&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Their preparation is to-day for sea:
&blquo;We please them not by land.

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;For both, my lord.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;I would, they'd fight i'the fire, or i'the air;
&blquo;We'd fight there too. But this it is, Our foot,
&blquo;Upon the hills adjoining to the city,
&blquo;Shall stay with us: order for sea is given;
&blquo;They have put forth the haven: hie we on,
&blquo;Where their appointment we may best discover,
&blquo;And look on their endeavour. [Exeunt. &blquo;Enter Cæsar, and his Forces, marching.

&blquo;Cæs.
&blquo;But being charg'd, we will be still by land,
&blquo;Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force
&blquo;Is forth to man his gallies. To the vales,
&blquo;And hold our best advantage. [Exeunt. &blquo;Re-enter Antony, and Scarus.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Yet they're not join'd: where yonder pine does stand,
&blquo;I shall discover all: I'll bring thee word
&blquo;Straight, how 'tis like to go. [Exit Antony.

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;Swallows have built
&blquo;In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers
&blquo;Say, they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,
&blquo;And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
&blquo;Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,
&blquo;His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear,
&blquo;Of what he has, and has not. [Shouts afar off. Re-enter Antony, hastily* ^note.

Ant.
All is lost;
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder
They cast their caps up, and carouse together
Like friends long lost.—Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou
Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart
Makes only wars on thee.—Bid them all fly;
For when I am reveng'd upon my charm,
I have done all; bid them all fly, be gone. [Exit Scarus.
On sun, thy up-rise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Cæsar; and this pine is bark'd,
That over-top'd them all. Betray'd I am:
(O this false soil of Egypt!) This grave charm,—
Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home;
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,—
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose† ^note,
Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss.—
What, Eros, Eros! Enter Cleopatra.
Ah, thou spell! Avant.

Cle.
Why is my lord enrag'd against his love?

Ant.
Vanish; or I shall give thee thy deserving,
And blemish Cæsar's triumph. Let him take thee,

And hoist thee up to the shouting Plébeians:
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shewn
For poor'st diminutives, for doits; and let
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails. [Exit Cle.] 'Tis well thou'rt gone,—
If it be well to live: but better 'twere,
Thou fell'st into my fury; for one death
Might have prevented many.—Eros, ho!—
The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me,
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:
Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o'the moon;
And with those hands that grasp'd the heaviest club
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die;
To the Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Under this plot: she dies for't.—Eros, ho! &blquo;[Exit.

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