I cannot hate thee worfer than I do,

If you again fay yes.

Mef. He's married, Madam.

Cleo. The Gods confound thee, doft thou hold there still? Mef. Should I lie, Madam?

Cleo. Oh, I would thou didft;

So half my Egypt were fubmerg'd, and made
A ciftern for fcal'd fnakes! Go get thee hence,
Hadit thou Narciffus in thy face, to me

Thou wouldst appear moft ugly: he is married?
Mef. I crave your Highnefs' pardon.

Cleo. He is married?

Mef. Take no offence, for I would not offend you;
To punish me for what you make me do,
Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia.

Cleo. Oh, that his fault fhould make a knave of thee,
That'fay'ft but what thou'rt fure of! Get thee hence,
The merchandifes thou haft brought from Rome
Are all too dear for me:

Lye they upon thy hand, and be undone by 'em!

Char. Good your Highnefs, patience.

[Exit Mef.

Cleo. In praifing Antony, I have difprais'd Cæfar.
Char. Many times, Madam.

Cleo. I am paid for it now: lead me from hence,
I faint; oh Iras, Charmiantis no matter.-
Go to the fellow, good Alexas, bid him
Report the feature of Ottavia, her years,

Her inclination, let him not leave out

The colour of her hair. Bring me word quickly,
Let him for ever go let him not, Charmian,
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
Th' other way he's a Mars.Bid you Alexas
Bring word, how tall the is: pity me, Charmian,
But speak not to me. Lead me to my chamber. [Exeunt.

6 art not

SCENE

The Coaft of Italy near Misenum.

Enter Pompey and Menas at one door with drum and trum pet: At another Cæfar, Lepidus, Antony, Ænobarbus, Mecænas, Agrippa, with Soldiers marching.

Pom. Your hoftages I have, fo have you mine;
And we fhall talk before we fight.

Cef. Most meet

That firft we come to words, and therefore have we
Our written purposes before us fent,

Which if thou haft confider'd, let us know

If 'twill tie up thy difcontented fword,

And carry back to Sicily much tall youth,
That else must perish here.

Pom. To you all three,

The fenators alone of this great world,
Chief factors for the Gods,

I do not know,
Wherefore my father fhould revengers want,
Having a fon and friends; fince Julius Cæfar,
Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,
There faw you labouring for him. What was it
That mov'd pale Caffius to confpire? and what
Made the all-honour'd, honest Roman Brutus,
With the arm'd reft, courters of beauteous freedom,
To drench the Capitol, but that they would
Have one man but a man? and that is it
Hath made me rig my navy: at whose burthen
The anger'd ocean foams, with which I meant
To fcourge the ingratitude that defpightful Rome
Caft on my noble father.

Caf. Take your time.

Ant. Thou canft not fear us, Pompey, with thy fails, We'll fpeak with thee at fea. At land thou know'ft

Ho

How much we do o'er-count thee.

Pom. At land indeed

Thou doft o'er-count me of my father's houfe.
But fince the cuckow builds not for himself,
Remain in't as thou may'st.

Lep. Be pleas'd to tell us,

(For this is from the prefent) how you take The 7'offer we have fent you

Caf. There's the point.

Ant. Which do not be intreated to, but weigh

What it is worth embrac❜d.

Caf. And what may follow

To try a larger fortune.

Pom. You've made me offer
Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must

Rid all the fea of pirates; then to fend
Measures of wheat to Rome: this 'greed upon,
To part with unhackt edges, and bear back
Our targe undinted.

Omnes. That's our offer.

Pom. Know then

I came before you here, a man prepar'd
To take this offer. But Mark Antony

/Puts me to fome impatience: though I lofe
The praise of it by telling; you must know
When Cefar and your brother were at blows,
Your mother came to Sicily, and did find
Her welcome friendly,

Ant. I have heard it, Pompey,

And am well studied for a liberal thanks,
Which I do owe you.

Pom. Let me have your hand:

I did not think, Sir, to have met you here;

Ant. The beds i'th Eaft are foft, and thanks to you, That call'd me timelier than my purpofe hither:

For I've gain'd by it.

Caf. Since I faw you laft,

7 offers

8 Put

There

There is a change upon you.

Pom. Well I know not

What counts hard fortune cafts upon my face,
But in my bofom fhe fhall never come,
To make my heart a vaffal.

Lep. Well met here!

Pom. I hope fo, Lepidus, thus we are agreed t I crave our compofition may be written

And feal'd between us.

Caf. That's the next to do.

Pom. We'll feaft each other ere we part, and let's Draw lots who fhall begin.

Ant. That will I, Pompey.

Pom. No, Antony, take the lot:

But first or laft, your fine Egyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. I've heard that Julius Cæfar
Grew fat with feafting there.

Ant. You have heard much.

Pom. I have fair meaning, Sir.
Ant. And fair words to it.
Pom. Then fo much have I heard.
And I have heard Apollodorus carried-
Eno. No more of that: he did fo.
Pom. What, I pray you?

Eno. A certain Queen to Cæfar in a mattress.
Pom. I know thee now, how far'ft thou, foldier?

[To Ænob. Eno. Well, and well am like to do, for I perceive Four feafts are toward...

Pom. Let me shake thy hand,

I never hated thee: I have feen thee fight,

When I have envied thy behaviour.

Eno. Sir,

I never lov'd you much, but I ha' prais'd ye,

When you have well deferv'd ten times as much,

As I have faid you did.

Pom. Enjoy thy plainnefs,

9 them.

It

Pom. Come. [Exeunt.

Manent Enob. and Menas.

Men. Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have made this

treaty.

You and I have known, Sir.

Eno. At fea, I think.

Men. We have, Sir.

Eno. You have done well by water.

Men. And you by land.

[To Ænobarbus.

Eno. I will praife any man that will praife me, though it cannot be denied what I have done by land.

Men. Nor what I have done by water.

Eno. Yes, fomething you can deny for your own fafety: you have been a great thief by fea.

Men. And you by land.

Eno. There I deny my land-fervice; but give me your hand, Menas, if our eyes had authority, here they might take two thieves kiffing.

Men. All mens faces are true, whatsoe'er their hands are. Eno. But there is ne'er a fair woman, has a true face. Men. No flander, they steal hearts.

Eno. We came hither to fight with you.

Men. For my part, I am forry it is turn'd to a drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune. Eno. If he do, fure he cannot weep't back again. Men. You've faid, Sir; we look'd not for Mark Antony here; pray you, is he married to Cleopatra? Eno. Cafar's fifter is call'd Octavia.

Men. True, Sir, fhe was the wife of Caius Marcellus: Eno. But now fhe is the wife of Marcus Antonius.

Men. Pray ye, Sir?

Eno. 'Tis true.

Men. Then is Cafar and he for ever knit together.

Eno. If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would not prophefie fo.

Men.