Dola. I will, for this reward.

[Takes her hand

Vent. They turn upon us.

Octav. What quick eyes has guilt!

Vent. Seem not to have observed them, and go on.

They enter.

Dola. Saw you the emperor, Ventidius?

Vent. No.
I sought him; but I heard that he was private,
None with him but Hipparchus, his freedman.

Dola. Know you his business?

Vent. Giving him instructions,
And letters to his brother Cæsar.

Dola. Well,
He must be found.

[Exeunt Dolabella and Cleopatra.

Octav. Most glorious impudence!

Vent. She looked, methought,
As she would say—Take your old man, Octavia;
Thank you, I’m better here.—
Well, but what use
Make we of this discovery?

Octav. Let it die.

Vent. I pity Dolabella; but she’s dangerous;
Her eyes have power beyond Thessalian charms,
To draw the moon from heaven; for eloquence,
The sea-green Syrens taught her voice their flattery;
And, while she speaks, night steals upon the day,
Unmarked of those that hear: Then she’s so charming,
Age buds at sight of her, and swells to youth:
The holy priests gaze on her when she smiles;
And with heaved hands, forgetting gravity,
They bless her wanton eyes: Even I, who hate her,
With a malignant joy behold such beauty:
And, while I curse, desire it. Antony
Must needs have some remains of passion still,
Which may ferment into a worse relapse,
If now not fully cured. I know, this minute,
With Cæsar he’s endeavouring her peace.

Octav. You have prevailed:—But for a further purpose

[Walks off.

Vent. His guards appear.
Let me begin, and you shall second me.

Enter Antony.

Ant. Octavia, I was looking you, my love:
What, are your letters ready? I have given
My last instructions.

Octav. Mine, my lord, are written.

Ant. Ventidius.

[Drawing him aside.