[John Dryden, a celebrated English poet, was born in 1631, and died in 1700. He was a voluminous writer, his works comprising tragedies, comedies, satires, didactic poems, narrative poems, odes, and occasional pieces. His is an eminent name in English literature. No writer is a greater master in the use of the heroic measure, and no one possesses in so high a degree the power of reasoning in verse. He was also a forcible and animated prose writer.

The following scene is from the tragedy of " All for Love." Mark Antony, a distinguished Roman, despairing of further success in the field, after his defeat at Actium, gives himself up to inglorious ease. Ventidius is one of his generals. Octavius Cæsar (afterwards the Emperor Augustus) has taken up arms against Antony. Cleopatra is the Queen of Egypt, for whom Antony has abandoned his wife Octavia, the sister of Octavius Cæsar.]

Antony. Art thou Ventidius?

Ventidius.

Are you Antony?

I'm liker what I was, than you to him

Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I?

Ven. My Emperor: the man I love next Heaven. If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin;

You're all that's good and noble.

Ant.

You will not leave me, then?

Ven.

All that's wretched.

"Twas too presuming

То say I would not but I dare not leave you;
And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence

So soon, when I so far have come to see you.

Ant. Now thou hast seen me, art thou satisfied?

For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough;

And, if a foe, too much.

Ven. Look, Emperor, this is no common dew:

I have not wept these forty years;

but now

My mother comes afresh into my eyes;

I cannot help her softness.

Ant. Sure there's contagion' in the tears of friends; See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not

For my own griefs, but thine

Ven. Emperor.

- nay, father

Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of victory. The conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Salutes his general so: but never more

Shall that sound reach my ears.

Ant. Thou favor'st me, and speak'st not half thou think'st;

For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly:

But Antony

Ven.

Ant.

Nay, stop not.

Antony

(Well, thou wilt have it) - like a coward fled,

Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius.
Thou long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave.
I know thou cam'st prepared to rail.

I did.

Ventidius.

I know thy meaning.

Ven.
Ant. I'll help thee-I have been a man,
Ven. Yes, and a brave one: but —
Ant.
But I have lost my reason, have disgraced
The name of soldier, with inglorious ease.
In the full vintage of my flowing honors
Sate still, and saw it pressed by other hands.

2

* Julius Cæsar.

Fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed it,
And purple greatness met my ripened years.
When first I came to empire I was borne
On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs.
I was so great, so happy, so beloved,

Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,

And worked against my fortune, chid her from me,
And turned her loose: yet still she came again.
My careless days, and my luxurious nights,
At length have wearied her, and now she's gone,
Gone, gone, divorced' forever.

Ven. You are too sensible already

Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings;
And, like a scorpion, whipped by others first
To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge.
Ant. Dost thou think me desperate
Without just cause? No, when I found all lost
Beyond repair, I hid me from the world,

And learnt to scorn it here; which now I do
So heartily, I think it is not worth

The cost of keeping.

Ven.

Cæsar thinks not so;

He'll thank you for the gift he could not take.

You would be killed like Tully,* would you? Do
Hold out your throat to Cæsar, and die tamely.

Ant. No, I can kill myself; and so resolve.

Ven. I can die with you, too, when time shall serve ; But fortune calls upon us now to live,

To fight, to conquer.

Ant.

Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius.

Ven. No, 'tis you dream; you sleep away your hours In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy.

Up, up, for honor's sake; twelve legions wait you,

Marcus Tullius Cicero, a distinguished Roman orator, was born 106 B. C He was slain by a party of soldiers, agents of Antony, B. C. 43.

And long to call you Chief. By painful journeys
I led them, patient both of heat and hunger,
Down from the Parthian marches" to the Nile.
Twill do you good to see their sun-burnt faces,
Their scarred cheeks, and chapped hands; there's virtue in
them.

Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids, To double my despair? They're mutinous?

Ven. There's but one way shut up - how came I hither! Ant. I will not stir.

Ven.

A better reason.

Ant.

They would perhaps desire

I have never used

My soldiers to demand a reason of

My actions. Why did they refuse to march?

Ven. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.
Ant. What was't they said?

Ven. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.
Why should they fight, indeed, to make her conquer,
And make you more a slave?

Ant.

You grow presumptuous. Ven. I take the privilege of plain love to speak. Ant. Plain love! Plain arrogance, plain insolence! Thy men are cowards; thou an envious traitor;

Who, under seeming honesty, hast vented
The burden of thy rank, o'erflowing gall.
O, that thou wert my equal; great in arms
As the first Cæsar was, that I might kill thee,
Without stain to my honor!

Which none else durst have done. But had I been,

That name, which I disdain to speak again,

I needed not have sought your abject fortunes,
Come to partake your fate, to die with you.
What hindered me to have led my conquering eagles,
To fill Octavius' bands? I could have been

A traitor then-a glorious, happy traitor!
And not have been so called.

Ant.

I've been too passionate.

Ven.

Forgive me, soldier;

You thought me false;

Thought my old age betrayed you. Kill me, sir;

Pray kill me; yet you need not

Has left your sword no work.

Ant.

your unkindness

I did not think so;

I said it in my rage: pr'ythee, forgive me.
Why didst thou tempt my anger, by discovery'

Of what I could not hear?

Ven.

No prince but you Could merit that sincerity I used;

Nor durst another man have ventured it.

Ant. Thou shalt behold me once again in iron; And, at the head of our old troops, that beat

The Parthians, cry aloud, Come, follow me!

Ven. O, now I hear my Emperor! In that word Octavius fell. Methinks you breathe