And give true evidence to his love, which stands

CLEO. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

You'll heat my blood! no more!

81

And target. Still he mends;

ANT. Now, by my sword

CLEO.

But this is not the best: look, pr'ythee, Charmian,

How this Herculean Roman does become

The carriage of his chafe.

ANT. I'll leave you, Lady.

CLEO.

Courteous Lord, one word.

Sir, you and I must part-but that's not it:
Sir, you and I have lov'd-but there's not it;
That you know well: something it is I would-
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,

And I am all forgotten.

ANT.

But that your royalty

Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.

To bear such idleness so near the heart

As Cleopatra this. But, Sir, forgive me;

Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,

And all the Gods go with you! upon your sword
Sit laurel Victory! and smooth success

Be strew'd before your feet!

ACT I
Sc. III

ANT.

Let us go. Come;

Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away!

[exeunt.

SCENE IV. Rome. CÆSAR'S House.

Enter OCTAVIUS CÆSAR, reading a letter, LEPIDUS,
and their Train.

CES. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate

Our great competitor. From Alexandria

This is the news: He fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike
Than Cleopatra, nor the Queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or
Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: you shall find

there

A man who is the abstract of all faults

That all men follow.

LEP.

I must not think there are

Evils enow to darken all his goodness:

His faults, in him, seem as the spots of Heaven,

More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change,

Than what he chooses.

CAS. You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;

To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit

And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;

To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet

20

With knaves that smell of sweat: say this becomes him

(As his composure must be rare indeed

Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Antony

No way excuse his soils, when we do bear

So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd

His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,

Call on him' for 't: but to confound such time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state and our's-'tis to be chid
As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgment.

LEP.

Enter a Messenger.

Here's more news.

ACT I

Sc. IV

30

MESS. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,
Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report

How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears he is belov'd of those

That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The discontents repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

CES.

I should have known no less:

It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he which is was wish'd until he were;
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love,
Comes fear'd by being lack'd.2 This common body,
Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,

Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,

To rot itself with motion.

MESS.

Cæsar, I bring thee word,

Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,

Make the Sea serve them, which they ear3 and wound
With keels of every kind: many hot inroads

They make in Italy; the borders maritime

Lack blood to think on 't, and flush youth revolt:

No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon

Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
Than could his war resisted.

Leave thy lascivious wassails! When thou once
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, Consuls, at thy heel

Did Famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink

1 visit him. 2 i.c. is first desired by the mob, then feared by them.

3 plough.

41

50

60

ACT I

Sc. IV

The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle

Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did

deign

The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;

Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: and all this
(It wounds thine honour that I speak it now)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Cæs. Let his shames quickly

Drive him to Rome; 'tis time we twain

Did shew ourselves i' the field; and to that end
Assemble we immediate council: Pompey

70

80

LEP. Farewell, my Lord; what you shall know meantime
Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, Sir,

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN.

CLEO. Charmian

CHAR. Madam ?

CLEO. Ha, ha!

Give me to drink mandragora.

CHAR.

Why, Madam?

CLEO. That I might sleep out this great gap of time

My Antony is away.

CHAR.

CLEO. O, 'tis treason!

You think of him too much.

CHAR. Madam, I trust, not so.
CLEO. Thou, Eunuch Mardian !
MAR.

What's your Highness' pleasure?

CLEO. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure

In aught an eunuch has: 'tis well for thee,

That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts

May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections? MAR. Yes, gracious Madam.

CLEO. Indeed!

MAR. Not in deed, Madam; for I can do nothing

But what indeed is honest to be done:

Yet have I fierce affections, and think

What Venus did with Mars.

IO

Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?

Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?

O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!

21

Do bravely, Horse! for wott'st thou whom thou mov'st?
The demi-Atlas of this Earth, the arm

Or murmuring Where's my serpent of old Nile ?

For so he calls me. Now I feed myself

With most delicious poison: Think on me,

That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,

And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar, 30
When thou wast here above the ground, I was

A morsel for a Monarch; and great Pompey
Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect, and die

With looking on his life.

ALEX.

Enter ALEXAS.

Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

CLEO. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!

Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath

With his tinct gilded thee.

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

ALEX. Last thing he did, dear Queen,

1 helmet.

40

ACT I

Sc. V