Ant. O Dolabella, which way shall I turn?
I find a secret yielding in my soul;
But Cleopatra, who would die with me,
Must she be left? Pity pleads for Octavia?
But does it not plead more for Cleopatra?

Vent. Justice and pity both plead for Octavia;
For Cleopatra, neither.
One would be ruined with you; but she first
Had ruined you: The other, you have ruined,
And yet she would preserve you.
In everything their merits are unequal.

Ant. O my distracted soul!

Octav. Sweet Heaven compose it!—
Come, come, my lord, if I can pardon you,
Methinks you should accept it. Look on these;
Are they not yours? Go to stand they thus neglected,
As they are mine? Go to him, children, go;
Kneel to him, take him by the hand, speak to him;
For you may speak, and he may own you too,
Without a blush; and so he cannot all
His children: go, I say, and pull him to me,
And pull him to yourselves, from that bad woman.
You, Agrippina, hang upon his arms;
And you, Antonia, clasp about his waist:
If he will shake you off, if he will dash you
Against the pavement, you must bear it, children;
For you are mine, and I was born to suffer.

[Here the Children go to him, etc.

Vent. Was ever sight so moving?—Emperor!

Dola. Friend!

Octav. Husband!

Both Child. Father!

Ant. I am vanquished: take me,
Octavia; take me, children; share me all.

[Embracing them.

Octav. O blest hour!

Dola. O happy change!

Vent. My joy stops at my tongue;
But it has found two channels here for one,
And bubbles out above.

Ant. [to Octav.]. This is thy triumph; lead me where thou wilt;
Even to thy brother’s camp.

Octav. All there are yours.

Enter Alexas hastily.

Alex. The queen, my mistress, sir, and yours—

Ant. ’Tis past.—
Octavia, you shall stay this night: To-morrow,
Cæsar and we are one.

[Exit leading Octavia; Dolabella and the Children follow.

Vent. There’s news for you; run, my officious eunuch,
Be sure to be the first; haste forward:
Haste, my dear eunuch, haste.

[Exit

Alex. This downright fighting fool, this thick-skulled hero,
This blunt, unthinking instrument of death,
With plain dull virtue has outgone my wit.
Pleasure forsook my earliest infancy;
The luxury of others robbed my