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Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Like perfect honor.

Ant. You'll heat my blood; no more. Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. Ant. Now, by my sword,Cleo. And target,-Still he mends; But this is not the best. Look, pr'ythee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become

The carriage of his chafe.

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 loved, 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.


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


'Tis sweating labor,
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 honor calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword
Sit laurelled victory! and smooth success

Be strewed before your feet!


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

Let us go. Come;


SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's House.

Enter OCTAVIUS CESAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants.

Cæs. 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 give audience, or

Vouchsafed to think he had partners. You shall find there A man who is the abstract of all faults

That all men follow.

I must not think there are
Evils enough to darken all his goodness.
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven;
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchased; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

Cæs. 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
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 filled
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 ours,-'tis to be chid
As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgmen'.

Enter a Messenger.


Here's more news.

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 beloved of those That only have feared Cæsar. To the ports. The discontents repair, and men's reports Give him much wronged.


I should have known no less.

It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he, which is, was wished until he were;
And the ebbed man, ne'er loved til ne'er worth love,
Comes deared, by being lacked. This common body,
Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.
VOL. IV.-2

Mess. Cæsar, I bring thee word, Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them; which they ear 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 wassals. 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
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 a 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 honor, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lanked not.


'Tis pity of him.

Cæs. Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain
Did show ourselves i' the field; and, to that end,
Assemble we immediate council. Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.


To-morrow, Cæsar, I shall be furnished to inform you rightly Both what by sea and land I can be able, To 'front this present time.

Till which encounter,

What you shall know mean time beseech you, sir,

Doubt not, sir;


It is my business too.

Lep. Farewell, my lord.
Of stirs abroad, I shall
To let me be partaker.
I knew it for my bond.


SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN.

Cleo. Charmian,—

Char. Madam.

Cleo. Ha, ha!

Give me to drink mandragora.


Why, madam?
Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap of time,
My Antony is away.


You think of him

Too much.

O, 'tis treason!


Madam, I trust not so.

Cleo. Thou, eunuch! Mardian!


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 unseminared, 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.


O Charmian,

Where think'st 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!

Do bravely, horse! For wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet of men.-He's speaking now,
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,
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 aspéct, and die
With looking on his life.


Sovereign of Egypt, hail!
Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With its tinct gilded thee.-

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,

He kissed the last of many doubled kisses-
This orient pearl.-His speech sticks in my heart.
Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.

Good friend, quoth he,
Say, The firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the East,
Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an arrogant steed,

Who neighed so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb by him.


What, was he sad, or merry? Alex. Like to the time o' the year, between the extremes Of hot and cold; he was nor sad, nor merry.

Cleo. O well-divided disposition! - Note him,

Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him;
He was not sad; for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his. He was not merry;
Which seemed to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy: but between both;

O heavenly mingle!-Be'st thou sad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes;

So does it no man else.-Met'st thou my posts?
Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers.
Why do you send so thick?

Who's born that day
When I forget to send to Antony,
Shall die a beggar.-Ink and paper, Charmian.—
Welcome, my good Alexas.-Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Cæsar so?

O, that brave Cæsar!
Cleo. Be choked with such another emphasis !
Say, the brave Antony.


The valiant Cæsar!
Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Cæsar paragon again
My man of men.

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