Cæs.
Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield,
Being so frustrate, tell him,
He mocks the pawses that he makes.

Dol.
Cæsar, I shall. Enter Decretas with the Sword of Antony.

Cæs.
Wherefore is that? and what art thou that dar'st
Appear thus to us?

Dec.
I am called Decretas,
Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy
Best to be serv'd; whilst he stood up, and spoke,
He was my Master, and I wore my Life
To spend upon his Haters, If thou please
To take me to thee; as I was to him,
I'll be to Cæsar: If thou pleasest not,
I yield thee up my Life.

Cæs.
What is't thou sayest?

Dec.
I say, Oh Cæsar, Antony is dead.

Cæs.
The breaking of so great a thing, should make
A greater Crack. The round World
Should have shook Lions into civil Streets,
And Citizens to their Dens. The Death of Antony
Is not a single Doom, in the name lay
A moiety of the World.

Dec.
He is dead, Cæsar,
Not by a publick Minister of Justice,
Nor by a hired Knife: but that self-hand
Which writ his honour in the Acts it did,
Hath with the Courage which the Heart did lend it,
Splitted the Heart. This is his Sword,
I robb'd his wound of it: Behold it stain'd
With his most noble Blood.

Cæs.
Look you, sad Friends,
The Gods rebuke me, but it is a Tiding
To wash the Eyes of Kings.

Dol.
And strange it is,
That Nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted Deeds.

Men.
His taints and honours weigh'd equal in him.

Dol.
A rarer Spirit never
Did steer humanity; but you Gods will give us
Some faults to make us Men. Cæsar is touch'd.

Men.
When such a spacious Mirror's set before him,
He needs must see himself.

Cæs.
Oh Antony!
I have followed thee to this, but we do launch
Diseases in our Bodies. I must perforce
Have shewn to thee such a declining Day,
Or look on thine; we could not stall together,
In the whole World. But yet let me lament
With tears as Soveraign as the Blood of Hearts,
That thou my Brother, my Competitor,
In top of all design, my Mate in Empire,
Friend and Companion in the front of War,
The Arm of mine own Body, and the Heart
Where mine his Thoughts did kindle; that our Stars
Unreconcileable, should divide our equalness to this.

Hear me, good Friends,
But I will tell you at some meeter Season—
The business of this Man looks out of him,
We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you? Enter an Ægyptian.

Ægypt.
A poor Ægyptian yet, the Queen my Mistress
Confin'd in all she has, her Monument,
Of thy intents, desires, instruction,
That she preparedly may frame her self
To th' way she's forc'd to.

Cæs.
Bid her have good Heart,
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourable, and how kindly we
Determine for her. For Cæsar cannot leave to be ungentle.

Ægypt.
So the Gods preserve thee. [Exit.

Cæs.
Come hither Proculeius, go and say
We purpose her no shame; give her what comforts
The quality of her Passion shall require;
Lest in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
She do defeat us: For her life in Rome
Would be eternal in our triumph. Go,
And with your speediest bring us what she says,
And how you find of her.

Pro.

Cæsar, I shall.

Cæs.

Gallus, go you along; where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius?

All.

Dolabella.

Cæs.
Let him alone; for I remember now
How he's employ'd: He shall in time be ready.
Go with me to my Tent, where you shall see
How hardly I was drawn into this War,
How calm and gentle I proceeded still
In all my Writings. Go with me, and see
What I can shew in this. [Exeunt.

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