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O, is 't come to this? Ant. I found you as a morsel cold upon Dead Cæsar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours, Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have Luxuriously* pick'd out; for, I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is.

*Wantonly. Cleo.

Wherefore is this? Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards And

say 'God quit you!' be familiar with My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal And plighter of high hearts! O, that I were Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar The horned herd! for I have savage cause; And to proclaim it civilly, were like A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank For being yare* about him.

*Ready. Re-enter Attendants with THYREUS.

Is he whipp'd? 131 First Att. Soundly, my lord. Ant. Cried he? and begg'd a' pardon? First Att. He did ask favour.

Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou

sorry To follow Cæsar in his triumph, since Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: hence

forth The white hand of a lady fever thee, Shake thou to look on 't. Get thee back to Cæsar, Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou say 140 He makes me angry with him; for he seems Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry; And at this time most easy 'tis to do 't, When my good stars, that were my former guides, Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike My speech and what is done, tell him he has Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,


As he shall like, to quit* me: urge it thou: 151 Hence with thy stripes, begone![Exit Thyreus. Cleo. Have you done yet?

*Requite. Ant.

Alack, our terrene* moon Is now eclipsed; and it portends alone *Earthly. The fall of Antony! Cleo.

I must stay his time. Ant. To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes With one that ties his points? Cleo.

Not know me yet? Ant. Cold-hearted toward me? Cleo.

Ah, dear, if I be so, From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, And poison it in the source; and the first stone Drop in my neck: as it determines,* so Dissolve

my life! The next Cæsarion smite! 162 Till by degrees the memory of my womb, Together with my brave Egyptians all, By the discandying of this pelleted storm, Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile Have buried them for prey! Ant.

I am satisfied. Cæsar sits down in Alexandria; where

his fate. Our force by land Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too 170 Have knit again, and fleet,* threatening most sea

like. Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou

hear, lady?
If from the field I shall return once more
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
I and my sword will earn our chronicle:
There's hope in 't yet.

Cleo. That's my brave lord!
Ant. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breathed,
And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives 180
Of nie for jests; but now I'll set my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me. Come,
Let's have one other gaudy* night: call to me
All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more;
Let's mock the midnight bell.

It is my birth-day:

I will oppose,



I had thought to have held it poor; but, since my

Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We will yet do well.
Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord.
Ant. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night
I'll force

190 The wine peep through their scars.

Come on, my queen; There's sap in 't yet. The next time I do fight, I'll make death love me; for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe.

[Exeunt all but Enobarbus. Eno. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be

furious, Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood The dove will peck the estridgę;* and I see still, A diminution in our captain's brain

*Ostrich. Restores his heart: when valour preys on reason, It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek 200 Some way to leave him.



SCENE I. Before Alexandria. Cæsar's camp. Enter CÆSAR, AGRIPPA, and MECÆNAS, with his

Army; CÆSAR reading a letter. Cæs. He calls me boy; and chides, as he had

power To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal

Cæsar to Antony: let the old ruffian know
I have many other ways to die; meantime
Laugh at his challenge.

Cæsar must think,
When one so great begins to rage, he's huntea
Even to falling: Give him no breath, but now
Make boot of his distraction: never anger
Made good guard for itself.

Let our best heads


Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles
We mean to fight: within our files there are,
Of those that served Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done:
And feast the army; we have store to do't,
And they have earn’d the waste. Poor Antony!

[Exeunt. SCENE II. Alexandria. Cleopatra's palace. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHAR

MIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, with others.
Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius.

Ant. Why should he not?
Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better

fortune, He is twenty men to one. Ant.

To-morrow, soldier,
By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live,
Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well?

Eno. I'll strike, and cry ‘Take all.'

Well said; come on.
Call forth my household servants: let's to-night
Be bounteous at our meal.
Enter three or four Servitors.

Give me thy hand, Thou hast been rightly honest;—so hast thou:Thou, -and thou, -and thou:—you have served

me well, And kings have been your fellows. Cleo.

[Aside to Eno.] What means this? Eno. [Aside to Cleo.] 'Tis one of those odd

tricks which sorrow shoots
Out of the mind.

And thou art honest too.
I wish I could be made so many men,
And all of you clapp'd up together in
An Antony, that I might do you service
So good as you have done.

The gods forbid!

IO 20

Ant. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to

Scant not my cups; and make as much of me
As when mine empire was your fellow too,
And suffer'd my command.

Cleo. [Aside to Eno.] What does he mean?
Eno. [Aside to Cleo.] To make his followers

Ant. *Tend me to-night;
May be it is the period of your duty:
Haply you shall not see me more; or if,
A mangled shadow: perchance to-morrow
You'll serve another master. I look on you
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
I turn you not away; but, like a master

30 Married to your good service, stay till death: Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, And the gods yield* you for 't!

*Reward. Eno.

What mean you, sir, To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep; And I, an ass, am onion-eyed: for shame, Transform us not to women. Ant.

Ho, ho, ho! Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus! Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty

friends, You take me in too dolorous a sense; For I spake to you for your comfort; did desire you

40 To burn this night with torches: know, my hearts, I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you Where rather I'll expect victorious life Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come, And drown consideration.


SCENE III. The same. Before the palace.

Enter two Soldiers to their guard. First Sold. Brother, good night: to-morrow is

the day. Sec. Sold. It will determine one way: fare you

well. Heard you of nothing strange about the streets ?

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