Men.

Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have made this treaty.—You and I have known, sir.

Eno.
Menas, I think.

Men.
The same, sir.

Eno.
We came hither to fight with you.

Men.
For my part, I am sorry it is turn'd to a drinking.
Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune.

Eno.
If he do, sure he cannot weep it back again.

Men.

You have said, sir. We look'd not for Mark Antony here; Pray you, is he marry'd to Cleopatra?

Eno.

Cæsar's sister is called Octavia.

Men.

True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus.

Eno.

But now she is the wife of Marcus Antonius.

Men.

Pray you, sir,—

Eno.

'Tis true.

Men.

Then is Cæsar, and he, for ever knit together.

Eno.

If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would not prophesy so.

Men.

I think, the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage, than the love of the parties.

Eno.

I think so too. But you shall find, the band, that seems to tie their friendship together, will be the very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still conversation.

Men.

Who would not have his wife so?

Eno.

Not he, that himself is not so; which is, Mark Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish again: then shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Cæsar; and, as I said before, that, which is the strength of their amity, shall prove the immediate author of their variance. Antony will use his affection where it is; he marry'd but his occasion here.

Men.

And thus it may be. Come, sir, we have healths for you.

Eno.

I shall take'em, sir: we have us'd our throats in Egypt.

Here they come: Some of their plants are ill-rooted already; the least wind i'the world will blow them down.

Men.
Lepidus is high-colour'd.

Ant.
Thus do they, sir, [to Cæs.] They take the flow
By certain scales i'the pyramid; they know,
By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth,
Or foizon, follow: The higher Nilus swells,
The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman

Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain,
And shortly comes to harvest.

Lep.

You've strange serpents there.

Ant.

Ay, Lepidus.

Lep.

Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of the sun: so is your crocodile.

Ant.

They are so.

Pom.

Sit,—and some wine:—A health to Lepidus.

Lep.

I am not so well as I should be; but I'll ne'er out.

Eno.

“Not 'till you have slept; I fear me, you'll be in 'till then.”

Lep.

Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies' pyramises are very goodly things; without contradiction, I have heard that.

Men.

“Pompey, a word.”

Pom.

—“Say in mine ear; What is't?”

Men.
“Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, captain,”
“And hear me speak a word.”

Pom.

“Forbear me 'till anon.”—This wine for Lepidus.

Lep.

What manner o'thing is your crocodile?

Ant.

It is shap'd, sir, like itself; and it is as broad as it hath breadth: it is just so high as it is, and moves with it's own organs: it lives by that which nourisheth it; and, the elements once out of it, it transmigrates.

Lep.

What colour is it of?

Ant.

Of it's own colour too.

Lep.

'Tis a strange serpent.

Ant.

'Tis so, And the tears of it are wet.

Cæs.

“Will this description satisfy him?”

Ant.

“With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a very epicure.”

Pom.
Go, hang, sir, hang: [to Men.] Tell me of that! Away:

Do as I bid you—Where's this cup I call'd for.

Men.
“If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me,”
“Rise from thy stool.rdquo;

Pom.
—I think, thou'rt mad. [rising, and steping aside] “The matter?”

Men.
“I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.”

Pom.
“Thou hast serv'd me with much faith: What's else to say?”—
Be jolly, lords.

Ant.
—These quicksands, Lepidus,
Keep off them, for you sink.

Men.
“Wilt thou be lord of all the world?”

Pom.
—“What say'st thou?”

Men.
“Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice.”

Pom.
“How should that be?”

Men.
—“But entertain it,”
“And, though thou think me poor, I am the man”
“Will give thee all the world.”

Pom.
—“Thou hast drunk well.”

Men.
“No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup.”
“Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove:”
“Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips,”
“Is thine, if thou wilt ha't.”

Pom.
—“Shew me which way.”

Men.
“These three world-sharers, these competitors,”
“Are in thy vessel: Let me cut the cable;”
“And, when we are put off, fall to their throats:”
“And then is thine.”

Pom.
—“Ah, this thou should'st have done,”
“And not have spoke of it! In me, 'tis villainy;”
“In thee, 't had been good service. Thou must know,”
“'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour;”
“Mine honour, it. Repent, that e'er thy tongue”
“Hath so betray'd thine act: Being done unknown,”

“I should have found it afterwards well done;”
“But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.”

Men.
“For this,” [looking contemptibly after him.
“I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more.”—
“Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd,”
“Shall never find it more.” [joins the Company.

Pom.
This health to Lepidus.

Ant.
—Bear him ashore.— [to an Attendant.
I'll pledge it for him, Pompey.

Eno.
Here's to thee, Menas.

Men.
—Enobarbus, welcome.

Pom.
Fill, 'till the cup be hid. [Lepidus born off.

Eno.
There's a strong fellow, Menas.

Men.
—Why?

Eno.
—He bears
The third part of the world, man; Seest not?

Men.
The third part then is drunk: 'Would it were all,
That it might go on wheels.

Eno.
Drink thou, encrease the reels.

Men.
Come.

Pom.
This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.

Ant.
It ripens towards it.—Strike the vessels, ho!
Here is to Cæsar.

Cæs.
—I could well forbear't;
It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain,
And it grows fouler.

Ant.
—Be a child o'the time.

Eno.
Ha, my brave Emperor! [to Ant.] Shall we dance now
Th' Egyptian bacchanals, and celebrate our drink?

Pom.
Let's ha't, good soldier. [they rise.

Ant.
—Come, let's all take hands;
'Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense

In soft and delicate lethe.

Eno.
—All take hands.—
Make battery to our ears with the loud musick:—
The while, I'll place you: Then the boy shall sing;
The holding every man shall bear, as loud
As his strong sides can volly. [Musick plays. Enobarbus places them hand in hand.
SONG.
Come, thou monarch of the vine,
plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyne:
in thy vats our cares be drown'd;
with thy grapes our hairs be crown'd;
cup us, 'till the world go round,
Bur. cup us, 'till the world go round.

Cæs.
What would you more?—Pompey, good night.—Good brother,
Let me request you, off: our graver business
Frowns at this levity.—Gentle lords, let's part;
You see, we have burnt our cheeks: strong Enobarbe
Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue
Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost
Antickt us all. What needs more words? Good night. [Exeunt Cæsar, and Train.

Pom.
I'll try you on the shore.

Ant.
—And shall, sir.—“I will to Egypt:”
“For though I have made this marriage for my peace,”
“I'the east my pleasure lies.”—Give us your hand.

Pom.
O, Antony, you have my father's house,—
But, what? we are friends again. [Exeunt Pompey, and Antony.

Eno.
—Take heed you fall not.—
Menas, I'll not on shore.

Men.
—No, to my cabin.—
These drums, these trumpets, flutes,—let Neptune hear
We bid aloud farewel to these great fellows:
Sound, and be hang'd, sound out. [Flourish of loud Musick.

Eno.
Ho, says 'a!—There's my cap.

Men.
—Ho, noble captain! Come. [Exeunt.

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