_Vent._ Speak boldly. Yours, he would say, in your declining age, When no more heat was left but what you forced, When all the sap was needful for the trunk, When it went down, then you constrained the course, And robbed from nature, to supply desire; In you (I would not use so harsh a word) 'Tis but plain dotage. _Ant._ Ha! _Dola._ 'Twas urged too home.-- But yet the loss was private, that I made; 'Twas but myself I lost: I lost no legions; I had no world to lose, no people's love. _Ant._ This from a friend? _Dola._ Yes, Antony, a true one; A friend so tender, that each word I speak Stabs my own heart, before it reach your ear. O, judge me not less kind, because I chide! To Caesar I excuse you. _Ant._ O ye gods! Have I then lived to be excused to Caesar? _Dola._ As to your equal. _Ant._ Well, he's but my equal: While I wear this, he never shall be more. _Dola._ I bring conditions from him. _Ant._ Are they noble? Methinks thou shouldst not bring them else; yet he Is full of deep dissembling; knows no honour Divided from his interest. Fate mistook him; For nature meant him for an usurer: He's fit indeed to buy, not conquer kingdoms. _Vent._ Then, granting this, What power was theirs, who wrought so hard a temper To honourable terms? _Ant._ It was my Dolabella, or some god. _Dola._ Not I; nor yet Mecaenas, nor Agrippa: They were your enemies; and I, a friend, Too weak alone; yet 'twas a Roman's deed. _Ant._ 'Twas like a Roman done: show me that man, Who has preserved my life, my love, my honour; Let me but see his face. _Vent._ That task is mine, And, heaven, thou know'st how pleasing. [_Exit_ VENT. _Dola._ You'll remember To whom you stand obliged? _Ant._ When I forget it, Be thou unkind, and that's my greatest curse. My queen shall thank him too. _Dola._ I fear she will not. _Ant._ But she shall do it: The queen, my Dolabella! Hast thou not still some grudgings of thy fever? _Dola._ I would not see her lost. _Ant._ When I forsake her, Leave me, my better stars! for she has truth Beyond her beauty. Caesar tempted her, At no less price than kingdoms, to betray me; But she resisted all: and yet thou chidest me For loving her too well. Could I do so? _Dola._ Yes; there's my reason. _Re-enter_ VENTIDIUS, _with_ OCTAVIA, _leading_ ANTONY'S _two little Daughters._ _Ant._ Where?--Octavia there! [_Starting back._ _Vent._ What, is she poison to you? a disease? Look on her, view her well, and those she brings: Are they all strangers to your eyes? has nature No secret call, no whisper they are yours? _Dola._ For shame, my lord, if not for love, receive them With kinder eyes. If you confess a man, Meet them, embrace them, bid them welcome to you. Your arms should open, even without your knowledge, To clasp them in; your feet should turn to wings, To bear you to them; and your eyes dart out, And aim a kiss, ere you could reach the lips.