Cle.
What shall we do, Enorbarbus?

Eno.
—Drink, and die.

Cle.
Is Antony, or we, in fault for this?

Eno.
Antony only, that would make his will
Lord of his reason. What though you fled
From that great face of war, whose several ranges
Frighted each other? why should he follow you?
The itch of his affection should not then
Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point,
When half to half the world oppos'd, he being
The meered question: 'Twas a shame no less
Than was his loss, to course your flying flags,
And leave his navy gazing.

Cle.
—Prythee, peace. Enter Antony, and Soothsayer.

Ant.
Is that his answer?

Soo.
—Ay, my lord.

Ant.
—The Queen
Shall then have courtesy, so she will yield
Us up.

Soo.
—My lord, he says so.

Ant.
—Let her know't.—
To the boy Cæsar send this grizl'd head,
And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
With principalities.

Cle.
—That head, my lord?

Ant.
To him again; Tell him, he wears the rose
Of youth upon him; from which, the world should note
Something particular: his coin, ships, legions,
May be a coward's; whose ministries would prevail
Under the service of a child, as soon
As i'the command of Cæsar: I dare him therefore
To lay his gay comparisons ^note apart,
And answer me declin'd, sword against sword,
Ourselves alone: I'll write it; follow me. [Exeunt Antony, and Soothsayer.

Eno.
“Yes, like enough; high-battl'd Cæsar will”
“Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to the shew”
“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.

Att.
—A messenger from Cæsar.

Cle.
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. [Exit Attendant.

Eno.
“Mine honesty, and I, begin to square.”
“The loyalty, well held to fools, does make”
“Our faith meer folly:—Yet, he, that can endure”
“To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord,”
“Does conquer him that did his master conquer,”
“And earns a place i'the story.” Enter Thyreus.

Cle.
—Cæsar's will?

Thy.
Hear it apart.

Cle.
—None but friends; say on boldly.

Thy.
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: Or, as you know,
Whose he is, we are; and that is, Cæsar's.

Thy.
—So.—
Thus then, thou most renown'd; Cæsar entreats,
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st
Further than he is Cæsar.

Cle.
—Go on: Right royal.

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

Cle.
—O!

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

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

Eno.
—“To be sure of that,”
“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.

Thy.
—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 should 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 shroud, the great,
The universal landlord.

Cle.
—What's your name?

Thy.
My name is Thyreus.

Cle.
—Most kind messenger,
Say to great Cæsar this, In deputation
I kiss his conquering hand: tell him, I am prompt
To lay my crown at his feet, and there to kneel:
Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear
The doom of Egypt.

Thy.
—'Tis your noblest course.
Wisdom and fortune combatting together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
My duty on your hand.

Cle.
—Your Cæsar's father oft, [giving her Hand.
When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in,
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd kisses.

Re-enter Enobarbus, with Antony.

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

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

Eno.
—“You will be whip'd.”

Ant.
Approach, there;—Ah, you kite!—Now, gods and devils!
Authority melts from me of late: when I cry'd ho!
Like boys unto a muss, Kings would start forth,
And cry, Your will?—Have you no ears? I am Enter Attendants.
Antony yet. Take hence this Jack, and whip him.

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

Ant.
—Moon and stars!
Whip him:—Wer't twenty of the greatest tributaries
That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them
So saucy with the hand of the † 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.

Thy.
Mark Antony,—

Ant.
—Tug him away: being whip'd,
Bring him again:—This Jack of Cæsar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.— [Exeunt Attendants, with Thyreus.
You were half blasted ere I knew you:—Ha!
Have I my pillow left unprest in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful race,
And by a jem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on feeders?

Cle.
—Good my lord,—

Ant.
You have been a bogler ever:—
But when we in our viciousness grow hard,
(O, misery on't!) the wise gods seel our eyes
In our own filth; drop our clear judgments; make us
Adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut
To our confusion.

Cle.
—O, is't 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.

Cle.
—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, Re-enter Attendants, with Thyreus.
And plighter of high hearts!—O, is he whip'd?

1. A.
Soundly, my lord.

Ant.
—Cry'd he? and beg'd he pardon?

1. A.
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 whip'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,
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 msot 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 enfranched ^note bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, to quit me: Urge it thou;
Hence with thy stripes, be gone. [Exit Thyreus.

Cle.
Have you done yet?

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

Cle.
—I must stay his time. [to her Women.

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

Cle.
—Not know me yet?

Ant.
Cold-hearted toward me?

Cle.
—Ah, dear, if I be so,
From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
And poison it in the source; and the first stone
Drop in my neck: as it determines, so
Dissolve my life! The next Cæsarion smite!
'Till, by degrees, the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
Lie graveless; 'till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have bury'd 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, and fleet, ^note threat'ning most sea-like.—
Where hast thou been, my heart?—Dost thou hear, lady?
If from the field I shall return once more
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
I and my sword will earn our chronicle;
There is hope in it yet.

Cle.
—That's my brave lord!

Ant.
I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd,
And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives
Of me for jests; but now, I'll set my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me. Come,
Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
All my sad captains, fill our bowls; once more
Let's mock the midnight bell.

Cle.
—It is my birth-day:
I had thought, to have held it poor; but, since my lord
Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant.
Well yet do well.

Cle.
Call all his noble captains to my lord.

Ant.
Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force
The wine peep through their scars.—Come on, my Queen;
There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight,
I'll make death love me; for I will contend
Even with his pestilent sithe. [Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra, Cha. Ira. and Att.

Eno.
Now he'll out-stare the lightning. To be furious,
Is, to be frighted out of fear: in that mood,
The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still,
A diminution in our captain's brain

Restores his heart: When valour preys on reason,
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
Some way to leave him. [Exit.

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