Pom. This is not an Alexandrian Feast.

Ant. It ripens towards it; ftrike the veffels, hoa. Here is to Cafar.

Caf. I could well forbear it;

It's monftrous labour when I wash my brain,
And it grows fouler.

Ant. Be a child o' th' time.

Caf. Poffefs it, I'll make anfwer; but I had rather Faft from all, four days, than drink fo much in one. Eno. Ha, my brave Emperor, fhall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals, and celebrate our Drink? · Pom. Let's ha't, good Soldier..

Ant. Come, let's all take hands;

"Till that the conquering wine hath steept our sense: In foft and delicate Lethe,

Eno. All take hands:

Make battery to our ears with the loud mufick,
The while I'll place you; then the Boy fhall fing::
(16) The Holding every man fhall bear, as loud
As his ftrong fides can volly.

[Mufick plays. Enobarbus places them hand in hand!'.

The SON G..

Come, thou Monarch of the Vine,
Plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyne,
In thy vats our cares be drown'd:
With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd!'

(16) The Holding ev'ry Màn shall beat as loud,

As bis ftrong fides can volly.] ́A Boy is defign'd hère too fing a Song, and all the Company are to join in the Burden, which the Poet ftyles, the Holding. But how were they to beat this with their Sides? If they were, at a certain Part of the Tune, either to have clap'd their Hands, or ftamp'd with their Feet, I should have understood this as Beating. I am per- fuaded, the Poet wrote:

The Holding ev'ry Man fhall bear, as loud

As his ftrong Sides can volly. ·

The Breast and Sides are immediately concern'd in straining to› fing as loud and forcibly as a Man can,

F.S

Cup

Cup us, 'till the world go

round;

Cup us, 'till the world go round.

Caf. What would you more? Pompey, good night.
Good Brother,

Let me request you off; our graver business
Frowns at this levity. Gentle Lords, let's part;
You fee, we have burnt our cheeks. Strong Enobarbus
Is weaker than the wind; and mine own tongue
Splits what it speaks; the wild disguise hath almoft
Antickt us all. What needs more words? good night.
Good Antony, your hand.

Pom. I'll try you on the fhoar.

Ant. And fhall, Sir; give's your hand.

Pom. Oh, Antony, you have my father's house. But what! we're friends; come down into the boat. Eno. Take heed you fall not, Menas.

Men. I'll not on fhoar.

No, to my cabin-thefe drums!

These trumpets! flutes! what!

Let Neptune hear, we bid a loud farewel

To thefe great fellows. Sound, and be hang'd, found

out.

[Sound a flourif, with drums..

Exc. Hoo, fays 'a! there's my cap.
Mer. Hoa!

ACT

SCENE, a Camp in a Part of Syria.

Enter Ventidius, as after Conqueft; the dead body of Pacorus borne before him, Silius, Roman Soldiers, and Attendants.

VENTIDIUS.

OW, darting Parthia, art thou ftruck; and

Now

now

Pleas'd Fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death

Make me revenger.

Bear the King's fon's body

Before our Hoft; thy Pacorus, Orodes,

Pays this for Marcus Craffus.

Sil. Noble Kentidius,

Whilft yet with Parthian blood thy fword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow: Spur through Media,
Mefopotamia, and the fhelters whither

The routed fly. So thy grand Captain Antony
Shall fet thee on triumphant chariots, and
Put garlands on thy head.

Ven. Oh Silius, "Silius,

I've done enough. A lower place, note well,

May make too great an act: for learn this, Silius,

Better to leave undone, than by our deed

Acquire too high a fame, when he, we ferve, 's away.
Cafar and Antony have ever won

More in their officer, than perfon.

Soffius,

One of my place in Syria, his Lieutenant,

For quick accumulation of renown,

Which he atchiev'd by th' minute, loft his Favour.
Who does i' th' wars more than his Captain can,
Becomes his Captain's Captain; and ambition,
(The foldier'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 | erish.

Sil. Thou haft, Ventidius, That, without the which
A foldier and his fword grants fcarce distinction:
Thou wilt write to Antony ?

Ven. I'll humbly fignifie 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 Horfe of Parthia
We've jaded out o' th' field.

Sil. Where is he now ?

Ven. He purpofeth to Athens; with what haste The weight we must convey with's will permit, We fhall appear before him. On there;.

along.

SCENE changes to Rome.

pafs

[Excunt.

Enter Agrippa at one door, Enobarbus at another. Agr. WHAT, are the brothers parted?

Ena. They have difpatch'd with Pompey, he is gone,

:

The other three are fealing. Octavia weeps,
Το part from Rome: Cafar is fad and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feaft, as Menas fays, is troubled,
With the green sickness..

Agr, 'Tis a noble Lepidus.

Eno. A very fine one; oh, how he loves Cæfar!
Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!
Exo. Cefar? why, he's the Jupiter of men.
Agr. What's Antony, the God of Jupiter?
Eno. Speak you of Cafar? oh! the non-pareil !
Agr. Oh Antony, oh thou Arabian bird!
Eng. Would you praife Cafar, fay,-

no further.

·Cafar; go.

Agr. Indeed, he plied them both with excellent

praises.

Eno. But he loves Cæfar beft, yet he loves Antony: Ho! hearts, tongues, figure, fcribes, bards, poets,

cannot

Think,.

Think, speak, caft, write, fing, number, ho!
His love to Antony. But as for Cafar,
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder-
Agr. Both he loves.

Eno. They are his fhards, and he their beetle; fo-
This is to horfe; adieu, noble Agrippa.

[Trumpets. Agr. Good fortune, worthy foldier, and farewel.

Enter Cæfar, Antony, Lepidus, and Octavia.

Ant. No farther, Sir.

Caf. You take from me a great part of myself::
Ufe me well in't. Sifter, prove such a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and my fartheft bond.
Shall pass on thy approof. Moft noble Antony,
Let not the piece of virtue, which is set (17)
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 cherisht.

Ant. Make me not offended.

In your distrust.

Caf. I've faid.

Ant. You shall not find,

Though you be therein curious, the leaft caufe
For what you feem to fear; fo the Gods keep you,...
And make the hearts of Romans ferve your ends!

(17) Let not the Piece of Virtue, which is fet

There is no Confonance of Metaphor preferv'd in the Clofe of this Sentence; Love is here prefented under the Image of a Fabrick; and Cement, builded, and the Ram to batter, have all an Agreement with this Image: but what Analogy is there to This, in the Word Fortune? Or what Idea can the Fortune of a Building furnish ? I corrected fome Years ago, in Print, by Conjecture, Fortress: and, to my Satisfaction, fo foon as I was Master of the first Folio Edition, upon confulting it, I found, I had ftruck out the true Reading.

Wes