 | Antony and Cleopatra |  |
SCENE VIII.
Scarus enters.Scar.
My lord.
Ant.
There is no other shift—vengeance!—
No other use for life—tremendous, sudden!—
What,—Scarus, I say!
Scar.
I wait your pleasure, sir.
Ant.
O, are you there?—
I had a thing to order—Stay—I have it.—
Dispatch, man!—
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Nine stories high!
At which the astonish'd earth may gaze from far,
And tremble at our justice!
Scar.
Might I presume?
Ant.
Away,—and see it done!
[Exit Scarus.
But soft—how then, how then?
I give the scoffing world to plaud itself,
In blaming my long dotage.—
Haply, 'tis but the fault of nature in her!
All women may be thus—no doubt, no doubt—
And virtue but their skill, for covering naughtiness—
Damn'd, damn'd adulteress—contaminate to the bone,
And the lewd marrow!—
O, my poor children!—
How has her foulness shed the frost of infamy
Upon your blighted heads!—better for you,
Her shame were partly covered!—What, and if
I seem to cast the first contempt upon her?—
Right—this instant—
Quit her in scorn!—to Rome—to Parthia—any where!
Furthest is best—Ho, Enobarbus!
[Servant enters.
Serv.
Call'd you, my lord?
Ant.
Send Enobarbus to us.
[Exit Servant.
Whence is this grief to man?—O misery!
That he would give you twenty thousand worlds,
But for a little truth in one small woman,
Yet may not purchase.—Curse her, curse her, curse her!
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The bitter of remorse,—
Be it her daily cup!—Infix, ye furies,
Infix your scorpions in her tainted flesh—
Set all her losses, all my wrongs before her,
And gnaw her harlot-heart!—
| Antony and Cleopatra | |