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 puddle3

Which beasts would cough at: Thy palate then did deign
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
Yea, like the 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 honour, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep. It is pity of him.

Caes. Let his shames quickly

Drive hime 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.

Lep. To-morrow, Cæsar,

I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able,
To 'front this present time.

Cas. Till which encounter,

It is my business too.

Farewell.

Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall know mean

time

Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,

To let me be partaker.

Cas. Doubt not, sir

I knew it for my bond.*

[Exeunt.

[3] There is frequently observable on the surface of stagnant pools that have remained long undisturbed, a reddish gold coloured slime; to this appearance the poet here refers.

HENLEY.

[4] That is, to be my bounden duty.

MASON.

Give me to drink mandragora.9

Char. Why, madam ?

Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap of time,

My Antony is away.

Char. You think of him

Too much.

Cleo. O, treason!

Char. Madam, I trust, not so.

Cleo. Thou, eunuch, Mardian!

Mar. 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 unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts

May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?
Mar. Yes, gracious madam.

Cleo. Indeed?

Mar. Not indeed, 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.

Cleo. O Charmian,

Where think'st thou 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.

Enter ALEXAS.

Alex. Sovereign of Egypt, hail !

[9] Mandragora---a plant of which the infusion was supposed to procure sleeps Shakespeare mentions it in Othello:

"Not poppy, nor mandragora,

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,

Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep--."

A burgonet---is a kind of helmet

2 In allusion to Cæsar's baldness

STEEVENS.
HENLEY.

JOHNSON.

Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With his tinct gilded thee.'-

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

He kiss'd, the last of many doubled kisses,—
This orient pearl ;-His speech sticks in my heart.
Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
Alex. 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 a termagant steed,

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

Cleo. 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 seem'd 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?

Cleo. 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?

Char. O that brave Cæsar!

Cleo. Be chok'd with such another emphasi!

Say, the brave Antony.

Char. The valiant Cæsar !

Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,

If thou with Cæsar paragon again

[3] Alluding to the philosopher's stone, which, by its touch, converts base metal into gold. The alchemists call the matter, whatever it be, by which they perform ansmutation, a medicine.

JOHNSON.

My man of men.

Char. By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you.

Cleo. My sallad days;

When I was green in judgment :-Cold in blood,
To say, as I said then!-But, come, away:
Get me ink and paper: he shall have every day
A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt.3

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Messina. A Room in POMPEY's House. Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS.

Pom. Ir the great gods be just, they shall assist The deeds of justest men.

Mene. Know, worthy Pompey,

That what they do delay, they not deny.

Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays

The thing we sue for.*

Mene. We, ignorant of ourselves,

Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good: so find we profit,

By losing of our prayers.

Pom. I shall do well :

The people love me, and the sea is mine;

My power's a crescent, and my auguring hope
Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony
In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make

No wars without doors: Cæsar gets money, where
He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,

Of both is flatter'd ; but he neither loves,

Nor either cares for him.

Men. Cæsar and Lepidus are in the field;

A mighty strength they carry.

Pom. Where have you this? 'tis false.

Men. From Silvius, sir.

Pom. He dreams; I know, they are in Rome together,

[3] By sending out messengers.

JOHNSON.

14 The meaning is, While we are praying, the thing for which we pray is losing its value.

JOHNSON.

[5] The poet's allusion is to the moon; and Pompey would say, he is yet but a hall noon, or crescent; but his hopes tell him, that crescent will come to a full orb.

THEOBALD.

Looking for Antony: But all charms of love
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip!"

Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;

That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,
Even till a Lethe'd dulness.-How now, Varrius ?
Enter VARRIUS.

Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver :
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
Expected; since he went from Egypt, 'tis
A space for further travel.

Pom. I could have given less matter

A better ear.-Menas, I did not think,

This amorous surfeiter would have don'd his helm
For such a petty war: his soldiership

Is twice the other twain: But let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow' pluck
The ne'er lust wearied Antony.

Men. I cannot hope,

Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together:
His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Cæsar;
His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,
Not mov'd by Antony.

Pom. I know not, Menas,

How lesser enmities may give way to greater.
Were't not that we stand up against them all,
"Twere pregnant they should square between them-
selves;

For they have entertained cause enough
To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
May cement their divisions, and bind up

The petty difference, we yet not know.

[6] In the old edition it is, thy wand lip! Perhaps, for fond lip, or warm lip, says Dr. Johnson. Yet this expression of Pompey's, perhaps, implies a wish only, that every charm of love may confer additional softness on the lip of Cleopatra: i. e that her beauty may improve to the ruin of her lover: or, as Mr. Ritson expresses the same idea, that "her lip, which was become pale and dry with age, may recover the colour and softness of her sallad days." The epithet wan might have been added, ony to show the speaker's private contempt of it. It may be remarked that the lips of Africans and Asiatics are paler than those of European nations. STEEVENS. [7] Julius Cæsar had married her to young Ptolemy, who was afterwards drowned STEEVENS. 18] Square--that is, quarrel

STEEVENS.