Agr.
What, are the brothers parted?

Eno.
They have dispatch'd with Pompey, he is gone;
The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps
To part from Rome: Cæsar is sad; and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled
With the green sickness,

Agr.
'Tis a noble Lepidus.

Eno.
A very fine one: O, how he loves Cæsar!

Agr.
Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!

Eno.
Cæsar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men.

Agr.
What's Antony? The god of Jupiter.

Eno.
Spake you of Cæsar? How? the nonpareil!

Agr.
O Antony! O thou ^{2 note}Arabian bird!

Eno.
Would you praise Cæsar, say,—Cæsar;—go no further.

Agr.
Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises.

Eno.
But he loves Cæsar best;—Yet he loves Antony:
Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, ^{3 note}

Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho, his love
To Antony. But as for Cæsar, kneel,
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.

Agr.
Both he loves.

Eno.
They are his shards, and he their beetle^{4 note}

Agr.
Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewel. Enter Cæsar, Antony, Lepidus, and Octavia.

Ant.
No further, sir.

Cæs.
You take from me a great part of myself^{5 note}
;
Use me well in it.—Sister, prove such a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and ^{6 note}as my furthest band
Shall pass on thy approof.—Most noble Antony,
Let not the piece of virtue, which is set
Betwixt us, as the cement of our love,
To keep it builded, be the ram, to batter
The fortress of it: for better might we
Have lov'd without this mean, if on both parts
This be not cherish'd.

Ant.
Make me not offended
In your distrust.

Cæs.
I have said.

Ant.
You shall not find,
Though you be therein curious^{7 note}
, the least cause
For what you seem to fear: So, the gods keep you,
And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends!
We will here part.

Cæs.
Farewel, my dearest sister, fare thee well;
^{8 note}

Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well.

Octa.
My noble brother!—

Ant.
The April's in her eyes; It is love's spring,
And these the showers to bring it on:—Be cheerful.

Octa.
Sir, look well to my husband's house; and—

Cæs.
What, Octavia?

Octa.
I'll tell you in your ear.

Ant.
Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue: the swan's down feather,
That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.

Eno.
Will Cæsar weep?

Agr.
He has a cloud in his face.

Eno.
He were the worse for that were he a horse^{9 note};
So is he, being a man.

Agr.
Why, Enobarbus?
When Antony found Julius Cæsar dead,
He cried almost to roaring: and he wept,
When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.

Eno.
That year, indeed, he was troubled with a rheum;
What willingly he did confound, he wail'd:
^{1 note}

Cæs.
No, sweet Octavia,
You shall hear from me still; the time shall not
Out-go my thinking on you.

Ant.
Come, sir, come;
I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love:
Look, here I have you; thus I let you go,
And give you to the gods.

Cæs.
Adieu; be happy!

Lep.
Let all the number of the stars give light
To thy fair way!

Cæs.
Farewel, farewel! [Kisses Octavia.

Ant.
Farewel! [Trumpets sound. Exeunt.

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