Read not my blemishes in the world's report:
I have not kept my square3, but that to come

Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear lady.—

Good night, sir1.

Cæs. Good night.

[Exeunt CESAR and OCTAVIA.

Enter a Soothsayer3.,

Ant. Now, sirrah: you do wish yourself in Egypt? Sooth. Would I had never come from thence, nor you thither!

Ant. If you can, your reason?

Sooth. I see it in my motion, have it not in my tongue: but yet yet hie you to Egypt again.

Ant. Say to me,

Cæsar's, or mine?

Sooth. Cæsar's.

whose fortunes shall rise higher,

Therefore, O Antony! stay not by his side:

Thy dæmon, that thy spirit which keeps thee, is
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,

Where Cæsar's is not; but near him thy angel
Becomes a fear, as being o'erpower'd: therefore,
Make space enough between you.

Ant.

Speak this no more.

Sooth. To none but thee; no more, but when to

thee.

If thou dost play with him at any game,

Thou art sure to lose; and, of that natural luck,

He beats thee 'gainst the odds: thy lustre thickens,
When he shines by. I say again, thy spirit

3 I have not kept my SQUARE ;] The last part of the sentence explains the first, if explanation be needed. Respecting " square," or squire, see Vol. ii. p. 368; Vol. iii. p. 505; and Vol. iv. p. 252.

* Good night, sir.] In the folio, 1632, these words are assigned to Octavia ; but as they may very well have been a repetition by Antony, we adhere to the distribution of the folio, 1623.

5 Enter a Soothsayer.] Every old copy makes the Soothsayer enter here: every modern copy introduces him, without any propriety, with Cæsar, Antony, and Octavia, at the opening of the scene.

Is all afraid to govern thee near him,

But, he away, 'tis noble.

Ant.

Get thee gone:

Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him.—

[Exit Soothsayer.

He shall to Parthia.-Be it art, or hap,
He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him;
And in our sports my better cunning faints
Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds:
His cocks do win the battle still of mine,
When it is all to nought; and his quails ever
Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt:
And though I make this marriage for my peace,

Enter VENTIDIUS.

I' the east my pleasure lies.-O! come, Ventidius,
You must to Parthia: your commission's ready;
Follow me, and receive it.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Same. A Street.

Enter LEPIDUS, MECENAS, and AGRIPPA.

Lep. Trouble yourselves no farther: pray you, hasten Your generals after.

Agr.

Sir, Mark Antony

Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.

Lep. Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress,

Which will become you both, farewell.

Mec.

As I conceive the journey, be at Mount

6

We shall,

at MOUNT] i. e. Mount Misenum. "Mount" is printed with a capital letter in the folio, 1623: the folio, 1632, has it “at the Mount.”

Before you, Lepidus.

Lep.

Your way is shorter;

My purposes do draw me much about:

You'll win two days upon me.

Mec. Agr.
Lep. Farewell.

Sir, good success!

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS. Cleo. Give me some music; music, moody food Of us that trade in love.

Attend.

The music, ho!

Enter MARDIAN.

Cleo. Let it alone; let 's to billiards: come, Charmian.

Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian.
Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd,

As with a woman.-Come, you'll play with me, sir?
Mar. As well as I can, madam.

Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though 't come

too short,

The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now.

Give me mine angle,—we'll to the river: there,

My music playing far off, I will betray

Tawny-finn'd' fishes; my bended hook shall pierce
Their slimy jaws, and as I draw them up,
I'll think them every one an Antony,
And say, Ah, ha! you're caught.

7 Tawney-FINN'D-] Theobald altered Tawney-fine, of all the folios, into Tawney-finn'd," aud the change seems required.

Char.

"Twas merry, when You wager'd on your angling; when your diver Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he

With fervency drew up.

Cleo.

That time,-O times!-
I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
I laugh'd him into patience: and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
Then, put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
I wore his sword Philippian.-

Enter a Messenger.

Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,

That long time have been barren.

Mess.

Cleo. Antony's dead?—

O! from Italy?—

Madam, madam,

If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress:

But well and free,

If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here

My bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that kings
Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

Mess. First, madam, he is well.
Cleo.

But, sirrah, mark, we use

Why, there's more gold.

To say, the dead are well: bring it to that,
The gold I give thee will I melt, and pour

Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Mess. Good madam, hear me.

Cleo.

Well, go to, I will;

But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony

Be free, and healthful,-so tart a favour

To trumpet such good tidings! if not well,

Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes, Not like a formal man.

Mess.

Will't please you hear me?

Cleo. I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak'st:

Yet, if thou say, Antony lives, 'tis well;
Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him,
I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail

Rich pearls upon

thee.

Mess.

Madam, he's well.

Cleo.

Well said.

Mess. And friends with Cæsar.

Cleo.

Thou'rt an honest man.

Mess. Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever.
Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me.

Mess.

But yet, madam,—
Cleo. I do not like "but yet," it does allay
The good precedence; fie upon "but yet!"
"But yet" is as a gaoler to bring forth

Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,

The good and bad together. He's friends with Cæsar;
In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free.
Mess. Free, madam? no; I made no such report:
He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo.

Mess. For the best turn i' the bed.

Cleo.

For what good turn?

I am pale, Charmian.

Mess. Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon thee!

Mess. Good madam, patience.

Cleo.

[Strikes him down.

What say you?-Hence,

[Strikes him again.

Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes

Like balls before me: I'll unhair thy head.

[She hales him up and down.

Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in lingering pickle.

Mess.

Gracious madam,

I, that do bring the news, made not the match.
Cleo. Say, 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,

1