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

2

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.

[Aside to AGRIPPA.

He has a cloud in's face.

Eno. He were the worse for that, were he a horse; So is he, being a man.

Agr.

Why, Enobarbus ?

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,3 he wail'd:

Believe it, till I weep too.

Cæs.

No, sweet Octavia,

You shall hear from me still; the time shall not

Come, sir, come;

Out-go my thinking on you.

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

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

Alex.

Enter a Messenger.

Good majesty,

Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you,

But when you are well pleas'd.

Cleo.

That Herod's head

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 dwarfish!

What majesty is in her gait? Remember,

If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.

Mess.

She creeps;

Her motion and her station 4 are as one:

She shows a body rather than a life;

A statue, than a breather.

I do perceiv't:-There's nothing in her yet:

The fellow has good judgment.

Char.

Excellent.

Madam,

Cleo. Guess at her years, I pr'ythee.

Mess.

4 Standing.

She was a widow.

Cleo.

Widow?-Charmian, hark.

Mess. And I do think, she's thirty.

Cleo. Bear'st thou her face in mind? is it long, or

round?

Mess. Round even to faultiness.

Cleo.

For the most part too,

They are foolish that are so.-Her hair, what colour? Mess. Brown, madam: And her forehead is as low As she would wish it.

Cleo.
There is gold for thee.
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill:-
I will employ thee back again; I find thee
Most fit for business: Go, make thee ready;
Our letters are prepar'd.

Char.

[Exit Messenger.

A proper man.

Cleo. Indeed, he is so: I repent me much,

That so I harry'd him. Why, methinks, by him,

This creature's no such thing.

Char.

O, nothing, madam.

Cleo. The man hath seen some majesty, and should

know.

Char. Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend,

And serving you so long!

Cleo. I have one thing more to ask him yet, good
Charmian :-

But tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me
Where I will write: All may be well enough.
Char. I warrant you, madam.

s Pulled, lugged.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Athens. A Room in Antony's House.

Enter ANTONY and OCTAVIA.

Ant. Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that,-
That were excusable, that, and thousands more
Of semblable import,—but he hath wag'd
New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it
To publick ear:

Spoke scantly of me: when perforce he could not7
But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly
He vented them; most narrow measure lent me :
When the best hint was given him, he not took't,
Or did it from his teeth.9

Oct.

O my good lord, Believe not all; or, if you must believe, Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady,

I

If this division chance, ne'er stood between,
Praying for both parts:

And the good gods will mock me presently,
When I shall pray, 0, bless my lord and husband!
Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud,

O, bless my brother! Husband win, win brother,
Prays, and destroys the prayer; nọ midway
'Twixt these extremes at all.

Let

Ant.

Gentle Octavia,

your best love draw to that point, which seeks Best to preserve it: If I lose mine honour,

6 Similar tendency.

7 Could not help. 9 Indistinct, through his teeth.

8 Published.

1 Resent.