Cleo.
Charmian! ^note

Char.
Madam?

Cleo.
Ha, ha!
Give me to drink mandragora ^note. ^note

Char.
Why, madam?

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

Char.
You think of him too much.

Cleo.
O, 'tis treason! ^note

Char.
Madam, I trust, not so.

Cleo.
Thou, eunuch ^note 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 ^note, thy freer thoughts
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

Mar.
Yes, gracious madam.

Cleo.
Indeed!

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

Cleo.
O Charmian ^note,
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 movest?
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet ^note of men ^note. He's speaking now,
Or murmuring ‘Where's my serpent of old Nile?’
For so he calls me: now I feed myself
With most delicious poison. Think ^note on me,
That am with Phœbus' amorous pinches black
And wrinkled deep in time? ^{note note} Broad-fronted ^note Cæsar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was

A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect and die
With looking on his life. Enter Alexas. ^note

Alex.
Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

Cleo.
How much unlike art thou ^note Mark Antony!
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With his tinct gilded thee.
How goes it with ^note my brave Mark Antony?

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

Cleo.
Mine ear must pluck it thence.

Alex.
‘Good friend ^note,’ quoth he,
‘Say, the firm ^note Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece ^note
Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the east,
Say thou, shall call her mistress.’ So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt ^note steed,
Who ^note neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly ^note dumb'd ^note by him.

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 ^note nor merry. ^note

Cleo.
O well divided disposition! Note him, ^note
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 ^note else. Met'st thou my posts?

Alex.
Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Why do you send so thick?

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? ^note

Char.
O that brave Cæsar!

Cleo.
Be choked 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 salad ^note days,
When I was green in judgement: cold ^note in blood,
To say as I said then! But come, away;
Get me ink and paper:
He shall have every day a several greeting ^note,
Or I'll unpeople Egypt. ^note [Exeunt.

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