_Dola._ Help, help:--Oh wretch! O cursed, cursed wretch! What have I done! _Char._ Help, chafe her temples, Iras. _Iras._ Bend, bend her forward quickly. _Char._ Heaven be praised, She comes again. _Cleo._ O let him not approach me. Why have you brought me back to this loathed being, The abode of falsehood, violated vows, And injured love? For pity, let me go; For, if there be a place of long repose, I'm sure I want it. My disdainful lord Can never break that quiet; nor awake The sleeping soul, with hollowing in my tomb Such words as fright her hence.--Unkind, unkind! _Dola._ Believe me, 'tis against myself I speak; [_Kneeling._ That sure desires belief; I injured him: My friend ne'er spoke those words. Oh, had you seen How often he came back, and every time With something more obliging and more kind, To add to what he said; what dear farewells; How almost vanquished by his love he parted, And leaned to what unwillingly he left! I, traitor as I was, for love of you, (But what can you not do, who made me false!) I forged that lie; for whose forgiveness kneels This self-accused, self-punished criminal. _Cleo._ With how much ease believe we what we wish! Rise, Dolabella; if you have been guilty, I have contributed, and too much love Has made me guilty too. The advance of kindness, which I made, was feigned, To call back fleeting love by jealousy; But 'twould not last. Oh, rather let me lose, Than so ignobly trifle with his heart. _Dola._ I find your breast fenced round from human reach, Transparent as a rock of solid crystal; Seen through, but never pierced. My friend, my friend! What endless treasure hast thou thrown away; And scattered, like an infant, in the ocean, Vain sums of wealth, which none can gather thence! _Cleo._ Could you not beg An hour's admittance to his private ear? Like one, who wanders through long barren wilds; And yet foreknows no hospitable inn Is near to succour hunger, Eats his fill, before his painful march: So would I feed a while my famished eyes Before we part; for I have far to go, If death be far, and never must return. VENTIDIUS, _with_ OCTAVIA, _behind._ _Vent._ From hence you may discover--Oh, sweet, sweet! Would you indeed? the pretty hand in earnest? _Dola._ I will, for this reward. [_Takes her hand._ Draw it not back, 'Tis all I e'er will beg. _Vent._ They turn upon us. _Octav._ What quick eyes has guilt! _Vent._ Seem not to have observed them, and go on. _They enter._ _Dola._ Saw you the emperor, Ventidius? _Vent._ No. I sought him; but I heard that he was private, None with him but Hipparchus, his freedman. _Dola._ Know you his business? _Vent._ Giving him instructions, And letters to his brother Caesar. _Dola._ Well, He must be found. [_Exeunt_ DOLA. _and_ CLEO. _Octav._ Most glorious impudence!