took him;
For nature meant him for an usurer:
He's fit indeed to buy, not conquer kingdoms.

_Vent._ Then, granting this,
What power was theirs, who wrought so hard a temper
To honourable terms?

_Ant._ It was my Dolabella, or some god.

_Dola._ Not I; nor yet Mecaenas, nor Agrippa:
They were your enemies; and I, a friend,
Too weak alone; yet 'twas a Roman's deed.

_Ant._ 'Twas like a Roman done: show me that man,
Who has preserved my life, my love, my honour;
Let me but see his face.

_Vent._ That task is mine,
And, heaven, thou know'st how pleasing. [_Exit_ VENT.

_Dola._ You'll remember
To whom you stand obliged?

_Ant._ When I forget it,
Be thou unkind, and that's my greatest curse.
My queen shall thank him too.

_Dola._ I fear she will not.

_Ant._ But she shall do it: The queen, my Dolabella!
Hast thou not still some grudgings of thy fever?

_Dola._ I would not see her lost.

_Ant._ When I forsake her,
Leave me, my better stars! for she has truth
Beyond her beauty. Caesar tempted her,
At no less price than kingdoms, to betray me;
But she resisted all: and yet thou chidest me
For loving her too well. Could I do so?

_Dola._ Yes; there's my reason.

_Re-enter_ VENTIDIUS, _with_ OCTAVIA, _leading_ ANTONY'S _two little
Daughters._

_Ant._ Where?--Octavia there! [_Starting back._

_Vent._ What, is she poison to you? a disease?
Look on her, view her well, and those she brings:
Are they all strangers to your eyes? has nature
No secret call, no whisper they are yours?

_Dola._ For shame, my lord, if not for love, receive them
With kinder eyes. If you confess a man,
Meet them, embrace them, bid them welcome to you.
Your arms should open, even without your knowledge,
To clasp them in; your feet should turn to wings,
To bear you to them; and your eyes dart out,
And aim a kiss, ere you could reach the lips.

_Ant._ I stood amazed, to think how they came hither.

_Vent._ I sent for them; I brought them in, unknown.
To Cleopatra's guards.

_Dola._ Yet, are you cold?

_Octav._ Thus long I have attended for my welcome;
Which, as a stranger, sure I might expect.
Who am I?

_Ant._ Caesar's sister.

_Octav._ That's unkind.
Had I been nothing more than Caesar's sister,
Know, I had still remained in Caesar's camp:
But your Octavia, your much injured wife,
Though banished from your bed, driven from your house,
In spite of Caesar's sister, still is yo