Eno.

Hush! here comes Antony.

Char.

Not he, the Queen.

Cleo.

Saw you my Lord?

Eno.

No, Lady.

Cleo.

Was he not here?

Char.

No, Madam.

Cleo.
He was dispos'd to mirth, but on the sudden
A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus,—

Eno.
Madam.

Cleo.
Seek him, and bring him hither; where's Alexas?

Alex.
Here at your service; my Lord approaches. Enter Antony with a Messenger, and Attendants.

Cleo.
We will not look upon him; go with us. [Exeunt.

Mes.
Fulvia thy Wife first came into the field.

Ant.
Against my brother Lucius?

Mes.
Ay, but soon that war had end, and the time's state
Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Cæsar:

Whose better issue in the war from Italy,
Upon the first encounter, drave them.

Ant.
Well, what worst?

Mes.
The nature of bad news infects the teller.

&wlquo;Ant.
&wlquo;When it concerns the fool or coward;&wrquo; on.—
Things, that are past, are done, with me. 'Tis thus;
Who tells me true, though in the tale lye death,
I hear, as if he flatter'd.

Mes.
Labienus (this is stiff news)
Hath, with his Parthian force, ^{2 note}extended Asia;
From Euphrates his conquering banner shook,
From Syria to Lydia, and Ionia;
Whilst—

Ant.
Antony, thou wouldst say—

Mes.
Oh, my Lord!

Ant.
Speak to me home, mince not the gen'ral tongue;
Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome.
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase, and taunt my faults
With such full licence, as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. Oh, then we bring forth weeds,
^{3 note}When our quick minds lye still; and our ill, told us,
Is as our earing; fare thee well a while.

Mes.
At your noble pleasure.

Ant.
From Sicyon, how the news? speak there.

Mes.
The Man from Sicyon, is there such an one? [Exit first Messenger.

Attend.
He stays upon your will.

Ant.
Let him appear;
These strong Ægyptian fetters I must break,
Or lose myself in dotage. What are you? Enter another Messenger, with a Letter.

2 Mes.
Fulvia thy wife is dead.

Ant.
Where died she?

2 Mes.
In Sicyon.
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears.

Ant.
Forbear me.— [Exit second Messenger.
There's a great spirit gone! thus did I desire it.
What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; ^{4 note}

the present pleasure,
By revolution lowring, does become
The opposite of itself; she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting Queen break off.
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch. How now, Enobarbus? Enter Enobarbus.

Eno.

What's your pleasure, Sir?

Ant.

I must with haste from hence.

Eno.

Why, then we kill all our women. We see, how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

Ant.

I must be gone.

Eno.

Under a compelling occasion, let women die. It were pity to cast them away for nothing; though between them and a great cause, they should be esteem'd nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this,

dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her; she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant.

She is cunning past man's thought.

Eno.

Alack, Sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears: they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report. This cannot be cunning in her: if it be, she makes a show'r of rain as well as Jove.

Ant.

'Would I had never seen her!

Eno.

Oh, Sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work, which, not to have been blest withal, would have discredited your travel.

Ant.

Fulvia is dead.

Eno.

Sir!

Ant.

Fulvia is dead.

Eno.

Fulvia?

Ant.

Dead.

Eno.

Why, Sir, give the Gods a thankful sacrifice: when it pleaseth their Deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shews to man the tailor of the earth; comforting him therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case were to be lamented: this grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat, and, indeed, the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.

Ant.
The business, she hath broached in the state,
Cannot endure my absence.

Eno.

And the business, you have broach'd here, cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your aboad.

Ant.
No more light answers: let our officers
Have notice what we purpose. I shall break

^{5 note}The cause of our expedience to the Queen,
And get her leave to part. For not alone
The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,
Do strongly speak t'us; but the letters too
Of many our contriving friends in Rome
Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius
Hath giv'n the dare to Cæsar, and commands
The Empire of the Sea. Our slipp'ry people,
(Whose love is never link'd to the deserver,
'Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw
Pompey the Great and all his Dignities
Upon his son; who high in name and pow'r,
Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
For the main Soldier; whose quality going on,
The sides o' th' world may danger. Much is breeding;
Which, like ^{6 note}the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,
To such whose place is under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.

Eno.
I'll do't. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras.

Cleo.
Where is he?

Char.
I did not see him since.

Cleo.
See, where he is, who's with him, what he does.—
I did not send you:—If you find him sad,
Say, I am dancing: if in mirth, report,
That I am sudden sick. Quick, and return.

Char.
Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,

You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.

Cleo.
What should I do, I do not?

Char.
In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing.

Cleo.
Thou teachest, like a fool: the way to lose him.

Char.
Tempt him not so, too far. I wish, forbear;
In time we hate That, which we often fear. Enter Antony.
But here comes Antony.

Cleo.
I'm sick, and sullen.

Ant.
I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose.

Cleo.
Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall;
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature [Seeming to faint.
Will not sustain it.

Ant.
Now, my dearest Queen,—

Cleo.
Pray you, stand farther from me.

Ant.
What's the matter?

Cleo.
I know, by that same eye, there's some good news.
What says the marry'd woman? you may go;
'Would, she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say, 'tis I that keep you here,
I have no pow'r upon you: hers you are.

Ant.
The Gods best know,—

Cleo.
O, never was there Queen
So mightily betray'd; yet at the first
I saw the treasons planted.

Ant.
Cleopatra,—

Cleo.
Why should I think, you can be mine, and true,
Though you with swearing shake the throned Gods,
Who have been false to Fulvia? riotous madness
To be entangled with these mouth-made vows,
Which break themselves in swearing!

Ant.
Most sweet Queen,—

Cleo.
Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,
But bid farewel, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words; no going, then;—
Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
Bliss in our Brows' bent, none our parts so poor,
But was ^{7 note}a race of heav'n. They are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Ant.
How, now, lady?

Cleo.
I would I had thy inches, thou should'st know,
There were a heart in Ægypt.

Ant.
Hear me, Queen;
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services a-while; but my full heart
Remains in Use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil swords; Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome.
Equality of two domestick Pow'rs
Breeds scrupulous faction; the hated, grown to strength,
Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's Honour, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'n
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change. My more particular,
And that which most with you should (a) ^note salve my going,
Is Fulvia's death.

Cleo.
Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?

Ant.
She's dead, my Queen.

Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
The garboyls she awak'd; at the last, best.
See, when, and where she died.

Cleo.
O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water? now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine shall be receiv'd.

Ant.
Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give th' advices. By the fire,
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war,
As thou affect'st.

Cleo.
Cut my lace, Charmian, come;
But let it be, ^{8 note}

Ant.
My precious Queen, forbear,
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.

Cleo.
So Fulvia told me.
I pry'thee, turn aside, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me and say, the tears
Belong to Ægypt. Good now, play one Scene
Of excellent dissembling, and let it look
Like perfect honour.

Ant.
You'll heat my blood; no more.

Cleo.
You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

Ant.
Now by my sword—

Cleo.
And target—Still he mends:
But this is not the best. Look, pry'thee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become

The carriage of his chafe.

Ant.
I'll leave you, lady.

Cleo.
Courteous lord, one word;
Sir, you and I must part; (but that's not it,)
Sir, you and I have lov'd; (but there's not it;
That you know well;) something it is, I would:
^{9 note}
Oh, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.

Ant.
^{1 note}




But that your royalty
Holds Idleness your subject, I should take you
For Idleness itself.

Cleo.
'Tis sweating labour
To bear such Idleness so near the heart,
As Cleopatra, this. But, Sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence,
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the Gods go with you! On your sword
Sit laurell'd victory, and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!

Ant.
Let us go: come,
Our separation so abides and flies,
That thou, residing here, goest yet with me,

And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Changes to Cæsar's Palace in Rome. Enter Octavius Cæsar reading a letter, Lepidus, and attendants.

Cæs.
You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate
One great competitor. From Alexandria
This is the news; he fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel; is not more manly
Than Cleopatra; nor the Queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he. Hardly gave audience,
Or did vouchsafe to think that he had partners.
You shall there find a man, who is the abstract
Of all faults all men follow.

Lep.
I must not think,
They're evils enough to darken all his goodness;
His faults in him seem as the spots of heav'n,
More fiery by night's blackness: hereditary,
Rather than purchast; what he cannot change,
Than what he chuses.

Cæs.
You're too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy,
To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit
And keep the turn of tipling with a slave,
To reel the streets at noon; and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat; say, this becomes him;
(As his composure must be rare, indeed,
Whom these things cannot blemish;) yet must Antony
No way excuse his foils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd

His vacancy with his voluptuousness;
Full surfeits, and the driness of his bones,
Call on him for't. But to confound such time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state, and ours; 'tis to be chid,
As we rate boys, who, (a) ^note immature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgment. Enter a Messenger.

Lep.
Here's more news.

Mes.
Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,
Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at Sea,
And, it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The Discontents repair, and mens' reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Cæs.
I should have known no less;
^{2 note}

Comes dear'd, by being lack'd. This common body,
Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lacquying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Mes.
Cæsar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them; which they ear and wound
With keels of every kind. Many hot inrodes
They make in Italy, the borders maritime
Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt:
No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon
Taken as seen: for Pompey's name strikes more,
Than could his war resisted.

Cæs.
Antony,
Leave thy lascivious wassails;—When thou once
Wert beaten from Mutina, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa Consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow, whom thou fought'st against
(Though daintily brought up) with patience more
Than Savages could suffer. Thou didst drink
The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle
Which beasts would cough at. Thy Palate then did deign
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge:
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st. On the Alps,
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on; and all this,
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now)
Was bore so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep.
'Tis pity of him.

Cæs.
Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome; time is it, that we twain
Did shew ourselves i'th' field; and to that end
Assemble we immediate council; Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.

Lep.
To morrow, Cæsar.
I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly,
Both what by sea and land I can be able,
To front this present time.

Cæs.
'Till which encounter,
It is my business too. Farewel.

Lep.
Farewel, my lord:
What you shall know mean time of stirs abroad,
I shall beseech you, let me be partaker.

Cæs.
Doubt it not, Sir; I knew it for my bond. Farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to the Palace in Alexandria. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Cleo.
Charmian,—

Char.
Madam?

Cleo.
Ha, ha—give me to drink Mandragoras.

Char.
Why, Madam?

Cleo.
That I might sleep out this great gap of time,
My Antony is away.

Char.
You think of him too much.

Cleo.
O, 'tis treason.—

Char.
Madam, I trust not so.

Cleo.
Thou, eunuch, Mardian,—

Mar.
What's your Highness' pleasure?

Cleo.
Not now to hear thee sing. I take no pleasure
In aught an eunuch has; 'tis well for thee,
That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
May not fly forth of Ægypt. Hast thou affections?

Mar.
Yes, gracious Madam.

Cleo.
Indeed?

Mar.
Not in deed, Madam; for I can do nothing
But what indeed is honest to be done:
Yet have I fierce affections, and think,

What Venus did with Mars.

Cleo.
Oh Charmian!
Where think'st thou he is now? stands he, or sits he?
Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
Oh happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse; for, wot'st thou, whom thou mov'st?
The demy Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet of man. &wlquo;He's speaking now,
&wlquo;Or murmuring, where's my serpent of old Nile?—
&wlquo;(For so he calls me;) Now I feed myself
&wlquo;With most delicious poison. Think on me,
&wlquo;That am with Phœbus' amorous pinches black,
&wlquo;And wrinkled deep in time. Broad-fronted Cæsar,&wrquo;
When thou wast here above the ground, I was
A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey
Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect, and die
With looking on his life. Enter Alexas.

Alex.
Sovereign of Ægypt, hail!

Cleo.
How much art thou unlike Mark Antony?
Yet coming from him, that great med'cine hath
With his tinct gilded thee.
How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

Alex.
Last thing he did, dear Queen,
He kist, the last of many doubled kisses,
This orient pearl.—His speech sticks in my heart.

Cleo.
Mine ear must pluck it thence.

Alex.
Good friend, quoth he,
Say, the firm Roman to great Ægypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, ^{3 note}

Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the east,
Say thou, shall call her mistress. So, he nodded;
^{4 note}
And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,
^{5 note}

Cleo.
What, was he sad or merry?

Alex.
Like to the time o'th' year, between th' extreams
Of hot and cold, he was nor sad, nor merry.

Cleo.
Oh well-divided disposition!
Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him;
He was not sad, for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his: He was not merry,
Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Ægypt with his joy; but between both.
Oh heav'nly mingle! be'st thou sad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes,
So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?

Alex.
Ay, Madam, twenty several messengers.
Why do you send so thick?

Cleo.
Who's born that day,
When I forget to send to Antony,
Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.
Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Cæsar so?

Char.
Oh, that brave Cæsar!

Cleo.
Be choak'd with such another emphasis!
Say, the brave Antony.

Cleo. ^note
The valiant Cæsar.

Cleo.
By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Cæsar paragon again
My man of men.

Char.
By your most gracious pardon,
I sing but after you.

Cleo.
^{6 note}

When I was green in judgment.—Cold in blood!
To say, as I said then,—But come away,
Get me ink and paper;
He shall have every day several greetings, or I'll unpeople Ægypt. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. SICILY. Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas.

Pompey.
If the great Gods be just, they shall assist
The deeds of justest men.

Mene.
Know, worthy Pompey,
That what they do delay, they not deny.

Pomp.
^{1 note}

Men.
We, ignorant of our selves,
Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good; so find we profit
By losing of our prayers.

Pom.
I shall do well:
The people love me, and the sea is mine;
My pow'r's (a) ^note a crescent, and my auguring hope
Says, it will come to th' full. Mark Antony
In Ægypt sits at dinner, and will make
No wars without doors. Cæsar gets mony, where
He loses hearts; Lepidus flatters Both,
Of Both is flatter'd; but he Neither loves,
Nor Either cares for him.

Mene.
Cæsar and Lepidus are in the field,
A mighty strength they carry.

Pom.
Where have you this? 'tis false.

Mene.
From Silvius, Sir.

Pom.
He dreams; I know, they are in Rome together,
Looking for Antony: but all the charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan lip!
Let witchcraft join with beauty; lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,
Even 'till a Lethe'd dulness—

Enter Varrius.
How now, Varrius?

Var.
This is most certain, that I shall deliver:
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
Expected. Since he went from Ægypt, 'tis
A space for farther travel.

Pom.
I could have given less matter
A better ear. Menas, I did not think,
This am'rous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm
For such a petty war; his soldiership
Is twice the other twain; but let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Ægypt's widow pluck
The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony.

Men.
I cannot hope,
Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together.
His wife, who's dead, did trespasses to Cæsar;
His brother warr'd upon him, although I think,
Not mov'd by Antony.

Pom.
I know not, Menas,
How lesser enmities may give way to greater.
Were't not that we stand up against them all,
'Twere pregnant, they should square between themselves;
For they have entertained cause enough
To draw their swords; but how the fear of us
May cement their divisions, and bind up
The petty difference, we yet not know.
Be't, as our Gods will hav't! it only stands
Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands.
Come, Menas. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Changes to Rome. Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus.

Lep.
Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,
And shall become you well, t'entreat your Captain
To soft and gentle speech.

Eno.
I shall entreat him
To answer, like himself; if Cæsar move him,
Let Antony look over Cæsar's head,
And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
^{2 note}
Were I the wearer of Antonio's beard,
I would not shav't to day.

Lep.
'Tis not a time for private stomaching.

Eno.
Every time
Serves for the matter that is then born in't.

Lep.
But small to greater matters must give way.

Eno.
Not, if the small come first.

Lep.
Your speech is passion;
But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes
The noble Antony. Enter Antony and Ventidius.

Eno.
And yonder, Cæsar. Enter Cæsar, Mecænas, and Agrippa.

Ant.
If we compose well here, to Parthia.—
Hark, Ventidius.

Cæs.
I do not know; Mecænas, ask Agrippa.

Lep.
Noble friends,

That which combin'd us was most great, and let not
A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
May it be gently heard. When we debate
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
Murther in healing wounds. Then, noble partners,
(The rather, for I earnestly beseech,)
Touch you the sowrest points with sweetest terms,
Nor curstness grow to th' matter.

Ant.
'Tis spoken well;
Were we before our armies, and to fight,
I should do thus. [Flourish.

Cæs.
Welcome to Rome.

Ant.
Thank you.

Cæs.
Sit.

Ant.
Sit, Sir.

Cæs.
Nay, then—

Ant.
I learn, you take things ill, which are not so:
Or, being, concern you not.

Cæs.
I must be laught at,
If, or for nothing, or a little, I
Should say myself offended, and with you
Chiefly i'th' world; More laught at, that I should
Once name you derogately, when to found
Your name it not concern'd me.

Ant.
My being in Ægypt, Cæsar, what was't to you?

Cæs.
No more than my residing here at Rome
Might be to you in Ægypt: yet, if you there
Did practise on my state, your being in Ægypt
Might be my question.

Ant.
How intend you, practis'd?

Cæs.
You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent,
By what did here befall. ^{3 note}

Made wars upon me; and their contestation
Was theam'd for you, you were the word of war.

Ant.
You do mistake your business: ^{4 note}
my brother never
Did urge me in his act: I did require it,
And have my learning from some true reports
That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather
Discredit my authority with yours,
And make the wars alike against my stomach,
Having alike your cause? of this, my letters
Before did satisfie you. If you'll patch a quarrel,
(As matter whole you've not to make it with,)
It must not be with this.

Cæs.
You praise yourself,
By laying defects of Judgment to me: but
You patch up your excuses.

Ant.
Not so, not so;
I know you could not lack, (I'm certain on't,)
Very necessity of this thought, that I,
Your Partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
Could not with grateful eyes attend those wars,
Which fronted mine own peace. As for my Wife,
I would, you had her spirit in such another;
The third o'th' world is yours, which with a snaffle
You may pace easie; but not such a Wife.

Eno.

'Would, we had all such Wives, that the Men might go to wars with the Women!

Ant.
So much uncurbable her garboiles, Cæsar,
Made out of her impatience, which not wanted
Shrewdness of policy too, I grieving grant,
Did you too much disquiet: For That you must
But say, I could not help it.

Cæs.
I wrote to you,
When rioting in Alexandria, you
Did pocket up my letters; and with taunts
Did gibe my missive out of audience.

Ant.
Sir, he fell on me, ere admitted: then
Three Kings I had newly feasted, and did want
Of what I was i'th' morning: but, next day,
^{5 note}I told him of my self; which was as much
As to have ask'd him pardon. Let this fellow
Be nothing of our strife: if we contend,
Out of our question wipe him.

Cæs.
You have broken
The article of your oath, which you shall never
Have tongue to charge me with.

Lep.
Soft, Cæsar.—

Ant.
No, Lepidus, let him speak;
^{6 note}The Honour's sacred which he talks on now,
Supposing, that I lackt it: but on, Cæsar,
The article of my oath—

Cæs.
To lend me arms and aid, when I requir'd them,
The which you both deny'd.

Ant.
Neglected, rather:
And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up
From mine own knowledge; as nearly as I may,
I'll play the Penitent to you. But mine honesty
Shall not make poor my Greatness; nor my Power
Work without it. Truth is, that Fulvia,
To have me out of Ægypt, made wars here;

For which my self, the ignorant motive, do
So far ask pardon, as befits mine Honour
To stoop in such a case.

Lep.
'Tis nobly spoken.

Mec.
If it might please you, to enforce no further
The griefs between ye: to forget them quite,
Were to remember, that the present Need
Speaks to atone you.

Lep.
Worthily spoken, Mecænas.

Eno.

Or, if you borrow one another's love for the instant, you may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to wrangle in, when you have nothing else to do.

Ant.
Thou art a Soldier, only speak no more.

Eno.
That truth should be silent, I had almost forgot.

Ant.
You wrong this Presence, therefore speak no more.

Eno.
Go to then: your considerate stone.—

Cæs.
^{7 note}

Agr.
Give me leave, Cæsar.

Cæs.
Speak, Agrippa.

Agr.
Thou hast a Sister by the Mother's side,
Admir'd Octavia! great Mark Antony
Is now a Widower.

Cæs.
Say not so, Agrippa;
If Cleopatra heard you, your Approof
Were well deserv'd of rashness.

Ant.
I am not married, Cæsar, let me hear
Agrippa further speak.

Agr.
To hold you in perpetual Amity,
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an unslipping knot, take Antony
Octavia to his Wife; whose Beauty claims
No worse a Husband than the best of men;
Whose Virtue, and whose general Graces speak
That which none else can utter. By this marriage,
All little jealousies, which now seem great,
And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
Would then be nothing. Truths would be but tales,
Where now half tales be truths: her love to both,
Would each to other, and all loves to both
Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke,
For 'tis a studied, not a present thought,
By duty ruminated.

Ant.
Will Cæsar speak?

Cæs.
Not 'till he hears, how Antony is touch'd
With what is spoke already.

Ant.
What Power is in Agrippa
(If I would say, “Agrippa, be it so,”)
To make this good?

Cæs.
The Power of Cæsar, and
His Power unto Octavia.

Ant.
May I never
To this good purpose, that so fairly shews,
Dream of impediment! let me have thy hand;
Further this act of grace: and, from this hour,
The heart of brothers govern in our loves,
And sway our great designs!

Cæs.
There is my hand:

A Sister I bequeath you, whom no Brother
Did ever love so dearly. Let her live
To join our kingdoms, and our Hearts, and never
Fly off our loves again!

Lep.
Happily, amen.

Ant.
I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey,
For he hath laid strange courtesies and great
Of late upon me. I must thank him only,
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;
At heel of that, defie him.

Lep.
Time calls upon's:
Of us must Pompey presently be sought,
Or else he seeks out us.

Ant.
Where lyes he?

Cæs.
About the Mount Misenum.

Ant.
What is his strength by Land?

Cæs.
Great, and increasing: but by Sea
He is an absolute Master.

Ant.
So is the fame.
'Would, we had spoke together! haste we for it;
Yet, ere we put our selves in arms, dispatch we
The business we have talk'd of.

Cæs.
With most gladness;
And do invite you to my Sister's view,
Whither straight I'll lead you.

Ant.
Let us, Lepidus, not lack your company.

Lep.
Noble Antony, not sickness should detain me. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE III. Manent Enobarbus, Agrippa, Mecænas.

Mec.

Welcome from Ægypt, Sir.

Eno.

Half the heart of Cæsar, worthy Mecænas! my honourable friend, Agrippa!—

Agr.

Good Enobarbus!

Mec.

We have cause to be glad, that matters are so well digested: you stay'd well by't in Ægypt.

Eno.

Ay, Sir, we did sleep day out of countenance, and made the night light with drinking.

Mec.

Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there;—Is this true?

Eno.

This was but as a flie by an eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting.

Mec.

She's a most triumphant Lady, if report be square to her.

Eno.

When she first met Mark Antony, she purs'd up his heart upon the river of Cydnus.

Agr.

There she appear'd, indeed; or my reporter devis'd well for her.

Eno.
I will tell you;
&wlquo;The Barge she sat in, like a burnish'd Throne,
&wlquo;Burnt on the water; the poop was beaten gold,
&wlquo;Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that
&wlquo;The Winds were love-sick with 'em; th' oars were silver,
&wlquo;Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
&wlquo;The water, which they beat, to follow faster,
&wlquo;As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
&wlquo;It beggar'd all description; she did lye
&wlquo;In her pavilion, cloth of gold, of tissue,
&wlquo;^{8 note}O'er picturing that Venus, where we see
&wlquo;The Fancy out-work Nature. On each side her,
&wlquo;Stood pretty dimpled Boys, like smiling Cupids,
&wlquo;With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
&wlquo;To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
&wlquo;And what they undid, did.&wrquo;

Agr.
Oh, rare for Antony!

&wlquo;Eno.
&wlquo;Here ^note Gentlewomen, like the Nereids,

&wlquo;So many Mermaids, tended her i' th' eyes,
&wlquo;^{9 note}

Agr.
Rare Ægyptian!

Eno.
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 ne'er the word of 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.

Agr.
Royal Wench!
She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed;

He plough'd her, and she cropt.

Eno.
I saw her once
Hop forty paces through the publick street:
And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted
That she did make defect, perfection,
And breathless power breathe forth.

Mec.
Now Antony must leave her utterly.

Eno.
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. For vilest things
Become themselves in her, that the holy Priests
Bless her, when she is riggish.

Mec.
^{2 note}

If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
The heart of Antony, Octavia is
A blest allott'ry to him.

Agr.
Let us go.
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest,
Whilst you abide here.

Eno.
Humbly, Sir, I thank you. [Exeunt. Enter Antony, Cæsar, Octavia between them.

Ant.
The world, and my great office, will sometimes
Divide me from your bosom.

Octa.
All which time,
Before the Gods my knee shall bow in prayers
To them for you.

Ant.
Good night, Sir. My Octavia,

Read not my blemishes in the world's report:
I have not kept my square, but That to come
Shall all be done by th' rule; good night, dear Lady.

Octa.
Good night, Sir.

Cæs.
Good night. [Exeunt Cæsar and Octavia. SCENE IV. Enter Soothsayer.

Ant.
Now, sirrah! do you wish your self in Ægypt?

Sooth.

'Would I had never come from thence, nor you thither!

Ant.
If you can, your reason?

Sooth.
^{2 note}I see it in my Motion, have it not in my
Tongue; but yet hie you to Ægypt again.

Ant.
Say to me, whose fortune shall rise higher,
Cæsar's or mine?

Sooth.
Cæsar's.—Therefore, oh Antony, stay not by his side.
Thy Dæmon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is
Noble, couragious, high, unmatchable,
Where Cæsar's is not. But, near him, thy angel
^{3 note}Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpower'd; and therefore
Make space enough between you.

Ant.
Speak this no more.

Sooth.
To none but thee; no more, but when to thee.—
If thou dost play with him at any game,
Thou'rt sure to lose: and, of that natural luck,
He beats thee 'gainst the odds. Thy lustre thickens,
When he shines by: I say again, thy Spirit
Is all afraid to govern thee near him.

But, he away, 'tis noble.

Ant.
Get thee gone:
Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him. [Exit Sooth.
He shall to Parthia;—be it art, or hap,
He hath spoke true. The very dice obey him;
And, in our Sports, my better cunning faints
Under his chance; if we draw lots, he speeds;
His cocks do win the battle still of mine,
When it is all to nought: and his quails ever
Beat mine, in-hoop'd at odds. I will to Ægypt;
And though I make this marriage for my peace,
I' th' east my pleasure lies. Oh, come, Ventidius. Enter Ventidius.
You must to Parthia, your commission's ready:
Follow me and receiv't. [Exeunt. Enter Lepidus, Mecænas, and Agrippa.

Lep.
Trouble your selves no farther: pray you, hasten
Your Generals after.

Agr.
Sir, Mark Antony
Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.

Lep.
'Till I shall see you in your Soldiers' dress,
Which will become you Both, farewel.

Mec.
We shall,
As I conceive the journey, be at th' mount
Before you, Lepidus.

Lep.
Your way is shorter,
My purposes do draw me much about;
You'll win two days upon me.

Both.
Sir, good success.

Lep.
Farewel. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Changes to the Palace in Alexandria. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Alexas.

Cleo.
Give me some musick: musick, moody food
Of us that trade in love—

Omnes.
The musick, hoa! Enter Mardian the Eunuch.

Cleo.
Let it alone, let's to billiards: come, Charmian.

Char.
My arm is sore, best play with Mardian.

Cleo.
As well a woman with an Eunuch play'd,
As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, Sir?

Mar.
As well as I can, Madam.

Cleo.
And when good will is shew'd, tho't come too short,
The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now.
Give me mine angle, we'll to th' river, there,
My musick playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'd fish; my bended hook shall pierce
Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
I'll think them every one an Antony,
And say, ah, ha! you're caught.

Char.
'Twas merry, when
You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.

Cleo.
That time!—oh times!—
I laught him out of patience, and that night
I laught him into patience; and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed:

^{5 note}
Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
I wore his sword Philippan. Oh, from Italy;— Enter a Messenger.
Ram thou thy faithful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.

Mes.
Madam! Madam!—

Cleo.
Antony's dead?—
If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress:
But well and free,
If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss: a hand, that Kings
Have lipt, and trembled kissing.

Mes.
First, Madam, he is well.

Cleo.
Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah, mark, we use
To say, the dead are well: bring it to that,
The gold, I give thee, will I melt and pour
Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Mes.
Good Madam, hear me.

Cleo.
Well, go to, I will:
But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony
Be free and healthful; why so tart a favour
To trumpet such good tidings? if not well,
Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes,
^{6 note}Not like a formal man.

Mes.
Will't please you hear me?

Cleo.
I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak'st;
Yet, if thou say Antony lives, 'tis well,
Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him,

^{7 note}

Mes.
Madam, he's well.

Cleo.
Well said.

Mes.
And friends with Cæsar.

Cleo.
Thou'rt an honest man.

Mes.
Cæsar and he, are greater friends than ever.

Cleo.
Make thee a fortune from me.

Mes.
But yet, Madam—

Cleo.
I do not like but yet, it does allay
^{8 note}The good precedence; fie upon but yet:
But yet is as a jaylor to bring forth
Some monstrous Malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together: he's friends with Cæsar,
In state of health, thou say'st; and thou say'st, free.

Mes.
Free, Madam! no: I made no such report.
He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo.
For what good turn?

Mes.
For the best turn i' th' bed.

Cleo.
I am pale, Charmian.

Mes.
Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleo.
The most infectious pestilence upon thee! [Strikes him down.

Mes.
Good Madam, patience.

Cleo.
What say you? [Strikes him.

Hence, horrible villain, or I'll spurn thine eyes
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head: [She hales him up and down.
Thou shalt be whipt with wire, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in lingring pickle.

Mes.
Gracious Madam,
I, that do bring the news, made not the match.

Cleo.
Say, 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow, thou had'st,
Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg.

Mes.
He's married, Madam.

Cleo.
Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. [Draws a dagger.

Mes.
Nay, then I'll run:
What mean you, Madam? I have made no fault. [Exit.

Char.
Good Madam, keep your self within your self,
The man is innocent.

Cleo.
Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt—
Melt Ægypt into Nile; and kindly creatures
Turn all to serpents! call the slave again;
Though I am mad, I will not bite him; call.

Char.
He is afraid to come,

Cleo.
I will not hurt him.
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself: since I myself
Have given myself the cause. Come hither, Sir. Re-enter the Messenger.
Though it be honest, it is never good
To bring bad news: give to a gracious message
An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Mes.
I have done my duty.

Cleo.
Is he married?

I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
If you again say, Yes.

Mes.
He's married, Madam.

Cleo.
The Gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still?

Mes.
Should I lie, Madam?

Cleo.
Oh, I would, thou didst;
So half my Ægypt were submerg'd, and made
A cistern for scal'd snakes! go, get thee hence,
Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou wouldst appear most ugly: he is married?—

Mes.
I crave your Highness' pardon.

Cleo.
He is married?—

Mes.
Take no offence, that I would not offend you;
To punish me for what you make me do,
Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia.

Cleo.
Oh, that his fault should make a knave of thee,
(a) ^noteThat say'st but what thou'rt sure of!—Get thee hence,
The merchandises, thou hast brought from Rome,
Are all too dear for me:
Lye they upon thy hand, and be undone by 'em! [Exit Mes.

Char.
Good your Highness, patience.

Cleo.
In praising Antony, I have disprais'd Cæsar.

Char.
Many times, Madam.

Cleo.
I am paid for it now: lead me from hence,
I faint; oh Iras, Charmian—'tis no matter.—
Go to the fellow, good Alexas, bid him
Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
Her inclination, let him not leave out
The colour of her hair. Bring me word quickly,—
Let him for ever go—let him not, Charmian;

Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
Th' other way he's a Mars. Bid you Alexas
Bring word, how tall she is: pity me, Charmian,
But speak not to me. Lead me to my chamber. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to the Coast of Italy, near Misenum. Enter Pompey and Menas, at one door, with drum and trumpet: At another, Cæsar, Lepidus, Antony, Enobarbus, Mecænas, Agrippa, with Soldiers marching.

Pom.
Your hostages I have, so have you mine;
And we shall talk before we fight.

Cæs.
Most meet,
That first we come to words; and therefore have we
Our written purposes before us sent;
Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know
If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword,
And carry back to Sicily much tall youth,
That else must perish here.

Pom.
To you all three,
The Senators alone of this great world,
Chief factors for the Gods,—I do not know,
Wherefore my Father should Revengers want,
Having a Son and Friends; since Julius Cæsar,
(Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,)
There saw you labouring for him. What was it,
That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire? and what
Made Thee, all-honour'd, honest Roman Brutus,
With the arm'd rest, Courtiers of beauteous freedom,
To drench the Capitol, but that they would
Have one man, but a man? And That is it,
Hath made me rig my Navy: At whose burthen
The anger'd Ocean foams, with which I meant
To scourge th' ingratitude that despightful Rome
Cast on my noble Father.

Cæs.
Take your time.

Ant.
Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails,
We'll speak with thee at sea. At land, thou know'st,
How much we do o'er-count thee.

Pom.
At land, indeed,
Thou dost o'er-count me of my Father's house.
But since the cuckow builds not for himself,
Remain in't, as thou may'st.

Lep.
Be pleas'd to tell us,
(For this is from the present,) how you take
The offers we have sent you.

Cæs.
There's the point.

Ant.
Which do not be intreated to, but weigh
What it is worth embrac'd.

Cæs.
And what may follow
To try a larger fortune.

Pom.
You've made me offer
Of Sicily, Sardinia: and I must
Rid all the sea of Pirates; then to send
Measures of wheat to Rome: this 'greed upon,
To part with unhackt edges, and bear back
Our targe undinted.

Omnes.
That's our offer.

Pom.
Know then,
I came before you here, a man prepar'd
To take this offer: But Mark Antony
Put me to some impatience.—Though I lose
The praise of it by telling, you must know,
When Cæsar and your Brother were at blows,
Your Mother came to Sicily, and did find
Her welcome friendly.

Ant.
I have heard it, Pompey,
And am well studied for a liberal thanks,
Which I do owe you.

Pom.
Let me have your hand:
I did not think, Sir, to have met you here.

Ant.
The beds i'th' East are soft; and thanks to you,

That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither:
For I've gain'd by it.

Cæs.
Since I saw you last,
There is a change upon you.

Pom.
Well, I know not,
^{9 note}What counts hard fortune casts upon my face;
But in my bosom she shall never come,
To make my heart her vassal.

Lep.
Well met here.

Pom.
I hope so, Lepidus, thus we are agreed:
I crave, our composition may be written
And seal'd between us.

Cæs.
That's the next to do.

Pom.
We'll feast each other, ere we part, and let's
Draw lots who shall begin.

Ant.
That I will, Pompey.

Pom.
No, Antony, take the lot:
But, first or last, your fine Ægyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. I've heard, that Julius Cæsar
Grew fat with feasting there.

Ant.
You have heard much.

Pom.
I have fair meaning, Sir.

Ant.
And fair words to them.

Pom.
Then so much have I heard.
And I have heard, Apollodorus carried—

Eno.
No more of that: he did so.

Pom.
What, I pray you?

Eno.
A certain Queen to Cæsar in a mattress.

Pom.
I know thee now, how far'st thou, Soldier?

Eno.
Well;
And well am like to do; for, I perceive,
Four Feasts are toward.

Pom.
Let me shake thy hand,
I never hated thee: I have seen thee fight,
When I have envied thy behaviour.

Eno.
Sir,
I never lov'd you much, but I ha' prais'd ye,
When you have well deserv'd ten times as much
As I have said you did.

Pom.
Enjoy thy plainness,
It nothing ill becomes thee;
Aboard my Galley I invite you all.
Will you lead, Lords?

All.
Shew's the way, Sir.

Pomp.
Come. [Exeunt. Manent Enob. and Menas.

Men.
Thy Father, Pompey, would ne'er have made this Treaty.
You and I have known, Sir.

Eno.

At sea, I think.

Men.

We have, Sir.

&wlquo;Eno.

&wlquo;You have done well by water.&wrquo;

&wlquo;Men.

&wlquo;And you by land.&wrquo;

&wlquo;Eno.

&wlquo;^{1 note}I will praise any man that will praise me,&wrquo; though it cannot be denied what I have done by land.

Men.

Nor what I have done by water.

Eno.

Yes, something you can deny for your own safety: you have been a great thief by sea.

Men.

And you by land.

Eno.

There I deny my land-service; but give me your hand, Menas, if our eyes had authority, here they might take two thieves kissing.

Men.

All men's faces are true, whatsoe'er their hands are.

Eno.

But there is ne'er a fair woman, has a true face.

Men.

No slander—they steal hearts.

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't back again.

Men.

You've said, Sir; we look'd not for Mark Antony here; pray you, is he married 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 ye, 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 prophesie 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 Ægyptian 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 married but his occasion here.

Men.

And thus it may be. Come, Sir, will you aboard? I have a health for you.

Eno.

I shall take it, Sir: we have us'd our throats in Ægypt.

Men.

Come, let's away.

SCENE VII. On Board Pompey's Galley. Musick plays. Enter two or three Servants with a Banquet.

1 Ser.

Here they'll be, man: some o'their plants are ill rooted already, the least wind i'th' world will blow them down.

2 Ser.

Lepidus is high-colour'd.

1 Ser.

^{2 note}They have made him drink alms-drink.

2 Ser.

^{3 note}As they pinch one another by the disposition, he cries out, no more; reconciles them to his entreaty, and himself to th' Drink.

1 Ser.

But it raises the greater war between him and his discretion.

2 Ser.

Why, this it is to have a name in great men's fellowship: I had as lieve have a reed that will do me no service, as a Partizan I could not heave.

1 Ser.

To be call'd into a huge sphere, and not to be seen to move in't, are the holes where eyes should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks.

Ant.
Thus do they, Sir: they take the flow o'th' Nile
By certain scale i'th' pyramid; they know,

By th' 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 Ægypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your Sun; so is your Crocodile.

Ant.

They are so.

Pom.
Sirrah, some wine! a health to Lepidus.

Lep.
I am not so 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 Ptolemy's Pyramisis 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. [Whispers.
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 its 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 satisfie him?

Ant.

With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a very Epicure.

Pom.
Go hang, Sir, hang! tell me of that? away!
Do as I bid you. Where's the Cup I call'd for?

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

Pom.
I think, thou'rt mad; 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 quick-sands, Lepidus,
Keep off them, 'fore 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 shall that be?

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

Pom.
Hast thou drunk well?

Men.
No, Pompey, I have kept me from the Cup.
Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove:
What e'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:
All then is thine.

Pom.
Ah, this thou shouldst have done,
And not have spoken on't. In me, 'tis villany;
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,
I'll never follow ^{4 note}thy pall'd fortunes more;
Who seeks and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd,
Shall never find it more.

Pom.
This health to Lepidus.

Ant.

Bear him ashoar, I'll pledge it for him, Pompey.

Eno.

Here's to thee, Menas.

Men.

Enobarbus, welcome.

Pom.

Fill 'till the Cup be hid.

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 an Alexandrian Feast.

Ant.
It ripens towards it; strike the vessels, hoa.
Here is to Cæsar.

Cæs.
I could well forbear it;
It's monstrous labour when I wash my brain,
And it grows fouler.

Ant.
Be a child o'th' time.

Cæs.
Possess it, I'll make answer; but I had rather
Fast from all, four days, than drink so much in one.

Eno.

Ha, my brave Emperor, shall we dance now the Ægyptian Bacchanals, and celebrate our Drink?

Pom.
Let's ha't, good Soldier.

Ant.
Come, let's all take hands;
'Till that the conquering wine hath steept 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 beat as loud
As his strong sides can volly. [Musick plays. Enobarbus places them hand in hand.
The 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;
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 Enobarbus
Is weaker than the wind; and mine own tongue
Splits what it speaks; the wild disguise hath almost
Antickt us all. What needs more words? good night.
Good Antony, your hand.

Pom.
I'll try you on the shoar.

Ant.
And shall, Sir; give's your hand.

Pom.
^{5 note}Oh, Antony, you have my father's house.
But, what! we're friends; come down into the boat.

Eno.
Take heed you fall not, Menas.

Men.
I'll not on shoar.
No, to my cabin—these drums!

These trumpets, flutes! what!
Let Neptune hear, we bid a loud farewel
To these great fellows. Sound, and be hang'd, sound out. [Sound a flourish, with drums.

Eno.
Hoo, says 'a! there's my cap.

Men.
Hoa!—noble Captain, come. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. A Camp in a Part of Syria. Enter Ventidius, as after Conquest; the dead body of Pacorus borne before him, Silius, Roman Soldiers, and Attendants.

Ventidius.
Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and now
Pleas'd Fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death
Make me revenger. Bear the King's son's body
Before our Host; thy Pacorus, Orodes,
Pays this for Marcus Crassus.

Sil.
Noble Ventidius,
Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow: Spur through Media,
Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither
The routed fly. So thy grand Captain Antony
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and
Put garlands on thy head.

Ven.
Oh Silius, Silius,
I've done enough. A lower place, note well,
May make too great an act: for learn this, Silius,
Better to leave undone, than by our deed
Acquire too high a fame, when he, we serve, 's away.
Cæsar and Antony have ever won
More in their officer, than person. Sossius,

One of my Place in Syria, his Lieutenant,
For quick accumulation of renown,
Which he atchiev'd by th' minute, lost his Favour.
Who does i'th' wars more than his Captain can,
Becomes his Captain's Captain; and ambition,
(The soldier's virtue) rather makes choice of loss,
Than gain which darkens him.
I could do more to do Antonius good,
But 'twould offend him; and in his offence
Should my performance perish.

Sil.
Thou hast, Ventidius, ^{1 note}
That, without the which
A soldier and his sword grant scarce distinction:
Thou wilt write to Antony?

Ven.
I'll humbly signifie what in his name,
^{2 note}That magical word of war, we have effected;
How with his Banners, and his well-paid Ranks,
The ne'er-yet-beaten Horse of Parthia
We've jaded out o'th' field.

Sil.
Where is he now?

Ven.
He purposeth to Athens; with what haste
The weight we must convey with's will permit,
We shall appear before him. On, there;—pass along. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Changes to Rome. Enter Agrippa at one door, Enobarbus at another.

Agr.
What, are the brothers parted?

Eno.
They have dispatch'd with Pompey, he is gone,
The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps,
To part from Rome: Cæsar is sad: and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled
With the green sickness.

Agr.
'Tis a noble Lepidus.

Eno.
A very fine one; oh, how he loves Cæsar!

Agr.
Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!

Eno.
Cæsar? why, he's the Jupiter of men.

Agr.
What's Antony, the God of Jupiter?

Eno.
Speak you of Cæsar? oh! the non-pareil!

Agr.
Oh Antony, oh thou Arabian bird!

Eno.
Would you praise Cæsar, say,—Cæsar; go no further.

Agr.
Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises.

Eno.
But he loves Cæsar best, yet he loves Antony:
Ho! hearts, tongues, figure, scribes, bards, poets, cannot
Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho!
His love to Antony. But as for Cæsar,
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder—

Agr.
Both he loves.

Eno.
They are his shards, and he their beetle; so—
This is to horse; adieu, noble Agrippa. [Trumpets.

Agr.
Good fortune, worthy soldier, and farewel.

Enter Cæsar, Antony, Lepidus, and Octavia.

Ant.
No farther, Sir.

Cæs.
You take from me a great part of my self:
Use me well in't. Sister, prove such a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and my farthest bond
Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony,
Let not the piece of virtue, which is set
Betwixt us, as the cement of our love,
To keep it builded, be the Ram to batter
The Fortress of it: for better might we
Have lov'd without this mean, if on both parts
This be not cherisht.

Ant.
Make me not offended
In your distrust.

Cæs.
I've said.

Ant.
You shall not find,
Though you be therein curious, the least cause
For what you seem to fear; so the Gods keep you,
And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends!
We will here part.

Cæs.
Farewel, my dearest sister, fare thee well;
The elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well.

Oct.
My noble brother!

Ant.
The April's in her eyes: it is love's Spring,
And these the showers to bring it on; be chearful.

Oct.
Sir, look well to my husband's house; and—

Cæs.
What, Octavia?

Oct.
I'll tell you in your ear.

Ant.
Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue; &wlquo;the swan'd ^note down-feather,
&wlquo;That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
&wlquo;And neither way inclines.&wrquo;

Eno.
Will Cæsar weep?

Agr.
He has a cloud in's face.

Eno.
He were the worse for that, were he a horse;
So is he, being a man.

Agr.
Why, Enobarbus?
When Antony found Julius Cæsar dead,
He cried almost to roaring; and he wept,
When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.

Eno.
That year, indeed, he was troubled with a rheum;
What willingly he did confound, he wail'd;
Believe't, 'till I wept too.

Cæs.
No, sweet Octavia,
You shall hear from me still; the time shall not
Out-go my thinking on you.

Ant.
Come, Sir, come,
I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love.
Look, here I have you; thus I let you go,
And give you to the Gods.

Cæs.
Adieu, be happy!

Lep.
Let all the number of the Stars give light
To thy fair way!

Cæs.
Farewel, farewel! [Kisses Octavia.

Ant.
Farewel! [Trumpets sound. Exeunt. SCENE III. Changes to the Palace in Alexandria. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo.
Where is the fellow?

Alex.
Half afraid to come.

Cleo.
Go to, go to; come hither, Sir. Enter the Messenger as before.

Alex.
Good Majesty!
Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you,
But when you are well pleas'd.

Cleo.
That Herod's head

I'll have; but how? when Antony is gone,
Through whom I might command it:—Come Thou near.

Mes.
Most gracious Majesty,—

Cleo.
Didst thou behold
Octavia?

Mes.
Ay, dread Queen.

Cleo.
Where?

Mes.
In Rome, Madam.
I lookt her in the face; and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.

Cleo.
Is she as tall as me?

Mes.
She is not, Madam.

Cleo.
Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongu'd, or low?

Mes.
Madam, I heard her speak, she is low-voic'd.

Cleo.
That's not so good; he cannot like her long.

Char.
Like her? oh Isis! 'tis impossible.

Cleo.
I think so, Charmian; dull of tongue and dwarfish.
What Majesty is in her gate? remember,
If e'er thou look'dst on Majesty.

Mes.
She creeps;
Her motion and her station are as one:
She shews a body rather than a life,
A statue than a breather.

Cleo.
Is this certain?

Mes.
^{3 note}Or I have no observance.

Char.
Three in Ægypt
Cannot make better note.

Cleo.
He's very knowing.
I do perceive't; there's nothing in her yet.
The fellow has good judgment.

Char.
Excellent.

Cleo.
Guess at her years, I pr'ythee.

Mes.
Madam, she was a widow.

Cleo.
Widow? Charmian, hark.

Mes.
And I do think, she's thirty.

Cleo.
Bear'st thou her face in mind? it's long, or round?

Mes.
Round even to faultiness.

Cleo.
For th' most part too,
They're foolish that are so. Her hair, what colour?

Mes.
Brown, Madam; and her forehead
As low as she would wish it.

Cleo.
There's gold for thee.
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill,
I will employ thee back again; I find thee
Most fit for business. Go, make thee ready;
Our letters are prepar'd.

Char.
A proper man.

Cleo.
Indeed, he is so: I repent me much,
That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him,
This creature's no such thing.

Char.
O, nothing, Madam.

Cleo.
The man hath seen some Majesty, and should know.

Char.
Hath he seen Majesty? Isis else defend!
And serving you so long?

Cleo.
I've one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian:
But 'tis no matter, thou shalt bring him to me
Where I will write: all may be well enough.

Char.
I warrant you, Madam. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Changes to Athens. Enter Antony and Octavia.

Ant.
Nay, nay, Octavia, not only That,
That were excusable, That and thousands more
Of semblable import, but he hath wag'd
New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his Will and read it
To publick ear; spoke scantily of me;
When perforce he could not
But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly
He vented them; most narrow measure lent me;
When the best hint was given him, he (a) ^note not took't,
Or did it from his teeth.

Oct.
Oh, my good lord,
Believe not all; or, if you must believe,
Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady,
If this division chance, ne'er stood between,
Praying for both parts: the good Gods will mock me,
When I shall pray, oh, bless my lord and husband!
Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud,
Oh, bless my brother! Husband win, win brother,
Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway
'Twixt these extreams at all.

Ant.
Gentle Octavia,
Let your best love draw to that point, which seeks
Best to preserve it; if I lose mine honour,
I lose my self; better I were not yours,
Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested,
Your self shall go between's; the mean time, lady,
I'll raise the preparation of a war,
Shall stain your brother; make your soonest haste;

So, your desires are yours.

Oct.
Thanks to my lord.
The Jove of Power make me, most weak, most weak,
Your reconciler! ^{4 note}wars 'twixt you 'twain would be
As if the world should cleave, and that slain men
Should solder up the rift.

Ant.
When it appears to you where this begins,
Turn your displeasure that way; for our faults
Can never be so equal, that your love
Can equally move with them. Provide your Going;
Chuse your own company, and command what cost
Your heart has mind to. [Exeunt. Enter Enobarbus and Eros.

Eno.

How now, friend Eros?

Eros.

There's strange news, come, Sir.

Eno.

What, man?

Eros.

Cæsar and Lepidus have made war upon Pompey.

Eno.

This is old; what is the success?

Eros.

Cæsar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst Pompey, presently denied him rivalty, would not let him partake in the glory of the action; and not resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote to Pompey. Upon his own appeal, seizes him; so the poor Third is up, 'till death enlarge his confine.

Eno.

Then 'would thou had'st a pair of chaps, no more: and throw between them all the food thou hast, they'll grind the other. Where's Antony?

Eros.
He's walking in the garden thus; and spurns
The rush that lies before him. Crys, “fool Lepidus!

And threats the throat of that his Officer,
That murder'd Pompey.

Eno.
Our great Navy's rigg'd.

Eros.
For Italy and Cæsar; more, Domitius,
My lord desires you presently; my news
I might have told hereafter.

Eno.

'Twill be naught; but let it be; bring me to Antony.

Eros.

Come, Sir.