And answer me declin'd, sword against sword,
Ourselves alone: I'll write it; follow me. [Exeunt Antony and Amb.

Eno.
Yes, like enough, high-battled Cæsar will
Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to the shew^{8 note}


Against a sworder.—I see, men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them,
To suffer all alike. That he should dream,
Knowing all measures, the full Cæsar will
Answer his emptiness!—Cæsar, thou hast subdu'd
His judgment too. Enter an Attendant.

Attend.
A messenger from Cæsar.

Cleo.
What, no more ceremony?—See, my women!—
Against the blown rose may they stop their nose,
That kneel'd unto the buds.—Admit him, sir.

Eno.
Mine honesty, and I, begin to square. [Aside.
^{9 note}

Cleo.
Cæsar's will?

Thyr.
Hear it apart.

Cleo.
None but friends; say boldly.

Thyr.
So, haply, are they friends to Antony.

Eno.
He needs as many, sir, as Cæsar has;
Or needs not us. If Cæsar please, our master
Will leap to be his friend: For us, you know,
Whose he is, we are; and that is, Cæsar's.

Thyr.
So.—
Thus then, thou most renown'd; ^{1 note}

Cæsar intreats,
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st
Further than he is Cæsar.

Cleo.
Go on: Right royal.

Thyr.
He knows, that you embrace not Antony
As you did love, but as you fear'd him.

Cleo.
O!

Thyr.
The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
Not as deserv'd.

Cleo.
He is a god, and knows
What is most right: Mine honour was not yielded,
But conquer'd merely.

Eno.
To be sure of that, [Aside.
I will ask Antony.—Sir, sir, thou art so leaky,
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
Thy dearest quit thee. [Exit Enobarbus.

Thyr.
Shall I say to Cæsar
What you require of him? for he partly begs
To be desir'd to give. It much would please him,
That of his fortunes you would make a staff
To lean upon: but it would warm his spirits,
To hear from me you had left Antony,
And put yourself under his shrowd,
The universal landlord.

Cleo.
What's your name?

Thyr.
My name is Thyreus.

Cleo.
^{2 note}

Say to great Cæsar this, In disputation
I kiss his conquering hand: tell him, I am prompt
To lay my crown at his feet, and there to kneel:
^{3 note}

Thyr.
'Tis your noblest course.
Wisdom and fortune combating together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may shake it. ^{4 note}Give me grace to lay
My duty on your hand.

Cleo.
Your Cæsar's father oft,
When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in, 9Q0962
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd kisses. Re-enter Antony, and Enobarbus.

Ant.
Favours, by Jove that thunders!—
What art thou fellow?

Thyr.
One, that but performs
The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest
To have command obey'd.

Eno.
You will be whipp'd.

Ant.
Approach, there:—Ah, you kite!—Now, gods and devils!
Authority melts from me: Of late, when I cry'd, ho!
^{5 note}

Eno.
'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,
Than with an old one dying.

Ant.
Moon and stars!—
Whip him:—Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries
That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them
So saucy with the hand of she here, (What's her name,
Since she was Cleopatra?)—Whip him, fellows,
'Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy: Take him hence.

Thyr.
Mark Antony,—

Ant.
Tug him away: being whipp'd,
Bring him again:—This Jack of Cæsar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.— [Exeunt Att. with Thyreus.
You were half blasted ere I knew you:—Ha!
Have I my pillow left unprest in Rome,

Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abus'd
^{6 note}

Cleo.
Good my lord,—

Ant.
You have been a boggler ever:—
But when we in our viciousness grow hard,
(O misery on't!) the wise gods seel our eyes^{7 note}

Cleo.
O, is it come to this?

Ant.
I found you as a morsel, cold upon
Dead Cæsar's trencher: nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,
Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pick'd out:—For, I am sure,
Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.

Cleo.
Wherefore is this?

Ant.
To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And say, God quit you! be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly seal,
And plighter of high hearts!—O, that I were
Upon the hill of Basan, to out-roar

^{8 note}The horned herd! for I have savage cause;
And to proclaim it civilly, were like
And halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him.—Is he whipp'd? Re-enter Attendants, with Thyreus.

Attend.
Soundly, my lord.

Ant.
Cry'd he? and begg'd he pardon?

Attend.
He did ask favour.

Ant.
If that thy father live, let him repent
Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry
To follow Cæsar in his triumph, since
Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth,
The white hand of a lady fever thee,
Shake thou to look on't.—Get thee back to Cæsar,
Tell him thy entertainment: Look, thou say^{9 note},
He makes me angry with him: for he seems
Proud and disdainful; harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was: He makes me angry;
And at this time most easy 'tis to do't;
When my good stars, that were my former guides,
Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
Into the abism of hell. If he mislike

My speech, and what is done; tell him, he has
Hipparchus, my enfranchis'd bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, ^{1 note}to quit me: Urge it thou:
Hence with thy stripes, begone. [Exit Thyreus.

Cleo.
Have you done yet?

Ant.
Alack, our terrene moon
Is now eclips'd; and it portends alone
The fall of Antony!

Cleo.
I must stay his time.

Ant.
To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes
With one that ties his points?

Cleo.
Not know me yet?

Ant.
Cold-hearted toward me?

Cleo.
Ah, dear, if I be so,
From my cold heart let heaven ingender hail,
And poison it in the source; and the first stone
Drop in my neck: as it determines, so
Dissolve my life! ^{2 note}The next Cæsarion smite!
'Till, by degrees, the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Ægyptians all,
^{3 note}By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
Lie graveless; 'till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!

Ant.
I am satisfy'd:
Cæsar sits down in Alexandria; where
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too

Have knit again, ^{4 note}