in 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 (Oh stain to honour! Oh lasting shame!) I knew not that I fled; But fled to follow you. _Vent._ What haste she made to hoist her purple sails! And, to appear magnificent in flight, Drew half our strength away. _Ant._ All this you caused. 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 seize them too. If you have aught to answer, Now speak, you have free leave. _Alex._ [_Aside._] She stands confounded: Despair is in her eyes. _Vent._ Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his passage: Prepare a tear, and bid it for his legions; 'Tis like they shall be sold. _Cleo._ How shall I plead my cause, when you, my judge, Already have 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 past, is, at the best, forgotten; But oftener sours to hate: 'twill 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 deserve this usage, Was it like you to give it? _Ant._ O you wrong me, To think I sought this parting, or desired To accuse you more than what will clear myself, And justify this breach. _Cleo._ Thus low I thank you; And, since my innocence will not offend, I shall not blush to own it. _Vent._ After this, I think she'll blush at nothing. _Cleo._ 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, 'twas 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.