Ant.
Their preparation is to-day by sea:
We please them not by land.

Scar.
For both, my lord.

Ant.
I would, they'd fight i' the fire, or i' the air;
We'd fight there too. But this it is: our foot
Upon the hills adjoining to the city
Shall stay with us (order for sea is given,

They have put forth the haven^{3 note}
)
Where their appointment we may best discover,
And look on their endeavour. [Exeunt. Enter Cæsar, and his Forces, marching.

Cæs.
But being charg'd^{4 note}, we will be still by land,
Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force
Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales,
And hold our best advantage! [Exeunt. Re-enter Antony and Scarus.

Ant.
Yet they are not join'd. Where yond' pine does stand,
I shall discover all: I'll bring thee word
Straight, how 'tis like to go. [Exit.

Scar.
Swallows have built
In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the auguries^{5 note}
Say, they know not,—they cannot tell;—look grimly,
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
Is valiant, and dejected; and by starts
His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear,
Of what he has, and has not. [Alarum afar off, as at a Sea Fight.

Re-enter Antony.

Ant.
All is lost!
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder
They cast their caps up, and carouse together
Like friends long lost.—Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou
Hast sold me to this novice, and my heart
Makes only wars on thee.—Bid them all fly;
For when I am reveng'd upon my charm,
I have done all.—Bid them all fly; be gone. [Exit Scarus.
O sun! thy uprise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands.—All come to this?—The hearts
That spaniel'd me at heels^{6 note}, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Cæsar; and this pine is bark'd,
That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am.
O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,—
Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, 11Q1133 and call'd them home,
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose^{7 note}

,
Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss.—
What, Eros! Eros! Enter Cleopatra.
Ah, thou spell! Avaunt!

Cleo.
Why is my lord enrag'd against his love?

Ant.
Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving,
And blemish Cæsar's triumph. Let him take thee,
And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians:
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown
For poor'st diminutives, for doits^{8 note}; and let
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails. [Exit Cleo.
'Tis well thou'rt gone,
If it be well to live; but better 'twere
Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death
Might have prevented many.—Eros, ho!—
The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me,
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:
Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' the moon;
And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest club,
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die:
To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Under this plot; she dies for't.—Eros, ho! [Exit.

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