Thy.
Nay, but this dotage of our general's
O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper;
And is become the bellows, and the fan,
To cool a gipsy's lust. Look, where they come: Flourish. Enter Antony, Cleopatra, and their Trains; Eunuchs fanning her.
Take but good note, and you shall see in him
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet's fool: behold, and see.

Cle.
If it be love indeed, tell me how much.

Ant.
There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

Cle.
I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd.

Ant.
Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth. Enter an Attendant.

Att.
News, my good lord, from Rome.

Ant.
—'T grates me:—The sum.

Cle.
Nay, hear them, Antony:
Fulvia, perchance, is angry; Or, who knows
If the scarce-bearded Cæsar have not sent
His powerful mandate to you, Do this, or this;
Take in that kingdom, and infranchise that;
Perform't, or else we damn thee.

Ant.
—How, my love!

Cle.
Perchance? nay, and most like:—
You must not stay here longer, your dismission
Is come from Cæsar; therefore hear it, Antony.—
Where's Fulvia's process?—Cæsar's, I would say?—Both?
Call in the messengers.—As I am Egypt's Queen,
Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Cæsar's homager: so thy cheek pays shame,
When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds.—The messengers.

Ant.
Let Rome in Tyber melt! and the wide arch
Of the rang'd empire ^note fall! Here † is my space;
Kingdoms are clay: Our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
Is, to do † thus; when such a mutual pair,
And such a twain can do't; in which, I bind,
On pain of punishment, the world to weet
We stand up peerless.

Cle.
—Excellent falshood!
Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?—
I seem the fool I am not; Antony

Will be himself.

Ant.
—But, stir'd by Cleopatra,—
Now, for the love of love, and his soft hours,
Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
Without some pleasure now: What sport to-night?

Cle.
Hear the embassadors.

Ant.
—Fie, wrangling Queen!
Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd!
No messenger, but thine; And all alone,
To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and note
The qualities of people. Come, my Queen;
Last night you did desire it: Speak not to us. [Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra, and Trains.

Dol.
Triumphant lady!—Fame, I see, is true.

Thy.
Too true: Since she first met Mark Antony
Upon the river Cydnus, he has been hers.

Dol.
There she appear'd indeed; or my reporter
Devis'd well for her.

Thy.
—I will tell you, sir.
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 them: the 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 lye
In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue)
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see

The fancy out-work nature; on each side her
Stood pretty dimpl'd boys, like smiling Cupids,
With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid, did.

Dol.
—O, rare for Antony!

Thy.
Her gentlewomen, like the Nereids,
So many mermaids, tended her i'the eyes,
And made their bends adornings: ^note at the helm
A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame the office. From the barge,
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs: The city cast
Her people out upon her: and Antony,
Enthron'd i'the market place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
And made a gap in nature.

Dol.
—Rare Egyptian!

Thy.
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 never the word, 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.

Dol.
—Royal wench!
She made great Julius lay his sword to bed;
He plough'd her, and she crop'd. Now Antony
Must leave her utterly.

Thy.
—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.

Dol.
—Well; I am sorry,
He too approves the common lyar, who
Thus speaks of him at Rome: But I will hope
Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy! [Exeunt severally.

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