 | Antony and Cleopatra |  |
419
SCENE VIII.
To Antony Enobarbus.Enob.
Pardon, my lord, I have greatly wrong'd your Queen—
Yes, greatly wrong'd her!—On my soul, she has been
Loyal and loving, ever—Curs'd Photinus,
That recreant slave, Photinus, has betray'd
Her, you, and us, and all our world, to Cæsar.
But, more of that, when time may serve—
Haste, haste, my master, while there yet remains
A hold to hang a hope on!
Ant.
What hold, what hope?
I have lifted Cæsar to his heav'n of empire;
And now, the scaffolding, by which he rose,
Is cast to ruin!
Enob.
Near the western gate,
I have a band of trusty resolutes.
Ant.
Ha, say'st thou?
Enob.
For a sally!
Ant.
One bold push!
Enob.
One gallant chance!
Ant.
To perish warm!
Enob.
Or force our passage!
Ant.
To Parthia,—noble!—to retrieve a world,
Or in a blaze expire—Come on, my soldier!
[Exeunt.
| Antony and Cleopatra | |