Scarus wounded.
Scar.
O my brave Emperor! this is fought indeed;
Had we done so at first, we had droven them home
With clouts about their heads.
Ant.
Thou bleed'st apace.
Scar.
I had a wound here that was like a T,
But now 'tis made an H.
Ant.
They do retire.
Scar.
We'll beat 'em into bench-holes; I have yet
Room for six scotches more.
Enter Eros.
Eros.
They're beaten, Sir, and our advantage serves
For a fair victory.
Scar.
Let us score their backs,
And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind;
'Tis sport to maul a runner.
Ant.
I will reward thee
Once for thy sprightly comfort, and ten-fold
For thy good valour. Come thee on.
Scar.
I'll halt after.
[Exeunt.
Alarum. Enter Antony again in a March, Scarus with others.
Ant.
We've beat him to his camp; 6 note
run one before,
And let the Queen know of our Gests; to morrow,
Before the sun shall see's, we'll spill the blood
That has to day escap'd. I thank you all;
For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
-- 189 --
Not as you serv'd the cause, but as't had been
Each man's like mine; you've shewn yourselves all Hectors.
Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,
Tell them your feats, whilst they with joyful tears
Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss
The honour'd gashes whole. Give me thy hand,
[To Scarus.
Enter Cleopatra.
&wlquo;7 noteTo this great Faiery I'll commend thy acts,
&wlquo;Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o'th' world,
&wlquo;8 noteChain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all,
&wlquo;Through proof of harness, to my heart, and there
&wlquo;9 noteRide on the pants triumphing.&wrquo;
Cleo.
Lord of Lords!
Oh, infinite virtue! com'st thou smiling from
&wlquo;The world's great snare uncaught?&wrquo;
Ant.
My nightingale!
We've beat them to their beds. What! Girl, though gray
Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha'we
A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man,
Commend unto his lips thy 1 notefavouring hand:
Kiss it, my warrior; he hath fought to day,
&wlquo;As if a God in hate of mankind had
&wlquo;Destroyed in such a shape.&wrquo;
Cleo.
I'll give thee, friend,
An armour all of gold; it was a King's.
-- 190 --
Ant.
He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled
Like holy Phœbus' Car.—Give me thy hand;
Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
2 noteBear our hackt targets, like the men that owe them.
Had our great palace the capacity
To camp this host, we would all sup together;
And drink carowses to the next day's fate,
Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters,
With brazen din blast you the city's ear,
Make mingle with our ratling tabourines,
That heav'n and earth may strike their sounds together,
Applauding our approach.
[Exeunt.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
