« PreviousContinue »
Ant. Say to me, whose fortune shall rise higher, Cæsar's or mine? Sooth. Cæsar's. ---Therefore, oh Antony, stay not
by his side. (25) Thy Demon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is Noble, couragious, high, unmatchable, Where Cæfar's is not. But, near him, thy angel Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpower'd; and therefore Make space enough between you.
Ant. Speak this no more.
Give it an Understanding, but no Tongue. And Notion is a Word which our Author frequently chuses, to express the mental Faculties.
Does Lear walk thus ? Speak thus ? where are his Eyes?
n weakens, his Difcernings
: K. Lear.
my grave Lords.'
Your Judgments, my grave Lords,
And all Things else, that might
: Abus'd her delicate Youth with Drugs, or Minerals,
Othello. (25) Thy Dæmon] Shakespeare calls That Dæmon in one Line, which he calls Angel in another : and This, I conceive, not accidentally, but knowingly. It is to be obferv'd, that the antient Greek Authors always used the Word Dæmon in the Sense of God, Demi-god, or celeftigl Being ; and that it had not the signification of Devil, malignant or infernal Being, 'till after the Time of Christianity. Since that Period, it has been uled for Both; but by the Christian Writers most commonly in the latter Sense. This is the Reason, why Apuleius intitled one of his Tracts De Deô Socratis, and not, as it should have been more classically, De Dæmoniô Socratis ; when the Question in the Book was whether a Dæmon, i. e. an inferior or Demi-god did not attend that Philosopher; which he . determines in the Affirmative. For had he done That, the Word De mon being become, since the preaching of the Gospel, so odious, Socrates. would have been esteem'd a Demoniac, or One possess’d with an Evil Spirit.
Beat mines all to noughattel ftill of mic speeds;
He bears thee 'gainst the odds. Thy lustre thickens, · When he shines by: I lay again, thy Spirit
Is all afraid to govern thee near him :
Ant. Get thee gone :
Enter Lepidus, Mecænas, and Agrippå.
Agr. Sir, Mark Antony
Lep. 'Till I shall see you in your Soldiers' dress,
Met. We shall,
Lep. Your way is shorter,
Both. Sir, good success.
n's ready [Exeunt,
SCENE SCENE changes to the Palace in Alexandria.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Alexas. Cleo. GIVE me some musick : mufick, moody food
J Of us that trade in love. Omnes. The musick, hoa!
Enter Mardian the Eunuch. Cleo. Let it alone, let's to billiards : come, Charmian.
Char. My arm is fore, best play with Mardian.
Cleo. As well a Woman with an Eunuch play'd,
Mar. As well as I can, Madam.
Char. 'Twas merry, when
Cleo. That time! - oh times!
whilf I wore his Sword Philippan.) We are not to suppose, nor is there any Warrant from History, that Antony had any particular Sword so call’d. The dignifying Weapons, in this Sort, is a Custom of much more recent Date. This therefore seems a Compliment à pofteriori: We
Enter a Messenger.
Mef. Madam! Madam! -
Cleo. Antony's dead?
Mes. First, Madam, he is well.
Mef. Good Madam, hear me.
Cleo. Well, go to, I will: But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony Be free and healthful; why so tart a favour To trumpet such good tidings ? if not well, Thou should'It come like a fury crown'd with snakes, Not like a formal man.
Mes. Will’t please you hear me?
Cleo. I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak'st;
Mej. Madam, he's well.
find Antony afterwards, in this Play, boating of his own Prowess at Philippi. . Ant. Yes, my Lord, yes; he at Philippi kept
His Sword e'e'n like a Dancer, while I strook
The lean and wrinkled Caius; &c. That was the greatelt Action of Antony's Life; and therefore This seems a fine Piece of Flattery, intimating, that his Sword ought to be denominated from that illustrious Battle, in the same manner as modern Heroes in Romance are made to give their Swords pompous Names.
Mel. And friends with Cæfar.
Cleo. I do not like but yet, it do's allay
Cleo. For what good turn?
. [Strikes him down. Mes. Good Madam, patience. Cleo. What say you?
[Strikes him. Hence, horrible villain, or I'll spurn thine eyes Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:
. [She hales him up and down. Thou shalt be whipt with wire, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in lingring pickle,
Mef. Gracious Madam,
Cleo. Say, 'tis not so, a Province I will give thee,
(27) Free, Madam! no ; I have made no fuch Sport.) I don't know how to account for this odd Piece of Negligence in Mr. Pope. 'Tis true, this is the Reading in Mr. Rowe's Edition : and there are many InHances to suspect, that he implicitly follow'd the Steps of that Editor, without collating the Copies of better Authority. The elder Folio's both read plainly, as I have reform'd the Text.