Page:All for love- or, The world well lost. A tragedy as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal; and written in imitation of Shakespeare's stile. By John Dryden, servant to His Majesty (IA allforloveorworl00indryd).pdf/83

Rh Ant.Octavia, leave me: I am much disorder'd. Leave me, I say.

Octav.My Lord?

Ant.I bid you leave me.

Ven.Obey him, Madam: best withdraw a while, And see how this will work.

Octav.Wherein have I offended you, my Lord, That I am bid to leave you? Am I false, Or infamous? Am I a Cleopatra? Were I she, Base as she is, you would not bid me leave you; But hang upon my neck, take slight excuses, And fawn upon my falshood.

Ant.'Tis too much, Too much, Octavia; I am prest with sorrows Too heavy to be born; and you add more: I would retire, and recollect what's left Of Man within, to aid me.

Octav.You would mourn In private, for your Love, who has betray'd you; You did but half return to me: your kindness Linger'd behind with her. I hear, my Lord, You make Conditions for her, And would include her Treaty. Wondrous proofs Of love to me!

Ant.Are you my Friend, Ventidius? Or are you turn'd a Dollabella too, And let this Fury loose?

Ven.Oh, be advis'd, Sweet Madam, and retire.

Octav.Yes, I will go; but never to return. You shall no more be haunted with this Fury. My Lord, my Lord, love will not always last, When urg'd with long unkindness, and disdain; Take her again whom you prefer to me; She stays but to be call'd. Poor cozen'd Man! Let a feign'd parting give her back your heart, Which a feign'd love first got; for injur'd me, Tho' my just sense of wrongs forbid my stay, I