Mec.
Welcome from Ægypt, 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't in Ægypt.

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 noting.

Mec.

She's a most triumphant Lady, if report be square to her.

Eno.

When she first met Mark Antony, she purs'd up his heart upon the river of Cydnus.

Agr.

There she appear'd, indeed; or my reporter devis'd well for her.

Eno.
I will tell you;
The Barge she sat in, like a burnish'd Throne,
Burnt on the water; the poop was beaten gold,
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that
The Winds were love-sick with 'em; th' 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,
^{1 note}O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see
The Fancy out-work Nature. On each side her,
Stood pretty dimpled Boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
^{2 note}
And what they undid, did.

Agr.
Oh, rare for Antony!

Eno.
Her Gentlewomen, like the Nereids,
So many Mermaids, ^{3 note}tended her i' th' eyes,
^{4 note}

Agr.
Rare Ægyptian!

Eno.
Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
Invited her to supper: she reply'd,
It should be better, he became her guest;
Which she intreated. 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.

Agr.
Royal Wench!

She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed;
He plough'd her, and she cropt.

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; other women cloy
The appetites they feed; but she makes hungry,
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things
Become themselves in her, that the holy Priests
Bless her, when she is riggish.

Mec.
If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
The heart of Antony, Octavia is
A blessed Lottery to him.

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

Eno.
Humbly, Sir, I thank you. [Exeunt. Enter Antony, Cæsar, Octavia between them.

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 in prayers
To them for you.

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 th' rule. Good night, dear Lady.

Octa.
Good night, Sir.

Cæs.
Good night. [Exeunt Cæsar and Octavia.

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