Eno.
Naught, naught, all naught, I can behold no longer;
^{6 note}Th' Antonias, the Ægyptian admiral,
With all their sixty, flie, and turn the rudder:
To see't, mine eyes are blasted. Enter Scarus.

Scar.
Gods and Goddesses,
All the whole Synod of them!

Eno.
What's thy passion?

Scar.
^{7 note}The greater cantle of the world is lost
With very ignorance; we have kist away
Kingdoms and Provinces.

Eno.
How appears the fight?

&wlquo;Scar.
&wlquo;On our side like the token'd pestilence,
&wlquo;Where death is sure. Your ^{8 note}ribauld nag of Ægypt,
&wlquo;(Whom leprosie o'ertake!) i'th' midst o'th' fight,
&wlquo;(When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd
&wlquo;Both as the same, or rather ours the elder;)
&wlquo;The breeze upon her, like a cow in June,

&wlquo;Hoists sails, and flies.&wrquo;

Eno.
That I beheld:
Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not
Endure a further view.

&wlquo;Scar.
&wlquo;She once being looft,
&wlquo;The noble ruin of her magick, Antony,
&wlquo;Claps on his sea-wing, like a doating mallard,
&wlquo;Leaving the fight in height, flies after her:&wrquo;
I never saw an action of such shame;
Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
Did violate so itself.

Eno.
Alack, alack. Enter Canidius.

Can.
Our fortune on the sea is out of breath,
And sinks most lamentably. Had our General
Been what he knew himself, it had gone well:
Oh, he has given example for our flight,
Most grosly by his own.

Eno.

Ay, are you thereabouts? why then, good night, indeed.

Can.
Towards Peloponnesus are they fled.

Scar.
'Tis easy to't.
And there I will attend what further comes.

Can.
To Cæsar will I render
My legions and my horse; six Kings already
Shew me the way of yielding.

Eno.
I'll yet follow
The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason
Sits in the wind against me. [Exeunt, severally. Enter Antony, with Eros and other Attendants.

Ant.
Hark, the land bids me tread no more upon't,
It is asham'd to bear me. Friends, come hither,
I am so lated in the world, that I
Have lost my way for ever. I've a ship
Laden with gold, take that, divide it; fly,
And make your peace with Cæsar.

Omnes.
Fly! not we.

Ant.
I've fled myself, and have instructed cowards
To run, and shew their shoulders. Friends, be gone.
I have myself resolv'd upon a course,
Which has no need of you. Be gone,
My treasure's in the harbour. Take it—oh,
I follow'd That I blush to look upon;
My very hairs do mutiny; for the white
Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them
For fear and doating. Friends, be gone; you shall
Have letters from me to some friends, that will
Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad,
Nor make replies of lothness; take the hint,
Which my despair proclaims. Let them be left,
Which leave themselves. To the sea-side straight-way:
I will possess you of that ship and treasure.
Leave me, I pray, a little; pray you now—
Nay, do so; for, indeed, I've lost command,
Therefore, I pray you—I'll see you by and by. [Sits down. Enter Cleopatra, led by Charmian and Iras, to Antony.

Eros.
Nay, gentle Madam, to him, comfort him.

Iras.
Do, most dear Queen.

Char.
Do? why, what else?

Cleo.
Let me sit down; oh Juno!

Ant.
No, no, no, no, no.

Eros.
See you here, Sir!

Ant.
Oh fie, fie, fie.

Char.
Madam—

Iras.
Madam, oh good Empress!

Eros.
Sir, sir.

&wlquo;Ant.
&wlquo;Yes, my lord, yes; he at Philippi kept
&wlquo;His sword e'en like a dancer, while I strook
&wlquo;The lean and wrinkled Cassius; ^{9 note}
and 'twas I,

&wlquo;That the mad Brutus ended; he alone&wrquo;
Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practice had
In the brave squares of war; yet now—no matter—

Cleo.
Ah, stand by.

Eros.
The Queen, my lord, the Queen—

Iras.
Go to him, Madam, speak to him,
He is unqualitied with very shame.

Cleo.
Well then, sustain me; oh!

Eros.
Most noble Sir, arise, the Queen approaches;
Her head's declin'd, and death will seize her, but
Your comfort makes the rescue.

Ant.
I have offended reputation;
A most unnoble swerving—

Eros.
Sir, the Queen.

Ant.
O whither hast thou led me, Ægypt? see,
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes;
By looking back on what I've left behind,
'Stroy'd in dishonour.

Cleo.
Oh, my lord, my lord;
Forgive my fearful sails; I little thought,
You would have follow'd.

Ant.
Ægypt, thou knew'st too well,
My heart was to thy rudder ty'd by th' string,
And thou should'st towe me after. O'er my spirit
Thy full supremacy thou knew'st; and that
Thy beck might from the bidding of the Gods
Command me.

Cleo.
Oh, my pardon.

Ant.
Now I must
To the young man send humble treaties, dodge
And palter in the shift of lowness; who,
With half the bulk o' th' world, play'd as I pleas'd,
Making and marring fortunes. You did know,
How much you were my conqueror; and that
My sword, made weak by my affection, would

Obey it on all cause.

Cleo.
O, pardon, pardon.

Ant.
Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates
All that is won and lost: give me a kiss,
Even this repays me.—
We sent our schoolmaster; is he come back?
Love, I am full of lead; some wine,
Within there, and our viands: Fortune knows,
We scorn her most, when most she offers blows. [Exeunt.

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