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 fly 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. 190

Eno. When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart, upon the river of Cydnus. Agr. There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised well for her.

Eno. I will tell you.

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;

Purple the sails, and so perfumed that

The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,

Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made

200

The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own

person,

It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion-cloth-of-gold of tissue-
O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did
cool,

And what they undid did.
Agr.
O, rare for Antony! 210
Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended her i the eyes,
And made their bends adornings: at the helm
A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft
hands,

That yarely frame the office. From the barge
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
O Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthroned i the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too

And made a gap in nature.

She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed:
He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.
Eno.
I saw her once

Hop forty paces through the public 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 240
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. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
The heart of Antony, Octavia is
A blessed lottery to him.
Agr.
Let us go.
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest 249
Whilst you abide here.

Eno. Humbly, sir, I thank you. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same. Cæsar's house. Enter ANTONY, CÆSAR, OCTAVIA between them, and Attendants.

Ant. The world and my great office will

Sooth. Would I had never come from

If thou dost play with him at any game, Thou art 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.

30

Ant. Get thee gone: Say to Ventidius I would speak with him: [Exit Soothsayer. He shall to Parthia. Be it art or hap, He hath spoken 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, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt: And though I make this marriage for my peace, I' the east my pleasure lies.

me, sir?

Mar. As well as I can, madam.

Cleo. And when good-will is show'd. though 't come too short,

The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now
Give me mine angle; we 'll to the river: there.
My music playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook sha
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,-O times!— I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night I laugh'd him into patience: and next morn, Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed. Then put my tires and mantles on him, whist I wore his sword Philippan.

51

Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me. Mess. But yet, madam,— Cleo. I do not like 'But yet, it does allay The good precedence; fie upon 'But yet'! 'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, 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.

Mess. Free, madam! no; I made no such report:

He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo. For what good turn? Mess. For the best turn i' the bed. Cleo. I am pale, Charmian. Mess. Madam, he's married to Octavia. Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon thee! [Strikes him down. Mess. Good madam, patience. Cleo. What say you? Hence, [Strikes him again. 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 whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine,

Smarting in lingering pickle.
Mess.
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 hadst

Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside 71
Thy modesty can beg.
Mess.

He's married, madam.

Cleo. Is he married?

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

90

Mess.
He's married, madam.
Cleo. The gods confound thee! dost thou
hold there still?

Mess. Should I lie, madam?

Cleo.
O, I would thou didst,
So half my Egypt were submerged and made
A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee
hence:

Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married?
Mess. I crave your highness' pardon.
Cleo.
He is married?
Mess. Take no offence that I would not
offend you:

To punish me for what you make me do 100
Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia.
Cleo. O, that his fault should make a
knave of thee,

That art not what thou 'rt sure of! Get thee hence:

The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome

Are all too dear for me: lie they upon thy hand,

And be undone by 'em! [Exit Messenger. Char. Good your highness, patience. Cleo. In praising Antony, I have dispraised Cæsar.

Char. Many times, madam.