Ant.
'TIS plain, Ventidius, Cæsar has dissembled;
He knows no honour, he!—and the conditions,
Sent by Octavia and Dolabella,
Were treacherously meant.

Ven.
You please to think so.

Ant.
Is it not clear?—He'll not withdraw his troops.

Ven.
And thus the war continues.—I had hopes
To patch up peace.

Ant.
Thou see'st it cannot be.

Ven.
Well, well!

Ant.
So cold! wilt thou, as numbers have,
When Fortune is upon the wane, forsake me?

Ven.
I shall forsake you when I die;—not sooner.

Ant.
My friend! (soften'd).

Ven.
Come, cheerly, General;—your genius
O'er Cæsar's still may rise;—for him you conquer'd;
Philippi knows it;—then you shared with him
That Empire which your sword made all your own.

Ant.
Fool that I was!—upon my Eagle's wing,
I bore this Wren, till I was tired of soaring,
And, now, he mounts above me.

Ven.
We lose time.
The day advances.

Ant.
We'll to yonder eminence:—
The preparation is, to-day, by sea;
We please them not by land.

Ven.
The preparation
Is both for sea and land: On sea, I fear,
Tis a frail venture, since your loss at Actium.

Ant.
I would they fought in fire, or in the air!
We'd fight there too.—But, this it is, Ventidius:
Order for sea is given; and our best force
Is forth to man the gallies.—With our foot,
Upon the hills adjoining to the City,
Their naval movements we may best discover,
And look on their endeavours.—Follow me. [Exit Antony.

Ven.
Swallows have built
In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the Augurers

Say, they know not,—they cannot tell,—look grimly,
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,
His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear,
Of what he has, and has not.—To the last,
Though my brave General be fall'n to dotage,
My love, against my judgment, clings to him. [Exit.

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