&wlquo;Philo.
&wlquo;Nay, but this dotage of our General
&wlquo;O'er-flows the measure; those his goodly eyes,
&wlquo;That o'er the files and musters of the war
&wlquo;Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
&wlquo;The office and devotion of their view
&wlquo;Upon a tawny front. His Captain's heart,
&wlquo;Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst

&wlquo;The buckles on his breast, ^{1 note}reneges all temper;
&wlquo;And is become the bellows, and the fan,
&wlquo;To cool a Gypsy's lust. Look, where they come!&wrquo; Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, her Ladies in the train, Eunuchs fanning her.
Take but good note, and you shall see in him
&wlquo;^{2 note}

Cleo.
If it be love, indeed, tell me, how much?

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

Cleo.
I'll set a ^{3 note}bourn how far to be belov'd.

Ant.
Then must thou needs find out new heav'n, new earth. Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
News, my good Lord, from Rome.

Ant.
It grates me. Tell the sum.

Cleo.
Nay, hear it, 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?

Cleo.
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'd say, both?
Call in the Messengers; as I'm Ægypt's Queen,
Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine
Is Cæsar's homager: else, so thy cheeks pay shame,
When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds. The Messengers—

&wlquo;Ant.
&wlquo;Let Rome in Tyber melt, ^{4 note}and the wide arch
&wlquo;Of the rais'd Empire fall! here is my space;&wrquo;
Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man; the nobleness of life
Is to do thus; when such a mutual Pair, [Embracing.
And such a twain can do't; in which, I bind
(On pain of punishment) the world ^{5 note}to weet,
We stand up peerless.

Cleo.
Excellent falshood!
Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?
I'll seem the fool, I am not. Antony
Will be himself.

Ant.
But stirr'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
^{6 note}Without some pleasure new: what sport to night?

Cleo.
Hear the Ambassadors.

&wlquo;Ant.
&wlquo;Fie, wrangling Queen!
&wlquo;Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
&wlquo;To weep: whose every passion fully strives
&wlquo;To make it self in thee fair and admired.&wrquo;
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, with their Train.

Dem.
Is Cæsar with Antonius priz'd so slight?

Phil.
Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,
He comes too short of that great property
Which still should go with Antony.

Dem.
I'm sorry,
That he approves the common liar, Fame,
Who speaks him thus at Rome; but I will hope
Of better deeds to morrow. Rest you happy! [Exeunt.

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