1

SCENE I. A Plain in SYRIA.

Enter VENTIDIUS, as after Conquest, with SILIUS, and other Romans, Officers, and Soldiers; the dead Body of PACORUS borne before him.

Ven. Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and now Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death Make me revenger.-Bear the king's son's body 'Before our army :-Thy Pacorus, Orodes, Pays this for Marcus Crassas.

Sil.

Noble Ventidius,

Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media,
Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither

The routed fly: so thy grand captain Antony
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and
Put garlands on thy head.

Ven.

O Silius, Silius,

I have done enough: A lower place, note well,
May make too great an act: For learn this, Silius;

Better leave undone, than by our deed acquire
Too high a fame, when him we serve's away.
Cæsar, and Antony, have ever won
More in their officer, than person: Sossius,
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,
For quick accumulation of renown,

Which he achiev'd by the minute, lost his favour.
Who does i'the wars more than his captain can,
Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition,
The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss,
Than gain, which darkens him.

I could do more to do Antonius good,

But twould offend him; and in his offence
Should my performance perish.

Sil.

Thou hast, Ventidius,

That without which a soldier, and his sword,
Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony?
Ven. I'll humbly signify what in his name,

That magical word of war, we have effected;
How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks,
The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia

We have jaded out o'the field.

Sil.

Where is he now?

Ven. He purposeth to Athens: whither with what

haste

The weight we must convey with us will permit, We shall appear before him.-On, there; pass along. [Exeunt.

SCENE 11.

ROME. An Antechamber in CESAR's House.

Enter AGRIPPA and ENOBARBUS, meeting.

Agr. What, are the brothers parted?

Eno. They have despatch'd with Pompey, he is gone; The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps To part from Rome: Cæsar is sad; and Lepidus, Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled With the green-sickness.

Agr.

'Tis a noble Lepidus.

Eno. A very fine one: O, how he loves Cæsar!
Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!!
Eno. Cæsar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men..
Agr. What's Antony? The god of Jupiter.
Eno. Spake you of Cæsar? How? the nonpareil!
Agr. O Antony! O thou Arabian bird!

Eno. Would you praise Cæsar, say,-Cæsar ;-go no

further.

Agr. Indeed, he ply'd them both with excellent praises.

Eno. But he loves Cæsar best;-Yet he loves Antony: Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets,

cannot

Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho, his love To Antony. But as for Cæsar,

Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.

Agr.

Both he loves. Eno. They are his shards, and he their beetle. So,

[Trumpets.

This is to horse.-Adieu, noble Agrippa.
Agr. Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell.
Enter CESAR, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA.
Ant. No further, sir.

Cas. You take from me a great part of myself;
Use me well in it.-Sister, prove such a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and as my furthest band
Shall pass on thy approof.-Most noble Antony,
Let not the piece of virtue, which is set
Betwixt us, as the cement of our love,
To keep it builded, be the ram, to batter
The fortress of it: for better might we

Have lov'd without this mean, if on both parts
This be not cherish'd.

Though you be therein curious, the least cause
For what you seem to fear: So, the gods keep you,

And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends!
We will here part.

Cas. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well;
The elements be kind to thee, and make

Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well.
Octa. My noble brother!—

Ant. The April's in her eyes: It is love's spring, And these the showers to bring it on.-Be cheerful. Octa. Sir, look well to my husband's house; and— Cæs. What, Octavia?

Octa. I'll tell you in your ear.

Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue: the swan's down feather, That stands upon the swell at full of tide,

And neither way inclines.

Eno. Will Cæsar weep?

Agr.

Eno. He were the worse for that, were he a horse;

So is he, being a man.

Why, Enobarbus?

Agr.
When Antony found Julius Cæsar dead,

He cried almost to roaring: and he wept,
When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.

Eno. That year, indeed, he was troubled with a rheum;
What willingly he did confound, he wail'd:
Believe it, till I weep too.

Cæs.

You shall hear from me still;
Out-go my thinking on you.

No, sweet Octavia,

the time shall not

Come, sir, come;

Ant.
I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love:
Look, here I have you; thus I let you go,

And give you to the gods.

Cæs.

Adieu; be happy! Lep. Let all the number of the stars give light

To thy fair way!

Cæs.

Ant.

Farewell, farewell! [Kisses Octavia.

Farewell.

[Trumpets sound. Exeunt.

SCENE III. ALEXANDRIA. A Room in the Palace.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS. Cleo. Where is the fellow?

Alex.

Half afeard to come.

Cleo. Go to, go to:-Come hither, sir.

Alex.

Enter a Messenger.

Good majesty,

That Herod's head

Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you,
But when you are well pleas'd.

Cleo.

I'll have: But how? when Antony is gone,

Through whom I might command it.Come thou near. Mess. Most gracious majesty,

Cleo.

Didst thou behold

I look'd her in the face; and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.
Cleo. Is she as tall as me?

Mess.

She is not, madam. Cleo. Didst hear her speak? Is she shrill-tongu❜d, or

low?

Mess. Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voic'd. Cleo. That's not so good:--he cannot like her long. Char. Like her? O Isis! 'tis impossible.

Cleo. I think so, Charmian: Dull of tongue, and What majesty is in her gait? Remember, [dwarfish!— If e'er thou look'st on majesty.

Mess.

She creeps;

Her motion and her station are as one:
She shows a body rather than a life;

A statue, than a breather.

Cleo.

Is this certain?

Mess. Or I have no observance.
Char.

Cannot make better note.

Cleo.

Three in Egypt

He's very knowing,