Char.

Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the

soothsayer that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew this husband, which, you say, must charge his horns with garlands^{6 note}

Alex.
Soothsayer.

Sooth.
Your will?

Char.
Is this the man?—Is't you, sir, that know things?

Sooth.
In nature's infinite book of secrecy,
A little I can read.

Alex.
Show him your hand. Enter Enobarbus.

Eno.

Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough, Cleopatra's health to drink.

Char.

Good sir, give me good fortune.

Sooth.

I make not, but foresee.

Char.

Pray then, foresee me one.

Sooth.

You shall be yet far fairer than you are.

Char.

He means, in flesh.

Iras.

No, you shall paint when you are old.

Char.

Wrinkles forbid!

Alex.

Vex not his prescience; be attentive.

Char.

Hush!

Sooth.

You shall be more beloving, than beloved.

Char.

I had rather heat my liver^{7 note}

Alex.

Nay, hear him.

Char.

Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all: let me have a child at fifty^{8 note}, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage^{9 note}: find me to marry me with Octavius Cæsar, and companion me with my mistress.

Sooth.
You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.

Char.
O excellent! I love long life better than figs^{1 note}.

Sooth.
You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune
Than that which is to approach.

Char.

Then, belike, my children shall have no names^{2 note}

Sooth.
If every of your wishes had a womb,
And fertile every wish, a million^{3 note}

Char.
Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch^{4 note}.

Alex.

You think, none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

Char.

Nay, come, tell Iras hers.

Alex.

We'll know all our fortunes.

Eno.

Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be—drunk to bed.

Iras.

There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

Char.

Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Iras.

Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.

Char.

Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication^{5 note}

Sooth.

Your fortunes are alike.

Iras.

But how, but how? give me particulars.

Sooth.

I have said.

Iras.

Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?

Char.

Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it?

Iras.

Not in my husband's nose.

Char.

Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas,—come, his fortune^{6 note}

Ant.
The business she hath broached in the state,
Cannot endure my absence.

Eno.

And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant.
No more light answers. Let our officers
Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
The cause of our expedience^{3 note}

The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches^{5 note}

Which, like the courser's hair^{7 note}

Eno.
I shall do't. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo.
Where is he^{9 note}

Char.
I did not see him since.

Cleo.
See where he is, who's with him, what he does:
I did not send you^{1 note}

Char.
Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,
You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.

Cleo.
What should I do, I do not?

Char.
In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing.

Cleo.
Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him.

Char.
Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear;
In time we hate that which we often fear. Enter Antony.
But here comes Antony.

Cleo.
I am sick, and sullen.

Ant.
I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,—

Cleo.
Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall;
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature
Will not sustain it^{2 note}


.

Ant.
Now, my dearest queen,—

Cleo.
Pray you, stand further from me.

Ant.
What's the matter?

Cleo.
I know, by that same eye, there's some good news.
What says the married woman?—You may go;
'Would, she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say, 'tis I that keep you here,
I have no power upon you; hers you are.

Ant.
The gods best know,—

Cleo.
O, never was there queen
So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first,
I saw the treasons planted.

Ant.
Cleopatra,—

Cleo.
Why should I think, you can be mine, and true,
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods^{3 note}


,
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
Which break themselves in swearing!

Ant.
Most sweet queen,—

Cleo.
Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going.

But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: No going then;—
Eternity was in our lips, and eyes;
Bliss in our brows' bent^{4 note}
; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven^{5 note}

Ant.
How now, lady!

Cleo.
I would, I had thy inches; thou should'st know,
There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant.
Hear me, queen:
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services a while; but my full heart
Remains in use^{6 note}

And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going^{7 note}

Cleo.
Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
It does from childishness:—Can Fulvia die^{8 note}

Ant.
She's dead, my queen:
Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
The garboils she awak'd^{9 note}

Cleo.
O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water^{2 note}

Ant.
Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice: By the fire^{3 note}

,
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.

Cleo.
Cut my lace, Charmian, come;—
But let it be.—I am quickly ill, and well:
So Antony loves^{4 note}

Ant.
My precious queen, forbear;
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.

Cleo.
So Fulvia told me.
I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears
Belong to Egypt^{5 note}: Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Like perfect honour.

Ant.
You'll heat my blood: no more.

Cleo.
You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

Ant.
Now, by my sword* ^note,—

Cleo.
And target,—Still he mends;
But this is not the best: Look, pr'ythee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman^{6 note} does become
The carriage of his chafe.

Ant.
I'll leave you, lady.

Cleo.
Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I must part,—but that's not it:
Sir, you and I have lov'd,—but there's not it;
That you know well: Something it is I would,—
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten^{7 note}

Ant.
But that your royalty
Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself^{8 note}

Cleo.
'Tis sweating labour,
To bear such idleness so near the heart,
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me^{9 note}

Ant.
Let us go. Come;
Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here^{2 note}

SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's House. Enter Octavius Cæsar, Lepidus, and Attendants.

Cæs.
You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate
One great competitor^{3 note}

Lep.
I must not think, there are
Evils enough† ^note to darken all his goodness:

His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,
More firy by night's blackness^{5 note}

Cæs.
You are too indulgent: Let us grant, it is not
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;

To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes him,
(As his composure must be rare indeed,
Whom these things cannot blemish^{7 note}

So great weight in his lightness^{9 note}. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
Call on him for't^{1 note}: but, to confound such time^{2 note},
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state, and ours,—'tis to be chid
As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge^{3 note}

Lep.
Here's more news.

Mess.
Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,
Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar^{4 note}: to the ports
The discontents repair^{5 note}

, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Cæs.
I should have known no less:—
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were;
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth love,
Comes dear'd, by being lack'd^{6 note}

Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself^{7 note} with motion^{8 note}

Mess.
Cæsar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them; which they ear^{9 note}

With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads
They make in Italy; the borders maritime
Lack blood to think on't^{1 note}, and flush youth^{2 note}
revolt:
No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon
Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more,
Than could his war resisted.

Cæs.
Antony,
Leave thy lascivious wassals^{3 note}

It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: And all this
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep.
'Tis pity of him.

Cæs.
Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome: 'Tis time we twain^{6 note}

Lep.
To-morrow, Cæsar,
I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able,
To 'front this present time.

Cæs.
Till which encounter,
It is my business too. Farewell.

Lep.
Farewell, my lord: What you shall know mean time
Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be partaker.

Cæs.
Doubt not, sir;
I knew it for my bond^{8 note}. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Cleo.
Charmian,—

Char.
Madam.

Cleo.
Ha, ha!—
Give me to drink mandragora^{9 note}

Char.
Why, madam?

Cleo.
That I might sleep out this great gap of time,
My Antony is away.

Char.
You think of him too much.

Cleo.
O, 'tis treason^{1 note}
!

Char.
Madam, I trust, not so.

Cleo.
Thou, eunuch! Mardian!

Mar.
What's your highness' pleasure?

Cleo.
Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure
In aught an eunuch has: 'Tis well for thee,
That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

Mar.
Yes, gracious madam.

Cleo.
Indeed?

Mar.
Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing
But what in deed is honest to be done:
Yet have I fierce affections, and think,
What Venus did with Mars.

Cleo.
O Charmian,
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet of men^{2 note}

Or murmuring, Where's my serpent of old Nile?
For so he calls me; Now I feed myself
With most delicious poison^{3 note}
:—Think on me,
That am with Phœbus' amorous pinches black,
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar^{4 note}

Alex.
Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

Cleo.
How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With his tinct gilded thee^{6 note}

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

Alex.
Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kiss'd,—the last of many doubled kisses,—
This orient pearl;—His speech sticks in my heart.

Cleo.
Mine ear must pluck it thence.

Alex.
Good friend, quoth he,
Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms; All the east,
Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed^{7 note}

Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb'd by him^{8 note}

Cleo.
What, was he sad, or merry?

Alex.
Like to the time o' the year between the extremes
Of hot and cold; he was nor sad, nor merry.

Cleo.
O well-divided disposition!—Note him,
Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him:
He was not sad; for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his: he was not merry;
Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy; but between both:
O heavenly mingle!—Be'st thou sad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes;

So does it no man else.—Met'st thou my posts?

Alex.
Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Why do you send so thick^{9 note}

Cleo.
Who's born that day
When I forget to send to Antony,
Shall die a beggar.—Ink and paper, Charmian.—
Welcome, my good Alexas.—Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Cæsar so?

Char.
O that brave Cæsar!

Cleo.
Be chok'd with such another emphasis!
Say, the brave Antony.

Char.
The valiant Cæsar!

Cleo.
By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Cæsar paragon again
My man of men.

Char.
By your most gracious pardon,
I sing but after you.

Cleo.
My sallad days;
When I was green in judgment:—Cold in blood,
To say, as I said then^{1 note}

ACT II. SCENE I. Messina. A Room in Pompey's House. Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas^{3 note}

Pom.
If the great gods be just, they shall assist
The deeds of justest men.

Mene.
Know, worthy Pompey,
That what they do delay, they not deny.

Pom.
Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays
The thing we sue for^{4 note}
.

Mene.
We, ignorant of ourselves,
Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good; so find we profit,
By losing of our prayers.

Pom.
I shall do well:
The people love me, and the sea is mine;
My power's a crescent^{5 note}

Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony
In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make
No wars without doors: Cæsar gets money, where
He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,
Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,
Nor either cares for him.

Men.
Cæsar and Lepidus
Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry.

Pom.
Where have you this? 'tis false.

Men.
From Silvius, sir.

Pom.
He dreams; I know, they are in Rome together,
Looking for Antony: But all the charms^{6 note} of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip^{7 note}

Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicúrean cooks,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,
Even till a Lethe'd dulness^{8 note}

Enter Varrius.

Var.
This is most certain that I shall deliver:
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
Expected; since he went from Egypt, 'tis
A space for further travel^{9 note}
.

Pom.
I could have given^{1 note}

less matter
A better ear.—Menas, I did not think,
This amorous surfeiter would have don'd his helm^{2 note}


For such a petty war: his soldiership
Is twice the other twain: But let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow^{3 note} pluck
The ne'er lust-wearied Antony.

Men.
I cannot hope^{4 note}

Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together:
His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Cæsar;
His brother warr'd upon him^{5 note}

; although, I think,
Not mov'd by Antony.

Pom.
I know not, Menas,
How lesser enmities may give way to greater.
Were't not that we stand up against them all,
'Twere pregnant they should square^{6 note}

SCENE II. Rome. A Room in the House of Lepidus. Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus.

Lep.
Good Enorbarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,
And shall become you well, to entreat your captain
To soft and gentle speech.

Eno.
I shall entreat him
To answer like himself: if Cæsar move him,
Let Antony look over Cæsar's head,
And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,
I would not shave't to-day^{9 note}

Lep.
'Tis not a time
For private stomaching.

Eno.
Every time

Serves for the matter that is then born in it.

Lep.
But small to greater matters must give way.

Eno.
Not if the small come first.

Lep.
Your speech is passion:
But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes
The noble Antony. Enter Antony and Ventidius.

Eno.
And yonder, Cæsar. Enter Cæsar, Mecænas, and Agrippa.

Ant.
If we compose well here^{1 note}

Cæs.
I do not know,
Mecænas; ask Agrippa.

Lep.
Noble friends,
That which combin'd us was most great, and let not
A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
May it be gently heard: When we debate
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
Murder in healing wounds: Then, noble partners,
(The rather, for I earnestly beseech,)
Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
Nor curstness grow to the matter^{2 note}.

Ant.
'Tis spoken well:
Were we before our armies, and to fight,
I should do thus.

Cæs.
Welcome to Rome.

Ant.
Thank you.

Cæs.
Sit.

Ant.
Sit, sir^{3 note}

Cæs.
Nay,
Then—

Ant.
I learn, you take things ill, which are not so;
Or, being, concern you not.

Cæs.
I must be laugh'd at,
If, or for nothing, or a little, I
Should say myself offended; and with you
Chiefly i' the world: more laugh'd at, that I should
Once name you derogately, when to sound your name
It not concern'd me.

Ant.
My being in Egypt, Cæsar,
What was't to you?

Cæs.
No more than my residing here at Rome
Might be to you in Egypt: Yet, if you there
Did practise on my state^{4 note}


, your being in Egypt
Might be my question^{5 note}
.

Ant.
How intend you, practis'd?

Cæs.
You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent,
By what did here befal me. Your wife, and brother,
Made wars upon me; and their contestation
Was theme for you, you were the word of war^{6 note}

Ant.
You do mistake your business; my brother never

Did urge me in his act^{7 note}
: I did enquire it;
And have my learning from some true reports^{8 note}
,
That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather
Discredit my authority with yours;
And make the wars alike against my stomach,
Having alike your cause^{9 note}

As matter whole you have not to make it with^{1 note}

Cæs.
You praise yourself
By laying defects of judgment to me; but
You patch'd up your excuses.

Ant.
Not so, not so;
I know you could not lack, I am certain on't,
Very necessity of this thought, that I,
Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
Could not with graceful eyes^{2 note} attend those wars
Which 'fronted^{3 note}

The third o' the world is yours; which with a snaffle
You may pace easy, but not such a wife.

Eno.

'Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to wars with the women!

Ant.
So much uncurbable, her garboils, Cæsar,
Made out of her impatience, (which not wanted
Shrewdness of policy too,) I grieving grant,
Did you too much disquiet: for that, you must
But say, I could not help it.

Cæs.
I wrote to you,
When rioting in Alexandria; you
Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts
Did gibe my missive out of audience.

Ant.
Sir,
He fell upon me, ere admitted; then
Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want
Of what I was i' the morning: but, next day,
I told him of myself^{5 note}; which was as much

As to have ask'd him pardon: Let this fellow
Be nothing of our strife; if we contend,
Out of our question wipe him.

Cæs.
You have broken
The article of your oath; which you shall never
Have tongue to charge me with.

Lep.
Soft, Cæsar.

Ant.
No, Lepidus, let him speak;
The honour's sacred^{6 note}

Cæs.
To lend me arms, and aid, when I requir'd them;
The which you both denied.

Ant.
Neglected, rather;
And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up
From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may,
I'll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty
Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power
Work without it^{7 note}
: Truth is, that Fulvia,
To have me out of Egypt, made wars here;
For which myself, the ignorant motive, do
So far ask pardon, as befits mine honour
To stoop in such a case.

Lep.
'Tis noble spoken^{8 note}

Mec.
If it might please you, to enforce no further
The griefs^{9 note} between ye: to forget them quite,
Were to remember that the present need
Speaks to atone you^{1 note}.

Lep.
Worthily spoken, Mecænas.

Eno.

Or, if you borrow one another's love for the instant, you may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to wrangle in, when you have nothing else to do.

Ant.

Thou art a soldier only; speak no more.

Eno.

That truth should be silent^{2 note}, I had almost forgot.

Ant.
You wrong this presence, therefore speak no more.

Eno.
Go to then; your considerate stone^{3 note}

Cæs.
I do not much dislike the matter, but
The manner of his speech^{4 note}
: for it cannot be,
We shall remain in friendship, our conditions
So differing in their acts. Yet, if I knew
What hoop should hold us staunch^{5 note}
, from edge to edge
O' the world I would pursue it.

Agr.
Give me leave, Cæsar,—

Cæs.
Speak, Agrippa.

Agr.
Thou hast a sister by the mother's side,
Admir'd Octavia: great Mark Antony
Is now a widower.

Cæs.
Say not so, Agrippa^{6 note};
If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
Were well deserv'd^{7 note}

Ant.
I am not married, Cæsar: let me hear
Agrippa further speak.

Agr.
To hold you in perpetual amity,
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an unslipping knot, take Antony
Octavia to his wife: whose beauty claims
No worse a husband than the best of men;
Whose virtue, and whose general graces, speak
That which none else can utter. By this marriage,
All little jealousies, which now seem great,
And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
Would then be nothing: truths would be tales^{8 note},
Where now half tales be truths: her love to both,
Would, each to other, and all loves to both,
Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke;
For 'tis a studied, not a present thought,
By duty ruminated.

Ant.
Will Cæsar speak?

Cæs.
Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd
With what is spoke already^{9 note}.

Ant.
What power is in Agrippa,
If I would say, Agrippa, be it so,
To make this good?

Cæs.
The power of Cæsar, and
His power unto Octavia.

Ant.
May I never
To this good purpose, that so fairly shows,
Dream of impediment!—Let me have thy hand:
Further this act of grace; and, from this hour,
The heart of brothers govern in our loves,
And sway our great designs!

Cæs.
There is my hand.
A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother
Did ever love so dearly: Let her live
To join our kingdoms, and our hearts; and never
Fly off our loves again!

Lep.
Happily, amen!

Ant.
I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey;
For he hath laid strange courtesies, and great,
Of late upon me: I must thank him only,
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report^{1 note};
At heel of that, defy him.

Lep.
Time calls upon us:
Of us^{2 note} must Pompey presently be sought,
Or else he seeks out us.

Ant.
Where^{3 note} lies he?

Cæs.
About the Mount Misenum.

Ant.
What's his strength
By land?

Cæs.
Great, and increasing: but by sea
He is an absolute master.

Ant.
So is the fame.
'Would, we had spoke together? Haste we for it:
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, despatch we
The business we have talk'd of.

Cæs.
With most gladness^{4 note}
;
And do invite you to my sister's view,
Whither straight I will lead you.

Ant.
Let us, Lepidus,
Not lack your company.

Lep.
Noble Antony,
Not sickness should detain me. [Flourish. Exeunt Cæsar, Antony, and Lepidus.

Mec.

Welcome from Egypt, sir.

Eno.

Half the heart of Cæsar, worthy Mecænas! —my honourable friend, Agrippa!—

Agr.

Good Enobarbus!

Mec.

We have cause to be glad, that matters are so well digested. You stay'd well by it in Egypt.

Eno.

Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and made the night light with drinking.

Mec.

Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there; is this true?

Eno.

This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved nothing.

Mec.

She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her^{5 note}.

Eno.

When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart, upon the river of Cydnus^{6 note}
.

Agr.

There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised well for her.

Eno.
I will tell you:
The barge she sat in^{7 note}



















, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water^{8 note}



: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that

The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were silver;
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water, which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue,)
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see^{9 note},
The fancy out-work nature: on each side her,
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid, did^{1 note}

Agr.
O, rare for Antony!

Eno.
Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended i' the eyes^{2 note}

And made their bends adornings^{3 note} 10Q0019: at the helm
A seeming Mermaid steers; the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame the office^{4 note}. From the barge
A strange invisible pérfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthron'd i' the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone^{5 note}

to gaze on Cleopatra too,
And made a gap in nature.

Agr.
Rare Egyptian!

Eno.
Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
Invited her to supper: she replied,
It should be better, he became her guest;
Which she entreated: Our courteous Antony,
Whom ne'er the word of No woman heard speak,
Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast;
And, for his ordinary, pays his heart,
For what his eyes eat only^{6 note}
.

Agr.
Royal wench!
She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed;
He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.

Eno.
I saw her once
Hop forty paces through the publick street:
And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
That she did make defect, perfection,
And, breathless, power breathe forth.

Mec.
Now Antony must leave her utterly.

Eno.
Never; he will not;
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety^{7 note}

Mec.
If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
The heart of Antony, Octavia is
A blessed lottery to him^{3 note}

Agr.
Let us go.—
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest,
Whilst you abide here.

Eno.
Humbly, sir, I thank you. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The Same. A Room in Cæsar's House. Enter Cæsar, Antony, Octavia between them; Attendants and a Soothsayer.

Ant.
The world, and my great office, will sometimes
Divide me from your bosom.

Octa.
All which time
Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers^{4 note}

Ant.
Good night, sir.—My Octavia,
Read not my blemishes in the world's report:
I have not kept my square; but that to come
Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear lady.—
Good night, sir^{5 note}

Cæs.
Good night. [Exeunt Cæsar and Octavia.

Ant.
Now, sirrah! you do wish yourself in Egypt?

Sooth.
'Would I had never come from thence, nor you
Thither^{6 note}
!

Ant.
If you can, your reason?

Sooth.
I see it in
My motion, have it not in my tongue^{7 note}

Ant.
Say to me,
Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Cæsar's, or mine?

Sooth.
Cæsar's.
Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:
Thy dæmon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,

Where Cæsar's is not; but, near him, thy angel
Becomes a Fear^{9 note}

Ant.
Speak this no more.

Sooth.
To none but thee; no more, but when to thee.
If thou dost play with him at any game,

Thou art sure to lose; and, of that natural luck,
He beats thee 'gainst the odds; thy lustre thickens^{1 note}
,
When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit
Is all afraid to govern thee near him;
But, he away^{2 note}, tis noble.

Ant.
Get thee gone:
Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him:— [Exit Soothsayer.
He shall to Parthia.—Be it art, or hap,
He hath spoken true: The very dice obey him;
And, in our sports, my better cunning faints
Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds:
His cocks do win the battle still of mine,
When it is all to nought; and his quails^{3 note}

And though I make this marriage for my peace, Enter Ventidius.
I' the east my pleasure lies:—O, come, Ventidius,
You must to Parthia; your commission's ready:
Follow me, and receive it. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Same. A Street. Enter Lepidus, Mecænas, and Agrippa.

Lep.
Trouble yourselves no further: pray you, hasten
Your generals after.

Agr.
Sir, Mark Antony
Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.

Lep.
Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress,
Which will become you both, farewell.

Mec.
We shall,
As I conceive the journey, be at Mount^{5 note}

Lep.
Your way is shorter,
My purposes do draw me much about;
You'll win two days upon me.

Mec. Agr.
Sir, good success!

Lep.
Farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo.
Give me some musick; musick, moody food^{6 note}

Attend.
The musick, ho! Enter Mardian.

Cleo.
Let it alone; let us to billiards^{7 note}:
Come, Charmian.

Char.
My arm is sore, best play with Mardian.

Cleo.
As well a woman with an eunuch play'd,
As with a woman;—Come, you'll play with me, sir?

Mar.
As well as I can, madam.

Cleo.
And when good will is show'd, though it come too short,
The actor may plead pardon^{8 note}


. I'll none now:—
Give me mine angle,—We'll to the river: there,

My musick playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'd fishes^{9 note}

Char.
'Twas merry, when
You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt-fish^{1 note} on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.

Cleo.
That time!—O times!—
I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
I laugh'd him into patience: and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
I wore his sword Philippan^{2 note}

That long time have been barren.

Mess.
Madam, madam,—

Cleo.
Antony's dead?—
If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress:
But well and free^{4 note}



,
If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that kings
Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

Mess.
First, madam, he is well.

Cleo.
Why, there's more gold.
But, sirrah, mark, we use

To say, the dead are well: bring it to that,
The gold I give thee, will I melt, and pour
Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Mess.
Good madam, hear me.

Cleo.
Well, go to, I will;
But there's no goodness in thy face: If Antony
Be free, and healthful,—why so tart a favour
To trumpet such good tidings^{5 note}

Mess.
Will't please you hear me?

Cleo.
I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak'st:
Yet, if thou say, Antony lives, is well,
Or friends with Cæsar^{7 note}

I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
Rich pearls upon thee^{8 note}

Mess.
Madam, he's well.

Cleo.
Well said.

Mess.
And friends with Cæsar.

Cleo.
Thou'rt an honest man.

Mess.
Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever.

Cleo.
Make thee a fortune from me.

Mess.
But yet, madam,—

Cleo.
I do not like but yet, it does allay
The good precedence^{9 note}
; fye upon but yet:
But yet is as a gaoler to bring forth
Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,
Pour out the pack^{1 note} of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together: He's friends with Cæsar;
In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free.

Mess.
Free, madam! no; I made no such report:
He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo.
For what good turn?

Mess.
For the best turn i' the bed.

Cleo.
I am pale, Charmian.

Mess.
Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleo.
The most infectious pestilence upon thee! [Strikes him down.

Mess.
Good madam, patience.

Cleo.
What say you?—Hence, [Strikes him again.
Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head; [She hales him up and down.
Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in ling'ring pickle.

Mess.
Gracious madam,
I, that do bring the news, made not the match.

Cleo.
Say, 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadst
Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg

Mess.
He's married, madam.

Cleo.
Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. [Draws a Dagger^{2 note}

Mess.
Nay, then I'll run:—
What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. [Exit.

Char.
Good madam, keep yourself within yourself^{3 note}
;
The man is innocent.

Cleo.
Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.—
Melt Egypt into Nile^{4 note}
! and kindly creatures
Turn all to serpents!—Call the slave again;
Though I am mad, I will not bite him:—Call.

Char.
He is afeard to come.

Cleo.
I will not hurt him:—
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself^{5 note}

Mess.
I have done my duty.

Cleo.
Is he married?
I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
If thou again say, Yes.

Mess.
He is married, madam.

Cleo.
The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still?

Mess.
Should I lie, madam?

Cleo.
O, I would, thou didst;
So half my Egypt were submerg'd^{6 note}

Mess.
I crave your highness' pardon.

Cleo.
He is married?

Mess.
Take no offence, that I would not offend you:
To punish me for what you make me do,
Seems much unequal: He is married to Octavia.

Cleo.
O, that his fault should make a knave of thee,
That art not what thou'rt sure of^{8 note}

The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome,

Are all too dear for me; Lie they upon thy hand,
And be undone by 'em! [Exit Messenger.

Char.
Good your highness, patience.

Cleo.
In praising Antony, I have disprais'd Cæsar.

Char.
Many times, madam.

Cleo.
I am paid for't now.
Lead me from hence,
I faint; O Iras, Charmian,—'Tis no matter:—
Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
Report the feature of Octavia^{9 note}

Let him for ever go^{2 note}:—Let him not—Charmian,
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
The other way he's* ^note a Mars^{3 note}