Than was his loss, to course your flying flags,

And leave his navy gazing.

CLEO.

Pr'ythee, peace!

ACT III
Sc. XIII

Enter ANTONY with EUPHRONIUS, the Ambassador.

ANT. Is that his answer?

EUPH. Ay, my Lord.

ANT. The Queen shall, then, have courtesy, so she

ANT. To him again: tell him he wears the rose

20

Of youth upon him; from which the world should note

Something particular: his coin, ships, legions,

May be a coward's; whose ministers would prevail

Under the service of a child as soon

As i' the command of Cæsar: I dare him therefore

To lay his gay comparisons apart,

And answer me declin'd,1 sword against sword,
Ourselves alone. I'll write it; follow me.

30

[Exeunt ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS.
ENO. [aside.] Yes, like enough, high-battled Cæsar will
Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to the show,
Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them,
To suffer all alike; that2 he should dream,
Knowing all measures, the full Cæsar will

Answer his emptiness. Cæsar, thou hast subdued
His judgment too!

Enter an Attendant.

ATT.

A messenger from Cæsar.

CLEO. What, no more ceremony? See, my women!

ACT III
Sc. XIII

Against the blown rose may they stop their nose
That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, Sir.

40

[Exit Attendant.
ENO. [aside.] Mine honesty and I begin to square.1
The loyalty well held to fools does make
Our faith mere folly; yet he that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fall'n Lord

Does conquer him that did his master conquer,
And earns a place i' the story.

Enter THYREUS.

CLEO.

Cæsar's will?

THYR. Hear it apart.

CLEO. None but friends: say boldly.

THYR. So, haply, are they friends to Antony.
ENO. He needs as many, Sir, as Cæsar has,

Or needs not us. If Cæsar please, our master
Will leap to be his friend: for us, you know
Whose he is we are, and that is Cæsar's.
THYR.

So.

Thus, then, thou most renown'd: Cæsar entreats,
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st,
Further than he is Cæsar.

CLEO.

Go on right-royal!

THYR. He knows that you embrace not Antony

As you did love, but as you fear'd him.
CLEO.

O!

THYR. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
Does pity, as constrained blemishes,

What is most right: mine honour was not yielded,
But conquer'd merely.

I will ask Antony. Sir, Sir, thou art so leaky,

That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for

Thy dearest quit thee.

THYR.

What

Shall I say to Cæsar you require of him? for he partly begs

To be desir'd to give. It much would please him,

1 fall out.

50

60

[exit.

Say to great Cæsar this: In disputation

I kiss his conquering hand; tell him, I am prompt
To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel;

Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear
The doom of Egypt.

THYR.

Wisdom and Fortune combating together,
If that the former dare but what it can,

ACT III

70 Sc. XIII

"Tis your noblest course.

80

Give me grace to lay

No chance may shake it.

My duty on your hand.

CLEO.

Your Cæsar's father oft,

When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in,
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,

ANT. Approach, there! Ah, you Kite! Now, Gods and

Devils!

Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried Ho!
Like boys unto a muss,1 Kings would start forth,
And cry Your will? Have you no ears? I am
Antony yet.

Enter Attendants.

Take hence this Jack, and whip him. ENO. [aside.] 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp Than with an old one dying.

90

1 scramble.

ACT III
Sc. XIII

ANT.

Moon and Stars!got
Whip him. Were 't twenty of the greatest tributaries
That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them
So saucy with the hand of she here--what's her name,
Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, Fellows,
Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy: take him hence.
THYR. Mark Antony—

ANT.

Tug him away; being whipp'd,

Bring him again: this Jack of Cæsar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.

[Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS.

You were half blasted ere I knew you. Ha!
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on feeders ?1
CLEO.

Good my Lord

ANT. You have been a boggler ever:

But when we in our viciousness grow hard

(O misery on 't!) the wise Gods seel our eyes;

In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
Adore our errors; laugh at 's, while we strut

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.

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

1 dependants, almsmen.

120

130

A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him.

Re-enter Attendants with THYREUS.

ACT III
Sc. XIII

Is he whipp'd?

FIRST ATT. Soundly, my Lord.

ANT.

Cried he? and begg'd he 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: henceforth
The white hand of a lady fever thee,

Shake thou to look on't. Get thee back to Cæsar, 140
Tell him thy entertainment: look thou say

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:
Hence with thy stripes, be gone!

CLEO. Have you done yet?

ANT.

150

[Exit THYREUS.

Alack, our terrene Moon

ANT. To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes

With one that ties his points?

CLEO.

ANT. Cold-hearted toward me!

CLEO.

Not know me yet?

Ah, Dear, if I be so

160

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,1 so

1 melts.

C